#do i have many inbox messages to answer? yes...

[inthelittlewood]

Questions about Eyes And Ears AU

I had somebody ask for a brief interview regarding my storytelling for their university project and thought I'd lend a hand.

I thought those of you that follow the story might like the insight too, so here ya go:

When you first introduced the Listeners in Evo SMP, did you have a broader narrative or concept in mind, or were they more of an atmospheric element at that point?

The honest answer is that I didn't want to write too much about somebody else's character(s), that being Grian's Watchers. If I could write the conflict from the side of the Listeners then we could continue the narrative with a pre-designed opposing force but have them be relatively mute for the most part. Partly to build anticipation of when they might act or retaliate but it also worked for behind the scenes purposes too. If the series hadn't slowed/stopped as suddenly as it did, I definitely would have poked Grian to pick his brain about what story elements fit his original imagining of the Watchers. So it was mostly narrative reasoning but they also served a mechanical behind the scenes purpose of transporting us to a new area which was necessary due to bugs we'd encountered with world gen etc.

What inspired you to flesh out the Eyes and Ears AU more in recent years? Was that mostly a personal creative decision, or was it influenced by fan interest?

Honestly I hadn't premeditated too much their reintroduction into anything that I was working on. Sure I'd seen a little chattering here and there about the Watchers but I honestly just wanted to write an individual story beat (albeit a tropey one) of c!Martyn snapping and turning on Ren but that never came to fruition due to Scar taking us out. The plan was always to backstab Ren then say a cool line like "Red Winter is over, Red Spring has begun" or something else punny. Seeing the fevered reaction of the audience though gave me some confidence that I could try my hand at some layered or entirely post-production storytelling, so heading into Last Life I was all guns blazing.

The Eyes and Ears AU is quite open-ended — do you intentionally approach it with the idea of leaving narrative space for fan interpretation?

It really is right? Yes, it's a very mindful decision to leave it open-ended but not so much for the audience's benefit or interpretations, but to give myself creative freedom to take the story wherever I'd like to. Committing to too many power scale, multiverse or narrative shackles early can really strangle stories I've noticed (from reading comics and manga) meaning back pedalling or aggressive retcons are required to explore certain paths, which is rarely a good experience for the reader. I do enjoy their versatility and capability to be applied to any Minecraft or adjacent story too. Some might call it too broad, I call it malleable.

How do you feel about fans expanding the lore through headcanons and theories? Have any fan interpretations stood out or surprised you?

I think it's brilliant! People inundate my inbox on Tumblr seeking permission to write stories or create characters / AUs but I've literally no authority on that. I suppose it might be a different conversation if they were profiting off of those works, but 99% of people simply want to write for fun which I highly encourage!! I'll be honest that I haven't read a great deal of AUs or headcanons, my exposure to them is mostly via chat messages during lore talk streams or questions that come through regarding the Eyes And Ears AU. As a general rule I try to avoid reading too much of other people's works on the topic because I worry I'll accidentally regurgitate it in some way then stumble into plagiarism, you know? It's why I focus more on digesting stories outside the fandom whether it's manga, Sanderson books, reading old Japanese folk tales and the like. I can source inspiration from those on how to weave narrative and execute plot twists without having to glance in my front yard.

Has fan content (art, theories, animatics, etc.) ever influenced how you think about or approach the AU?

Oh for sure they have. It's literally why after every season we'll do a sit down stream and talk about the lore in detail. Figure out the puzzle and potential trip wires of plot points from the episodes and how we can neatly pack them into the pre-existing story. A lot of people wouldn't do that as they'd be precious about their work and believe their opinion is th only correct one, but I looooove soundboarding with the audience on it. I also take that mindset in game and sometimes think about the scenery of an impactful moment whenever I'm able to control / design it. I'll have little quips or quotes cooked in my mind for how I'd ideally deliver a blow or plot twist, buuuuut given the nature of the Life series you very rarely get to execute things how you'd like haha! I definitely wouldn't have done as many of the poems had their not been such a positive reaction to those. I often see individual lines or entire passages make their way into art pieces as typography or highlighted in animatics which is really gratifying. It's why I also put such an emphasis and priority on audio production in my editing. If I can craft something that feels atmospheric, driving and punctuating with music, staggering vocals or sound effects then the auditory portion is already done, they can focus solely on the visual aspect of things. I try and be as cinematic / TV like as my skillset allows for that reason.

You’ve mentioned trying not to fully canonise the AU, but still referencing it consistently — how do you balance telling your own story effectively, while trying not to involve other creators, particularly on the Life Series, when a lot of your time is spent in a group?

The easiest way to do this, is to not do it. For the most part the only storytelling done with the AU is done in post-production. I never name drop the Watchers or Listeners in world (believe me, I was as surprised as all of you when I saw that Secret Keeper statue in Secret Life!!) and in recent seasons they haven't even reared their head as an influence whatsoever. They're on holiday, they deserve it. But when they do whisper in my ear, they're motivated decisions that I would likely make as a player/character anyway because the win objective is always the thing I'm striving towards. I can just pepper angst around it to make things seem more manipulated rather than selfish ha. I think that's why the open ended nature of the Watchers has served me well because as much as they have a singular motive which is to feed on negative emotions, that can be achieved in so many ways ranging from bloodlust to deception, heartbreak to panic. It's versatile for storytelling. It can be in your face, or a slow burn.

What do the Watchers and Listeners represent to you, symbolically or narratively? Do they serve a specific function in the stories you tell?

The Watchers used to represent the audience when Grian first introduced them, but after departing EVO I've definitely breathed more of an egotistical and sinister air into them. They're very much a unique entity / faction now, they in some ways represent gluttony, selfishness and neglect in achieving their goals. The Listeners on the other hand, are a lot of the opposite traits, but I'm still wanting to explore how being the hard end of most conflicts can be dangerous. I want to explore that at some point, whether it be with infighting or failures. They shouldn't be seen as simply bad/good, they're just, different. It shouldn't be too hard navigating that nuance but I want it to reflect elements and motives that we find in our own lives.

[lowryuk]

Yours to Break.

Pairing: Ex-boyfriend!Eren x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.3K

Summary: No matter how hard you try to stay away from Eren, he always finds a way back to you—and you always let him.

A/N: hihihiya! I hope you enjoy and if you do, please consider to like, reblog and follow :D. I’m always open to give additional headcannons on my fics, so don’t be afraid to fill up my inbox with questions or comments—I’d love to answer them! The ex!bf eren won the poll so here it is. Look forward to the jock!Eren x reader that will come out some time next week (aiming for Tuesday night). Also, thank you for all the love on “What Was Mine.” I’m super glad so many of you enjoyed it :)

Side note (read after you finish fic to avoid spoilers): I know Eren’s pretty toxic in this one (I genuinely didn’t mean to do that lol) but I promise you he gets better over time and him and reader work it out.

(Warnings are below undercut)

Warning(s): Toxic!Eren (sorry), borderline abusive relationship (Eren’s very manipulative), Violent!Eren (but not towards reader), fight scene, possessiveness, angst, jealousy from both sides, insecurity, unprotected sex (wrap your willyyy), p in v, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking/biting, dirty talk from Eren, hair pulling, cum eating, fingering, finger sucking

Taglist❣️: @erenjaegerwifee, @m0chamami

Eren Yeager was your first love.

It started in high school, in a cramped math classroom where he took the seat beside you and, with an easy confidence, offered to help when he noticed you struggling. Numbers had always come naturally to him, while you found comfort in words. So when you walked into English class and spotted him flipping aimlessly through the pages of a novel he clearly had no interest in, it only made sense that he patted the seat beside him, smirking as if to say, your turn to return the favor.

He was charming in a way that felt easy, the kind of person who could make anyone laugh with little effort, who was liked by everyone without even trying. And he knew it. He took advantage of the way you got flustered when he leaned in too close, how your gaze would drop to your desk anytime he said something bold, teasing you just enough to make your stomach tighten in that unfamiliar, fluttering way.

At some point, he asked for your number. It started off as innocent as it could be—just conversations about homework and upcoming assignments, exchanging notes before tests. But before long, the texts became less about school and more about each other. Late-night messages filled with inside jokes, subtle flirting that you’d overanalyze before falling asleep.

Then, one day, he asked if you wanted to hang out after school. You said yes, and sitting in his car, parked in a quiet lot, he turned to you and asked you out on your first real date. From that moment on, Eren was yours, and you were his.

For three years, life was blissful.

Then, in your first year of university, something shifted. Eren changed.

The boy who had once been so easygoing, so secure, had suddenly become possessive. At first, it was subtle—an offhand remark about how a guy in your class seemed too friendly, a joke about how you were too nice for your own good. But soon, it escalated. If you had a male partner for a group project, Eren had to be present, insisting it was only to “keep an eye on things.” The first time he said that, you could only stare at him, stunned into silence.

He had never been this way before. He had never cared if you had male friends, never acted as if he didn’t trust you.

"Why would you even think that?" you had asked him, incredulous, because you had done nothing—absolutely nothing—to warrant the suspicion lacing his voice. But he brushed it off, called it a joke, even though there was nothing funny about the way he was suddenly scrutinizing your every move.

You should have left then. You should have realized that love wasn’t supposed to feel like walking on eggshells, wasn’t supposed to be a constant battle to prove your loyalty to someone who once trusted you implicitly. But the thought of leaving him was suffocating. You didn’t know how to exist in a world where he wasn’t yours, where you weren’t his. So, you bit your tongue every time he accused you of things you hadn’t done. You let it slide when he checked your phone, when he questioned why a guy had liked your photo, when he made you feel like you had to explain yourself for things that never needed an explanation before.

And you endured it all—until the night of your best friend’s birthday.

She had gone all out, booking a VIP section at one of the best clubs in the city, followed by a stay at a high-end hotel where everyone would unwind, sober up, and just enjoy each other’s company. The moment you told Eren about it, he made his stance clear—he didn’t want you to go. You weren’t surprised. You had skipped out on nearly every get-together in the past year to appease him, and on the rare occasions you did go, Eren had been right there with you, monitoring, hovering, making it painfully obvious that he didn’t like or trust your friends and your friends felt the same way about him.

They had been in your ear for months now, warning you that his behavior was concerning, that he was controlling every aspect of your life. The worst part? They weren’t wrong. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.

So this time, you refused to back down. You had to go—if not for yourself, then at least for the people who had been patiently waiting for you to come to your senses.

Eren wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Instead, he settled for damage control, reminding you—no, demanding—that you answer every single one of his messages throughout the night and call him the second you want to go home and he’ll pick you up. Because god forbid you stay the night with your girlfriends. God forbid he didn’t have a grip on you, even for just one evening.

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your dress, adjusting the hem before stepping out of your room. The black bodycon hugged every curve, accentuating the shape Eren had always been so possessive over. And judging by the way his eyes darkened the moment he saw you, that possessiveness was alive and well.

His gaze swept over you slowly, his jaw tightening. He didn’t say a word at first, just exhaled through his nose like he was biting his tongue. It was rare for him to hold back, but you knew exactly why he did—because if he started an argument now, there was a chance you’d walk out of this apartment and ignore his messages for the rest of the night.

And Eren couldn’t have that.

So instead of criticizing your outfit, he did what he always did. He pulled you into him, his hands trailing down your waist, pressing flush against the fabric he so clearly disapproved of. His lips ghosted over your cheek before dipping lower, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck. Then, before you could react, he sucked at the spot beneath your jaw, just enough to leave a mark.

You let out a sharp whine, shoving at his chest. “Eren.”

He smirked, fingers tracing over the faint bruise he’d left behind like a signature. “M’sorry, baby,” he murmured, though he sounded anything but apologetic. “You just look so good. Smell good, too.”

You sighed, shaking your head. You knew what he was doing. He’d played this game before, trying to soften you up with kisses and sweet words, hoping you’d decide to stay in instead. But tonight, you weren’t falling for it.

“Come on, ‘ren,” you said, stepping back before he could try again. “I’m gonna be late.”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward, a heavy exhale slipping past his lips. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he must’ve realized it was pointless. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and his jacket, leading you out to the car.

The drive to the club was quiet. His hand rested on your thigh like it always did, but there was a stiffness to his touch, like he was holding something back. When he pulled up to the entrance, he reached for his phone and sent you a notification.

“There. Sent you money for drinks,” he said, his voice low. “Text me if you need anything. Call me when you leave.”

You glanced at your phone before looking back at him. His green eyes locked onto yours, intense and expectant, waiting for you to promise you’d do exactly as he asked.

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thanks, ‘ren. I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look satisfied, but he let you go, watching as you stepped out of the car and made your way toward the entrance.

Inside, the club was already packed. Music thrummed through the walls, shaking the floor beneath your heels as you moved through the crowd. Your friends spotted you before you even had a chance to search for them, waving you over with excited grins.

The night started exactly as planned—shots, music, laughter, all of it. You danced with your girlfriends in the middle of the club, letting loose, letting the alcohol warm your veins and wash away the stress. A few guys—friends of your friends from university—joined in, pairing off with the girls around you. You weren’t interested, content just dancing with them, but then—

You felt hands wrap around your waist.

You stiffened immediately, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The touch was unwelcome, unfamiliar, and when you tried to pull away, the grip only tightened. The man behind you was drunk—too drunk to register your discomfort, too drunk to listen to your protests. You shoved at his arms, twisting in his grip. “Hey—let go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he chuckled, slurring something incoherent into your ear as he held on tighter. Eventually, you stomped on his foot hard enough with your heel that he let go, but the damage had already been done. 

Somewhere in the crowd, a camera was on. 

You didn’t know who recorded it, didn’t know how it got out so fast, but somehow, the video landed in front of Eren. Some guy—one of the ones dancing with your friends—had been filming his own night, oblivious to what he was capturing in the background: you, struggling against a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Eren follows that guy and by chance, viewed his story. And he saw everything.

By the time you finally ripped yourself from the stranger’s grip and rushed back to the VIP room, dragging your friends with you, your phone was already blowing up with notifications. Call after call. Message after message.

 What the fuck?

Who the fuck was that?

Pick up the damn phone.

Answer me.

Your stomach churned. You sat down, fingers flying across your screen as you started typing an explanation, but no response. You sat on the couch, in distress. Your friends pried, asking what was wrong, but you played it off, painting a smile on your face. “Nothing! I’m just a little overwhelmed from all the drinks and dancing. You guys should get some more drinks, I’ll join you in a bit.” 

The girls nod and make their way back to the bar. The moment the last girl leaves, your attention is back on your phone. 16 minutes have passed and still no response. You chew at your lip. You knew it was only a matter of time before his face appeared here. 

And you were right. 

The door to the VIP room slammed open.

Eren stormed in, his eyes locking onto yours. They were sharp, furious, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You stand up to explain yourself, praying to get an explanation in before he rains hell on you. 

“Eren, I didn’t—”

“Save it,” he cut you off, voice low, edged with something dangerous. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to argue, didn’t wait for an explanation. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you, dragging you through the club. You followed, chest tight with unease, because you knew—knew the second you got in the car, he was going to explode.

But the universe had other plans.

Before you could reach the exit, a body stumbled into Eren’s path, swaying with the weight of too much alcohol and poor decisions.

It was him.

The same guy from before. The same hands that had grabbed at you, the same slurred voice that had whispered too close to your ear. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused, but the smirk he wore was clear as day. He was saying something, words too muddled to make out over the bass of the music, but whatever it was—Eren understood. His shoulders tensed, jaw locking so tightly it looked like it might snap. You barely had time to react, to process the moment, before—

Crack.

The first punch landed so fast, so brutally, you almost didn’t register what had happened. The guy’s head snapped to the side, his body crumbling beneath the force of Eren’s knuckles meeting his jaw. A choked grunt left his lips as he staggered back, crashing into a nearby table, sending glasses and bottles tumbling to the floor in a shatter of glass and spilled liquor.

Gasps rippled through the club. The air shifted, charged with electricity, the weight of too many eyes turning to watch the scene unfold.

But Eren wasn’t finished.

He was on him before the guy could even think about recovering. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he yanked him forward, then sent another devastating punch across his face, knuckles colliding with bone. The guy groaned, his head snapping back with the impact, but Eren didn’t stop. His rage was relentless, a force of nature that had no intention of slowing down.

Another punch. Then another.

The force of each hit sent dull, sickening thuds reverberating through the air. Blood smeared across Eren’s knuckles, staining his skin as his breathing grew heavier, more ragged.

“Eren,” you gasped, reaching out instinctively, but he wasn’t listening.

He couldn’t hear anything over the white-hot fury roaring in his ears.

The guy was barely putting up a fight, too drunk and dazed to do anything but weakly raise his hands in a feeble attempt to block the blows. But Eren didn’t care. He just kept going, pinning him to the floor with his weight, his fist drawing back once more—

Until strong arms wrapped around him from behind. The bouncer.

It took everything in him to haul Eren off, muscles straining as he pried him away from the bloodied, barely conscious man beneath him.

“Enough, man! That’s enough!” the bouncer barked, struggling to keep a firm hold as Eren thrashed against his grip.

The guy’s friends rushed to his side, helping him up, but he could barely stand, his legs wobbling beneath him as he slumped into their arms. Blood dripped from his nose, from the corner of his mouth, smearing across his cheek in messy streaks.

You swallow hard, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing into your back as you force your legs to move. Shame coils in your stomach, heavy and suffocating, burning hotter with every step you take toward the exit. You don’t need to turn around to know your friends are still watching—silent, wide-eyed, exchanging looks you can’t bring yourself to decipher.

You just keep walking, head low, body tense, each step dragging under the weight of everything that just happened. The pulsing beat of the club feels like it’s mocking you now, a steady thrum against your ribs as you push past the crowd, past the mess Eren left behind, past the whispers and the stares. The moment you step outside, the cool night air hits you like a slap to the face.

Eren stands a few feet away, back against the wall, shoulders still rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline surging through his veins. The bouncer is in front of him, speaking low, one hand raised in an attempt to keep him grounded, to keep him from snapping again.

Eren doesn’t look like he’s listening.

His hands are still clenched at his sides, blood smeared across his knuckles, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He’s seething, barely restrained, like a live wire just waiting to spark. You hesitate for a second, nerves twisting in your gut, but then you take a deep breath and step forward. The gravel crunches beneath your heels, and at the sound, Eren’s head snaps up.

His eyes find yours instantly.

And just like that, the bouncer’s words fade into the background. Whatever thin thread of patience was keeping Eren in place? Gone.

He pushes off the wall, rising to his full height, and you swear the air shifts. The tension is palpable, thick and suffocating as he takes a step toward you. His expression is unreadable—stormy, dangerous, still brimming with barely restrained fury.

You open your mouth, not even sure what you’re going to say, but you don’t get the chance to speak.

“Let’s go.”

His voice is rough, tight, leaving no room for argument. There’s no question of whether or not you’ll follow him. It’s a command, plain and simple.

Then he turns, not waiting for a response, and starts walking toward the car—expecting you to do the only thing you can.

Follow.

But you don’t.

Not after what you just saw.

Your body refuses to obey, frozen in place as a cold, creeping realization sinks into your bones. Eren takes a few more steps, fully expecting you to fall in line like you always do—but when he doesn’t hear the familiar rhythm of your heels clicking against the pavement behind him, he stops. 

Slowly, he turns, and that’s when he sees it.

The look in your eyes.

It’s not anger. It’s not disappointment. It’s something far worse.

Fear.

His chest tightens, the breath leaving his lungs in a slow, staggering exhale.

Eren’s seen you upset before. He’s seen you roll your eyes at him, huff in frustration when he’s being stubborn, even cry when things got too overwhelming. But never—not once—has he seen you look at him like this. Like you don’t recognize him. Like you’re not sure if it’s safe to be near him.

A sharp, ugly pang of regret twists in his gut. His fingers flex at his sides, still smeared with the remnants of his outburst. He doesn’t even remember throwing that first punch—doesn’t remember the decision, just the impact, just the raw, unchecked fury that swallowed him whole the second he saw that guy put his hands on you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The club doors swing open behind you, breaking the suffocating silence.

“Don’t.”

Your friend’s voice is sharp with concern, and then she’s right there beside you, eyes scanning your face before snapping to Eren. Her grip on your arm tightens slightly, grounding you.

“She’s not going with you,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Eren’s jaw tenses. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at her. He only looks at you. 

Waiting. Pleading. Silently praying for you to tell her she’s wrong. That you’re still his. That you’re coming home with him.

Your friend gently pulls you closer, lowering her voice as she leans in. “Stay with us. Stay with me,” she urges. “You know you’re more than welcome to.”

You hesitate, one last glance at Eren, but the answer is already clear. You nod.

That’s all it takes.

Your other friends begin trickling out of the club, surrounding you in a quiet show of support. And Eren—Eren just stands there, watching it all unfold. Watching as you choose to stay. Watching as the space between you stretches wider and wider, until it feels impossible to cross.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, and for the first time tonight, you feel the weight of everything settle over you. You don’t want to get in that car. You don’t want to sit in silence while he stews in his anger. You don’t want to go home with a version of Eren you don’t recognize.

Something in Eren’s face cracks. It’s small, barely noticeable to anyone else, but you see it. You see the way his brows pinch together, the brief flicker of pain behind his eyes before he locks it all away. 

Eren exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. He nods once, more to himself than anyone else.

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away.

You don’t watch him go. You can’t.

Because deep down, you know.

That was the end of you and Eren.

—

The first month without Eren felt like a drug withdrawal. 

Your friends had to step in, blocking his number on your phone because they knew you wouldn’t. They were the ones who went back to your shared apartment, packing up your things and returning them to you in silent understanding—because if it had been up to you, you would have walked through that door and never left.

You weren’t strong enough to face him. To see the place where your life with him once existed.

So you let them handle it.

And in the weeks that followed, it felt like you cried enough tears to drown in.

Everything felt hollow. Your bed, too big. Your room, too quiet. Your days, a haze of exhaustion that you couldn’t shake, no matter how much sleep you got—though sleep rarely came easy. Your body ached for something familiar, something warm, something safe. But the only thing that had ever felt like home was the very thing you had to stay away from.

Eren.

Your friends were your lifeline, your anchor in the storm that threatened to pull you under. They kept you moving, kept you functioning. They took turns staying over, making sure you ate, helping you through assignments when even the simplest tasks felt impossible. They covered for you in class, took notes, did everything they could to make sure you didn’t fall apart completely.

Because you couldn’t face campus.

Not when you knew he was there.

So you hid.

You spent hours in the library, surrounded by books, teaching yourself the material from the safety of quiet corners where you knew he wouldn’t find you. Where no one would look at you with pity or whisper about what happened. Where you could pretend, just for a little while, that you were fine.

But the second month was different.

The second month, you forced yourself to return to class.

And the very first lecture you walked into—he was there.

Your heart lurched before you could stop it, the reaction so deeply ingrained that it disgusted you. Because even after everything, even after what he did, some part of you still longed for him.

But you didn’t let yourself look at him.

You didn’t need to.

You felt his eyes on you the second you walked through the door.

He was waiting for you.

You knew it before you even sat down. Before you even heard from your friends that he had been asking about you. That he had been the one sending them notes, making sure you didn’t fall behind. That he had been looking for you, searching for any trace of you on campus.

You didn’t know any of that then.

All you knew was that you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

So you took a seat on the opposite side of the lecture hall, your posture rigid, your focus locked on the professor, even as you felt the weight of his stare.

Unfortunately, avoiding him wasn’t as easy as you hoped. You had chosen your classes together, planned your schedules to align—because, back then, you had never considered a world where you wouldn’t be by each other’s side.

And now, you were paying the price.

He was in most of your classes. Which meant he was always there. Always watching.

Never approaching.

Just watching.

Sometimes he would get distracted, pulled into conversation with his friends, and you would take the opportunity to slip out unnoticed. But most of the time, you had to move. Had to find new places to sit, new spots to claim as your own. Because he had taken over the one you used to share, as if holding onto it would somehow bring you back.

But it never did. Because you knew better now.

You reminded yourself every single day that Eren was bad for you. That you left for a reason. That no matter how much you missed him, no matter how much his absence burned, going back would only mean getting hurt all over again.

And you wouldn’t survive it a second time.

By the third month, you were starting to feel like yourself again.

The ache in your chest was still there, but it was duller now—less consuming. There were even days when Eren didn’t cross your mind at all. Small, fleeting moments where you were too busy laughing with friends, too immersed in your coursework, too wrapped up in your own life to remember the ghost of what used to be.

You had caught up with all your class material, no longer drowning under the weight of everything you had missed. You even started going out again, slowly reclaiming the pieces of yourself you had lost along the way.

But parties were different.

Parties meant a high probability of running into him.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

The first time your friends convinced you to go out, you had braced yourself for it—for the possibility of seeing him across the room, for the way it might send you spiraling. But he wasn’t there. Or if he was, he stayed buried in the crowd, out of your sight, allowing you to actually enjoy yourself for the first time in months.

You had smiled that night. Laughed. Felt alive in a way you hadn’t in so long that your friends took notice.

Which was exactly how you ended up here.

“I don’t know… I really don’t wanna go,” you sigh, flopping onto your bed as your best friend digs through your closet. “He’s going to be there. I know it.”

She rolls her eyes, unfazed. “And? You can’t let Eren stop you from living your life.” She turns, leveling you with a look. “You’re bound to see him at graduation. What, are you gonna skip that too just because he’ll be there?”

You glare. She has a point, but you don’t want to admit it.

“I just don’t see why we have to go to this party,” you argue, grasping at straws. “It’s a frat party for the football team’s season finale win. Eren is the quarterback. That’s literally his event.”

“Which is exactly why you should go,” she counters. “Show him you don’t care. Show him you’ve moved on.”

You scoff, unconvinced.

She sighs, dramatic and exasperated. “Besides,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows, “that cute guy from Kirstein’s party—Porco, right?—he’s gonna be there. Maybe you two can finally hit it off.”

Your stomach twists, and you don’t know if it’s from nerves or uncertainty.

You hesitate.

Because deep down, you know she’s right.

You’ve spent the last three months avoiding Eren, avoiding anything that might put you in his orbit again. But that fear has kept you from actually living, from moving forward, from proving to yourself that you can be okay without him.

And you want to be okay.

So you exhale, pushing past the doubts clawing at the back of your mind.

“Fine,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “But if it sucks, I’m leaving early.”

Your best friend grins, victorious. “Deal.”

—

You step into the crowded frat house, the noise and chaos of the party immediately hitting you. The sharp stench of alcohol, weed, and sweat clings to the air, mixing with the heavy bass of the music that rattles the walls. It’s so loud, your ears ache, and the vibrations almost drown out your own thoughts. People are packed into every corner, some stumbling around in drunken oblivion, others caught up in their own heated conversations, laughing and shouting to be heard.

Your friends immediately vanish into the mass of bodies, their laughter and voices lost in the tide of noise. You can barely catch a glimpse of their heads as they weave through the crowd. You sigh, already feeling the weight of isolation. You should’ve pregamed, should’ve had a drink or two to take the edge off, but you figured you’d be alright. Now you curse to yourself. 

The feeling of being an outsider gnaws at you as you weave your way toward the back of the house, looking for some reprieve from the madness. The music seems slightly quieter in the corner, the people fewer and farther between. You make your way to the counter, pouring yourself a crappy, sour concoction. It’s just something to occupy your hands, something to take your mind off the fact that you're surrounded by a sea of people, yet feel utterly alone.

You lean against the counter awkwardly, your fingers tapping the rim of your cup as you survey the scene. The longer you stand there, the more you realize how much you wish you didn’t feel so out of place. It’s supposed to be fun, right? You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, yet all you can think about is what’s happening on the other side of the room.

And then you see him.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart skips a beat. His green eyes find yours almost immediately, locking with yours from across the room, and for a moment, the noise of the party seems to fade. It’s just you and him, that intense, familiar gaze burning into you. Your stomach flutters, your pulse quickening as you instinctively look away, embarrassed by the sheer weight of his stare. But even as you force yourself to focus on anything but him, your brain locks the image of him in that moment in a way that feels almost intrusive. You can’t unsee it.

There he is, sitting on a couch, looking effortlessly handsome as always. His friends are scattered around him, but it’s the girls that draw your attention. They’re all over him, leaning into him, touching his arm or laughing too loudly at everything he says. Their eyes are bright, eager, like they’re competing for his attention. The sight makes your chest tighten in an unfamiliar, raw way. You hate it. You hate how your stomach twists in jealousy, how your pulse spikes as you watch them cling to him, as if they’re the ones who belong there, the ones who get to be close to him.

It’s ridiculous.

You have no right to feel this way, but there it is. The jealousy. The sharp, bitter ache in your chest.

Eren, oblivious or maybe not, remains relaxed, his attention still half on the crowd and half on whatever conversation his friends are having. A beer bottle rests lazily in his hand, and yet you can’t help but feel that he’s watching you too. Noticing you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to react, to do something, anything, just so he can watch you squirm. 

So, you decide to play his game. If he’s having fun, then why shouldn’t you? The burn of his gaze on your back is unbearable, but you’re not about to let it control you. You clutch your drink a little too tightly and step toward the nearest guy—a random face you don’t even recognize. Without hesitating, you drag him to the dance floor, your body moving to the beat of the music as it blares in your ears.

The guy seems more than happy to comply, his hands moving almost immediately to your waist as you both start dancing. You can feel his eyes on you, a heat that sears through the crowd, but you refuse to give in. You tilt your head back, letting out a laugh at whatever nonsense the guy is saying, letting the music drown out the weight of Eren’s presence. You want him to see. You want him to feel the sting of watching you, of knowing he has no claim on you anymore.

The night carries on, and so does the game. You're all over the place, hopping from one group to the next—dancing with the guy, laughing with your friends, joining in on a game of beer pong. You’re doing everything you can to avoid Eren. When you make your way down to the basement for beer pong, you know before even turning around that he’s there. Right behind you, close enough that you catch the faintest trace of his cologne beneath the scent of alcohol and sweat. And because he’s there, so is everyone else. A crowd follows, drawn in by him like gravity, but you don’t care.

You don’t acknowledge him. You don’t spare him even a glance. Instead, you make it your mission to rub it in his face.

Beer pong used to be your thing. You and Eren were practically unbeatable. But tonight, you’re not teaming up with him. You find a random guy and start the game with him, your laughter filling the air as you take your shots. The game ends, and you lose—your partner was terrible, after all. But it didn’t matter because you were having fun.

Even though the guy was terrible at beer pong and completely clueless, there was something undeniably cute about him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, like he was captivated, and the more you chatted, the more it seemed like he was genuinely into you. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing. He was easy to talk to, lighthearted, and in the moment, you found yourself enjoying the attention.

You stepped outside for a break, finding a chair near the backyard to cool off. The chill air did wonders against the heat of the party, and for a brief moment, you let yourself enjoy the solitude.

Of course, the rando followed. He sat down beside you, leaning back casually, his presence comfortable in a way that didn’t feel forced. You had a casual conversation—mostly about the party, how much fun you were having—but you could tell where this was going. His eyes had a certain gleam, the kind that made your stomach flip with unease but also something else—something more promiscuous.

Then, just as you were about to stand and go back inside, he leaned in closer, his voice low and smooth as he whispered, “Wanna get out of here?”

You almost said yes. Almost.

But before you could respond, a strong hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you to your feet. The sudden force took you off guard, your body jerked backward, and you barely had time to blink before you were being dragged back into the house. You glanced up, heart sinking, and sure enough, it was Eren. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you through the crowd like you didn’t have a say in the matter.

You tried to break free, your heels digging into the floor, but it was useless—Eren’s hold was ironclad. He didn’t give you a chance to fight back, leading you down the hall toward the laundry room. The door creaked as he shoved it open, the dim light flickering above. Without a word, he stepped inside and pulled you after him, letting the door fall shut behind you with a quiet thud.

Your heart skipped, irritation flooding your chest as you pulled against him. “What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t even flinch. He stepped closer, his presence looming over you, dominating. His jaw was tight, clenched in frustration, eyes darker than you’d ever seen. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"You are my fucking problem," he growled, his voice like gravel, rough and unforgiving.

The air between you two thickened, suffocating. He was close—way too close—his chest brushing yours, his breath heavy with alcohol and desperation. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the space between you, and it hit you harder than you expected. You tried to ignore it, but it made your heart race.

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped lower. "You really thought I was gonna let you leave with some random asshole?"

You recoiled, your chest tightening with frustration. You fought the urge to push him away, the words already on the tip of your tongue. "It’s none of your business, Eren," you snapped, your own voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and frustration.

Eren’s lips curled into a humorless smile, but the anger in his eyes was sharper than ever. “The fuck it isn’t,” he spat, his voice filled with venom.

Your chest rises and falls as you try to steady your breathing, but it's impossible with Eren this close, the heat of his body searing through the tiny space between you. His jaw is clenched, eyes burning with something between anger and desperation.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Your voice shakes as you step back, putting distance between you. "You’re bad for me, Eren. You always have been."

His jaw tenses, hands balling into fists at his sides. "And you think you’re any fucking better for me?" He takes a step closer, eyes locked onto yours. "You think I don’t know how much we fuck each other up?"

"Then why do you keep coming back?" you demand, voice cracking despite your best efforts. "Why can’t you just let me go?"

Eren exhales sharply through his nose, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You think I haven’t tried?" His voice is rough, wrecked. "I’ve done everything I fucking can to move on. To stop thinking about you." His hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he forces them to stay at his sides. "But every time I try, I just end up right back here. Right back to you."

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head. "This isn’t love, Eren. It’s just something we don’t know how to quit."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching. "Maybe I don’t want to quit." His voice is rough, ragged. "Maybe I’d rather ruin myself than live a life without you."

His words slam into you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your mind screams at you to walk away, to end this now, but your heart betrays you. You don’t move when he presses closer, don’t push him away when his fingers finally brush against your skin.

"Tell me to leave," he breathes, lips ghosting over your jaw. "Tell me you don’t want this, and I swear to god, I’ll walk out that door and never look back."

But you don’t say a word. Because you can’t. Because you do want this.

Eren sees the answer in your silence before you do. A dark smirk ghosts over his lips, a glint of triumph flashing in those wild green eyes. "That’s what I thought."

His lips are on you before you can protest, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The second you kiss him back, it’s over. The tension, the months of pent-up frustration, the unbearable need—you both snap. Months of anger, heartbreak—it all ignites in a way that’s so ferocious, so consuming, that your knees nearly buckle beneath you.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, pulling you impossibly close until there’s not even an inch of space between you. You’re supposed to shove him away. You’re supposed to hate him. But when his hands slip down, fingers digging into your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the dryer, you don’t protest. You can’t.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathes against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. His hands tighten around your thighs, spreading them so he can step between them, pressing himself against you. “Missed you.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking him back up so you can crash your lips onto his again, swallowing the low groan he lets out as you roll your hips against him. His grip tightens—possessive, desperate—as he presses you harder against the cool metal, his body heat swallowing you whole.

“This whole time,” he mutters against your lips, voice low and wrecked, “you’ve been acting like you can move on, like you’re fucking over me.” His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you right where he wants you. “But I see you, baby. You burn for me just as much as I burn for you.”

You hate how true it is. Hate how easily he reads you. 

His hands slide up your thighs, bunching up your dress, fingers teasing along the bare skin underneath. His lips are everywhere—trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice all smooth arrogance, all cocky challenge as he drags his lips back up to your ear. “Go ahead. Push me away. Walk out that door.”

Your breathing is ragged, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. You should push him away. You should leave.

But instead, you whisper, “I hate you.”

Eren smirks. “Liar.”

Then his hands are on you again, and this time, there’s no stopping it.

“Eren—” you whimper.

“Shh.” His teeth graze the side of your throat, nipping at your skin before soothing it with his tongue. His breath is hot against your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you, baby.” His hands slide higher, thumbs brushing over sensitive skin, making your breath hitch. “I know you still belong to me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses his body against yours, hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind. The hard press of him makes your breath stutter, makes heat coil deep in your stomach. You arch into him as he sucks a mark onto your skin, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin.

“You gonna keep lying to me, baby?” Eren mutters, voice thick with amusement. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles over your thighs, his movements teasing, controlled.

You open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to shut up, to stop playing games—but before you can, he grabs the thin fabric of your dress and rips. The sound of tearing cloth barely registers before his hands are on you, gripping your breast, his mouth attaching to your sensitive tit. 

You gasp, fingers curling into his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer. He rolls his hips into yours, pressing the full length of himself against you, a broken whimper slips past your lips.

"Feel that?" he breathes, voice thick with need. "All for you, baby."

Then his fingers finally move between your legs, brushing over your thin, damp fabric keeping him from what he really wants. His smirk deepens. "Tell me what you want. Beg for it."

Your breath stutters. He’s playing with you, dragging this out just to watch you fall apart. You hate him. You hate how good he is at this—how he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to touch you to make you melt.

But you’re not giving in that easily.

“Fuck you,” you snap, but it comes out shaky, breathless—less of a threat and more of a plea.

Eren grins, like he’s thriving off your frustration, like it only makes this better for him.

“Oh, you will,” he purrs, dragging his lips down your jaw, your throat, sucking another mark onto your skin like he wants it tattooed there. His teeth graze your pulse, and you can’t stop the way your body jerks toward him.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours for just a second, his grip tightening. “Look at you.” His fingers press against the wet spot, slow and teasing, and you whimper. His favorite sound. “So fucking wet for me, and you wanna sit here and tell me you hate me?”

You bite your lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

But then he hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling it down, and fuck—

“You’re soaked, baby,” Eren moans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his head tipping back, his fingers barely dipping into your heat. “God, I fucking knew it.”

Your body betrays you, bucking against his hand, and Eren laughs. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear as he slowly, slowly drags his fingers up your slick folds. “Knew you’d stop pretending eventually.”

You should tell him to shut up. You should shove him away.

But when two fingers slip inside you, curling just right, pressing against that spot that makes you see stars–

All you can do is moan his name.

And Eren loses it. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, lips crashing into yours again, swallowing every sound you make. His fingers fuck into you, deep and slow, his palm rubbing against your clit just enough to make you tremble. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your head falling back against the dryer as he works you open, stretching you out with his fingers, his mouth kissing your pretty titties before trailing down to your belly button. You’re falling apart, barely holding on, your whole body trembling, burning.

And Eren knows it. Feels it.

“That’s right, baby,” he whispers, voice thick, lips dragging back up so he can see your face as his fingers fuck into you harder, deeper. “Cum for me.”

And you do.

Your body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you so violently you think you might black out. Eren groans as you clench around his fingers, watching every second of it with hooded, hungry eyes, like he’s memorizing the way you come undone for him.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes, his free hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he drags you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re shaking, whimpering, completely wrecked.

Then—without breaking eye contact—he pulls his fingers out, glistening with your release, and licks them clean.

Your whole body burns at the sight.

Eren groans, closing his eyes briefly before he looks at you again, smirking. “Goddamn. You taste even better than I remember.”

You’re still gasping for air when his hands grab your thighs, pulling you flush against him again.

“My turn, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. He grinds against you, and fuck—he’s so hard it makes your mouth go dry. “This is what you do to me.”

Your head is still spinning, but when you feel him reach for his belt, your heart beats faster. Eren’s belt hits the floor and your whole body tenses, every nerve ending on fire. Your thighs are still shaking from your last orgasm, but Eren—cocky and relentless—grins down at you like he’s just getting started.

“We both know you’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you so good you forget why you left me in the first place.”

You don’t get a chance to argue because suddenly his hands are gripping your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the dryer, forcing your legs wide open. And then—fuck—he’s pushing inside, and your brain short-circuits.

You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything but gasp as Eren buries himself inside you, slow and deep, stretching you in a way that has your head tipping back, your fingers clawing at his shoulders.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eren groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his hands digging into your waist like he’s losing his mind. “Still so fucking tight.” Your breath stutters. Your legs tremble. And then Eren pulls out just to slam back in, knocking the air straight from your lungs.

Your nails dig into his skin, and Eren grins like he loves it. “Yeah? Feels good?” he pants, dragging his lips down your throat, sucking another mark into your skin. “Tell me, baby.” You can’t form words. Can’t do anything but whimper, moan, cling to him like you’ll fall apart if he stops.

Eren fucking thrives off it.

“C’mon, use that pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he taunts, rolling his hips in a way that has your whole body convulsing. “Tell me how much you fucking love this.”

You want to fight it. You want to bite back.

But then he grinds deep, his fingers brutal on your thighs, and—fuck—you break.

“So fucking good,” you gasp, damn near crying as your head tips back, giving yourself over to him completely. “Eren, please.”

Eren’s groan is animalistic, his grip tightening as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you over and over, fucking you so deep you see white. “Yeah? Missed this cock that much?” he growls, his teeth grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Missed me that much?”

Your whole body shudders because—fuck—you did. You hate how much you did. Eren knows.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw, forcing your teary, fucked-out gaze on him. “You can’t stay away from me, baby. You never could.”

His thumb brushes your lips, and without thinking, you part them, sucking it into your mouth, letting your tongue flick over the tip. Eren’s breath stutters. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his body trembling against yours as he watches you. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You smirk, flicking your tongue against his thumb again, and Eren snaps. His pace turns brutal, desperate, unhinged, his grip bruising as he drives himself deeper, harder, faster, like he’s trying to ruin you. Like he’s trying to make sure you never forget who you belong to. 

“Not letting you go again,” he pants against your lips, each word punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust. “Not fucking happening.” The dryer beneath you shakes, slamming against the wall by the force of his thrusts. You break around him, legs trembling, body shaking, a sob of pleasure ripping from your throat.

Eren follows seconds later, burying himself as deep as he can groaning, “fuck, m’gonna breed this fucking pussy. Make you all round and full with my kid. Bet you’d fucking love that shit.” He bites down on your ear, his whole body tensing as he spills inside you. 

And even then, even when he’s breathless and spent, he doesn’t let go.

His arms stay wrapped around you, his lips press against your forehead, his breath warm and heavy against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, softer now, rough fingers tracing lazy patterns into your back. “Always have been.” And this time, you don’t argue. Because fuck, you know it’s true.

You look up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and for a brief moment, you let yourself savor the feeling of being close to him again. But that moment is short lived. His mouth crashes onto yours once more, swallowing any protest, any resistance. You whine against him, the sensitivity of your body only driving him further.

Without warning, he thrusts back into you—hard, deep—your gasp echoing through the room. Your nails dig into his back, and his body presses against yours, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savoring every inch of you. You can feel the muscle in his body, each movement setting fire to your senses.

The stretch is almost too much, overwhelming in the best way, and you can't help but chant his name, your body trembling beneath him. It feels like too much, but at the same time, you crave more. God, the way he makes you feel, you can’t fucking deny it anymore. 

Eren pulls back for a second, his breathing ragged, and looks at you, his eyes filled with hunger. “Say it. Say you need me, say you fucking belong to me.” His voice is rough, almost begging, but not quite. It’s a demand wrapped in raw desire.

“I need you,” you gasp, your head thrown back, lost in the feel of him inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots. “I belong to you.” The words come out in a breathless rush, and it feels like every part of you is finally breaking apart—letting go.

His grin is triumphant, dark, like he’s just won something, but he doesn’t slow down. No, he’s persistent. His thrusts are harder, faster, making your body jerk against the dryer, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the confined space of the laundry room.

“You’ll never get away from me again,” Eren growls, his grip tightening on your thighs, pushing you up against him harder. “I’m not letting you leave. Not this time.”

You can’t answer. The words are lost in the swirl of sensations, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. But when you feel yourself about to break, when your body tightens and your heart skips a beat, you know the end is near.

“Eren, I can’t—” you try to warn him, but it’s too late. You’re spiraling.

And then, he moves faster—deeper—pushing you over the edge. You explode around him, your entire body shaking as you scream his name, clinging to him like he’s the only thing that keeps you tethered to the ground.

He follows shortly after, his own release deep inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapses against you, his forehead resting on yours, both of you gasping for breath, tangled together in a mess of sweat and desire.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. The only sound filling the quiet room is your heavy breathing and the slow, steady hum of the dryer spinning behind you. Eren shifts, pulling you up against him, and you can feel his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. He grabs a shirt, handing it to you, and you pull it on before he tugs you back against his chest.

There’s an elephant in the room, and you don’t fight it. You can’t stop yourself from saying, “Eren, we can’t just pretend this is...”

He cuts you off before you can finish. "I know. I'm getting help."

Silence fills the space between you, the weight of his words settling around you like a heavy fog. Then he speaks again, voice raw, vulnerable.

“The night we broke up, the look in your eyes... it haunts me every single day. You were scared of me. And all I wanted to do was protect you. When that happened, I knew I needed help. And fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He holds you tighter, burying his face in your hair. It’s rare for Eren to be this open, this vulnerable with you. The only other time he’d ever let his walls down like this was when he found out about his dad’s affair. He’d taken it hard, and all he wanted was for you to hold him, console him. And that’s what you did.

“I’ve been going to therapy. I bottled up all my emotions, and the shit with my dad sent me into a spiral. I saw what it did to my mom, how it affected her, and I started thinking if I controlled you, you wouldn’t hurt me like that. Now, when I think back, I realize how fucking dumb that was. You’re everything to me. So precious, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

He pauses, his voice shaking slightly as he continues. "But I did. I pushed you away, and I was out of my fucking mind. I get it if you don’t want to jump right back into this, but... with time, could you give me another chance?"

You look up into his eyes, your thumb brushing away the tears that streak down his face. Your heart aches seeing him so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this alone, Eren," you whisper softly. "I wish you’d let me be there for you.”

He shakes his head, pulling you closer, his hands trembling. "Don’t apologize. This is all on me. I just… I can’t fucking lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

“You’re not losing me," you say, your voice firm but full of tenderness, trying to calm him down and reassure him. Eren stares at you for a moment, his lips parting slightly before he breathes out, barely a whisper, “I love you.” Your heart stutters in your chest, the words you've been longing to hear for these last few months. You lean in, your forehead resting against his as you whisper back, “I love you too. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

[lackadaisycats]

Does anyone truly love and care about Rocky besides Calvin? I feel like you gave 3 somewhat contradictory answers to this, the comic, which has Zib, Mitzi and Ivy expressing compassion to Rocky, the art gallery (I include Fables work)which can be a tiny bit mean to him and Your tumblr responses which imply but not directly state that Mitzi/Zib do indeed care. BTW I don’t mean that you/fable are bad people, I sincerely admire you as people and creators! I just struggle to see the answer to this.

Yes. There are characters that care about Rocky, but it's complicated. It is possible to love someone, for instance, while not really being able to abide living with them. It's possible to care about someone without wishing to be inseparable buddies with them. The core of Rocky's nature does make it difficult for him to find places where he easily fits in, and that much is not really his fault. However, he does have agency, and he has - with gusto - taken on a role that calls for him to lean into the destructive aspect of his nature. It's fine to feel a bit sympathetic about the first part, but that doesn't mean that he should get a pass on the rest, narratively speaking. Some of the lumps he's taken have been unearned, but many of them have been the results of his own (often violent) machinations. As there are numerous frantic messages in my inbox that I assume are all from you, I get that you relate to Rocky on some level. There's nothing wrong with that - as a writer, you tend to want your characters to be relatable. And as a reader, you perhaps experience a deeper, richer connection to story that way. I think a lot of us have felt like we struggle to fit in anywhere too. I certainly know that feeling. But you have to draw a line between yourself and a crafted fiction. Rocky might get teased, punched in the face, or tossed out on his tail in this world of criminal cats, but that is not emblematic of how you deserve to be treated. You deserve love, compassion, and kindness, same as every non-fictional human being. Please take that to heart. Please stop messaging me about this.

[hees-mine]

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬 𝐩𝐭.𝟒

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: ⓧ

Warnings: smut, multiple orgasms, cursing, dirty talk, taboo relationship, pet names, sir kink, mentions of oral, unprotected sex.

Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,299k

I’ll update as regular as possible so please stop leaving messages asking for updates in my inbox please.

⟱⟱⟱

Since you started hooking up with your best friend's dad, your sex life has been amazing, perfect, to be exact. There wasn’t a moment where he left, and you weren’t satisfied.

Being with him was wrong, and you knew it, but he was just so good to you that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

His touch was addicting. His kisses were like a warm blanket on a cold day, and you could still hear the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear while he fucked you so good before dropping you off at home.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into many times a week, and eventually, you had sex with each other every day behind your friend's back.

You even ditched school, lying to your friend about being sick just so you could have her father all alone to yourself.

And he wasn’t much better off calling into work because there was no way he could calmly get through the day without feeling your pussy around his dick. He’s been craving you since he laid eyes on you, and after getting to feel and taste you, there was no way he could get enough. Saying he was down bad would be an understatement.

“Fuck you’re always so fucking wet for me, princess” It was currently three thirty in the afternoon. Your back was pressed against his couch, legs over his shoulders, while he squeezed the meat of your thighs and rammed his dick into you over and over again.

“Sir, right there, oh god, yes” You gripped the couch for something to ground yourself with because you were losing your mind every time he went balls deep only to pull all the way out, leaving just the tip inside and thrusting forward once again, leaving you breathless as you clenched on his cock.

“Keep squeezing my cock princess feels so fucking tight” his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips as he picked up the pace, loud clapping sounds bouncing off the walls every time his sweaty thighs met yours. “We gotta h-hurry fuck- m-my daughters gonna be home s-soon” You had been going at it for about an hour already. He went down on you, and of course, you returned the favor sucking not one but two orgasms out of his precious dick.

You nodded your head too fucked out to answer as you bit your lip to suppress some of your noises. “Make me cum. Wanna cum on your cock, sir, please.”

“Fuck I got you, princess. Just lay there and take it like the good girl I know you are” he grabbed the armrest above your head, veins protruding from his forearm as his other hand drifted down towards your clit easily finding the sensitive pearl and rubbing soft but effective circles as he effortlessly rolls his hips coaxing out yet another orgasm from you he’d made you cum so many times in just an hour that you lost count but you still needed more and more, and the harsh crunch of your scorching wet walls only proved that to be so. “Gonna cream on this dick yeah?”

“Yes sir,” you moan, your hands holding his abdomen as he buries his cock deeper and deeper, so deep you feel like crying cause he is just that good. There was no other feeling in the world that could even compare to the way he was making you feel. “So good, so deep keep fucking me, sir, just like that fuck” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you could have sworn you were in heaven.

“Princess,” whimpering your nickname, he lowers himself down when he feels his muscles finally starting to give out. He presses his cheek next to yours, licking and flicking his tongue around your ear, nibbling on the lobe before dipping his tongue in the small canal, pleasuring your body in ways you could have never imagined.

He thrusts so effortlessly into your warm cunt, both of you on the brink as he fastens the pace of his thumb on your clit until you see stars.

“I’m g-gonna-sir. I’m cumming!” You shriek, the walls of your pussy, sucking him in so deep, begging for him to drop his load inside you.

“That’s my good little girl,” he rasps in your ear. Just a couple of thrusts later, you feel his thick cock throb against your heat. “Can I cum inside, please?” He knows you’d say yes, but that never stopped him from asking just to make sure it’s what you wanted too.

“Please cum inside. Don’t even have to ask, sir just want your cum in me all the time” You admit you knew it was shameful, but it was true you loved feeling his cream leaking from your hole when he was finished, even when you went home, his creamy white was still staining your swollen pussy lips.

“As you wish, my princess,” he kissed your cheek. Not even two thrusts later, he came inside you. What could he say? Your words had worked him up beyond belief, and he couldn’t wait to cream pie your pussy over and over breed your little tight wet cunt full of his seed. “Hmm fuck! So good princess, give sir a kiss, yeah?” He breathes against your lips kissing you feverishly, his veiny cock pushing all of his cum back inside your pulsing cunt until he collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. “Let’s stay like this for a while, and then I’ll take you home, okay?” He nuzzles against your chest, listening to your rapid heartbeat.

Before you could protest, his phone rang, causing both of you to jolt up in surprise.

He quickly grabbed it from his jacket, the phone screen showing his daughter's nickname, and he immediately panicked. “Hey, sweetheart,” he answers calmly, even though he feels like he’s going to throw up cause he’s still buried to the hilt and throbbing in your spent cunt.

You couldn’t hear what was being said. You could only see Heeseung’s worried face, which made you worry cause what you feared the most was being caught. “Now? Okay, Daddy will be home soon, okay? Bye, sweetheart, I love you.” he turned to you after hanging up his phone. “She’s gonna be here any minute. I have to take you home,” he pulls out of you reluctantly, quickly grabbing a tissue before the mess leaks down onto the couch.

You both got dressed in a flash. Moments later, he was backing out of his driveway and taking you home. It was comfortably silent in the car, and ten minutes passed before he was driving into your empty driveway to drop you off. “You’re coming over tomorrow, right?” He chews on his lip, worriedly afraid you might not want to come back after nearly getting caught with him.

“Yeah,” you turn to him, a small smile on your lips.

Your answer puts his troubled mind at ease as he returns your smile. “Can I have a little kiss before you go?” He mumbles while playing with a loose thread on the steering wheel.

You lean in, quickly kissing his cheek goodbye.

“No, I mean like this.” he quickly cups your face, leaning over the console to press his lips on yours, tilting his head to find a good rhythm as his nose brushes against yours. “Hmm,” he moans the moment his lips touch yours, and he can already feel himself getting excited from the short but intense make-out session, his hips bucking up to fuck the air, desperately trying to get some type of friction going. “Fuck” he whispers in between kisses, and it’s like you could read his mind as your hand traveled between his legs to press down on his erect dick. “Is anyone home?” He quickly asked.

“Not for a while. Why?” He breaks the kiss, shutting his engine down.

“Cause I need you so bad, please, princess. I'm so fucking hard already,” he begs you, but he doesn’t care how pathetic he looks. All he knows is that he needs to be inside you right now. Hell, he needed to be inside you ever since he pulled out.

“Okay,” you immediately agree. You couldn’t deny you still wanted more, even after those countless orgasms he gave to you back at his house.

You both exited the car, and you quickly led him to your room, where you locked your door and pushed him down on the bed by his shoulders. You straddled his waist, lifting up your skirt so your core could be in direct contact with his leaking bulge.

His hands went to your hips automatically as you ground your panty-covered pussy on his clothed cock. “Yeah, princess, just like that” You wrapped your arms around his neck while rolling your hips, using him as support to ride his dick.

After a while, he could feel the wetness hitting the crotch of his slacks, and he threw his head back, the wet, sticky sensation enough to have him desperately throbbing and dripping large amounts of precum.

“How am I supposed to go home like this, hmm, princess?” He looked down at the sight of his stained slacks. “All covered in your juices. Maybe I should just wear them. Let everyone know that you’re so desperate for cock you couldn’t help but rub your slutty pussy all over my bulge.” You hid your face in his neck, feeling shy from his comment. “It’s true though, right god only knows how many orgasms, and you’re still just shamelessly rutting your cunt on me, such a desperate little thing,” he guides you helping you roll your hips as your lips leave sloppy kissing all over his neck.

“Yes sir,” you whine helplessly, agreeing with him cause it was all true. You couldn’t stop humping against him. Even if you tried, you were just too desperate to feel him. “Please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, little one?” He hums, fingers slowly gliding under your shirt so he can grab your breasts.

You moan from the slight pinch he gives your nipples. “I need to ride your cock, please, sir. I want you stuffed inside me so badly” his cock can’t help but jumps in excitement at your words, and it takes him only two seconds to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down just enough for his hard wet cock to pop out.

He reaches under your skimpy little skirt, pushing your panties to the side. “Up” You raise your hips, and he grabs the base of his cock, guiding it to your soaking entrance as you slowly sink down on his tip. Both of you moan in pure relief after getting the feeling you both had been so desperately craving for. “Good girl,” he said, kissing your neck. “Now bounce on it. Make sir feel real good.” he put his hands behind his head, letting you do all the work.

“Oh god, yes fuck yes,” You create a quick pace from the start, still wet and stretched from earlier when he took you on his couch. “Love your cock so much” You grip the collar of his white dress shirt, bunching the material and sliding down further on his shaft, your toes curling into the mattress as you feel his balls kissing your outer lips when you take him impossibly deep.

“Fuck princess, I’m so close already,” he moans softly. “Look at that.” he lifts your dress up, showing you the white sticky mess on your groin areas.

“Sir!” Your legs grow weak at the sight of him disappearing inside you, not to mention the mess of cum coating his thick base.

He breaths shakily, his nipples growing hard from the stimulation on his cock. “Yeah, princess, I’m here. Just keep riding it just like that. Don’t stop fucking this dick until you cream around it” he moves his other hand from behind his head, one going to your waist while the other sneaks under your skirt to fondle your puffy clit.

Your jaw falls slack, tits bouncing up and down in his face as you give him the best ride of his whole entire life.

The bed squeaks continuously, and he can’t help but smirk, knowing he’s the one that’s got you this excited to the point you can’t stop moaning and slamming your pussy on his cock. “Please cum, sir, please,” you beg, just waiting to feel his cream again, and it’s safe to say you’re addicted to having his cum inside.

“Ah fuc- okay, okay.” he loses himself, turning into putty at your command as he shoots the first rope inside you. “Y/n, please, please, please,” he grits through his teeth, squeezing your soft waist. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for at this point. All he knows is that he wants to feel all of you, every last inch of you, of your warm pussy cumming on his girth.

Rope after rope follows as he massages your pearl, desperately trying to get you to release with him. “Sir,” you mewl, your knees growing tired as he rubs out an intense orgasm from you. “Love cumming on your cock” Your lips trail his jawline, wet messy kisses staining his cheek as he softly thrust up, pushing his cum back inside you for safekeeping.

He chuckles, completely out of breath, as you both finish nearly back to back. “Kiss me before I have to leave.” You leaned back, showing him a tired smile as he mirrored your appearance, face, sweaty eyes, hazy, and hair a ruffled mess.

“Okay,” you respond, going in for a kiss, and you knew you’d be calling in sick more often because this wouldn’t be the last time.

⟱⟱⟱

[lemotmo]

Listen...

I know that some of you have given up on the show and are very pessimistic about its future. And that's fine. You have the right to think that and form your own opinion.

But can I please ask these people to stop posting their doom posts and negativity in my inbox?

Please understand that I'm not talking here about the people who are doubting or unsure about things. Your questions will always be welcome.

This is about the people that drop messages in my inbox in which they attempt to 'explain' to me (in a very haughty superior way) how this show is doomed now, how Tim is playing with us and Buddie won't happen now yadayadayada!

Please know that I DO NOT AGREE WITH ANYTHING YOU SAY in those posts. I don't know what you expect me to answer either. The only thing I could possibly answer to all of your posts is 'I disagree vehemently'. 🤷‍♀️

Yes, I still think the show has a future, whether Bobby is really dead or not. And yes, I still think we are closer to Buddie than ever. And no, I am not delusional in any way. We have seen them set Buddie further in motion at the beginning of 8b.

Now did Tim make a stupid decision to put that terrible two-parter 3 episodes before the finale? Yes. Was it a dumb idea to kill off Bobby the way he did? Yes, no doubt about it. Did he make a terrible mistake by not including Eddie? Again, yes.

But does that suddenly mean that 8x09, 8x10 and 8x11 didn't happen? Were those many FaceTime calls between Buck and Eddie suddenly erased? No. It happened. We all saw it happen. The press saw it happen and wrote about it. Literally everyone is expecting Buddie to happen.

(Well... almost everyone. 🙄)

This is a narrative arc that will return and will be continued. We don't know how yet and we don't have a timeline. But they will get back to it in some way at the end of season 8 and in season 9.

So please, for the love of all that is holy, stop posting that kind of negativity in my inbox.

You have a blog of your own. Make your own post about this on your own blog. Because it will be a waste of your time to drop it in my inbox. I will never post it anyway. I just delete messages like that.

Thank you.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Fake Dating

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

Carlos/Charles

nsfw: In for a penny, in for a pound by @f1-stuff | E | 49.4k Summary: Charles needs a date for his brothers wedding and instead of finding someone to ask he decides to use an escort agency, as you do. Why I liked it: Listen, I am just a woman and not immune to the hairy charms of Carlos Sainz as a professional gigolo, okay? This fic is amazingly hot and the way the awkwardness transforms to flirty tension and back is impeccable.

"He doesn’t think about it much when he kisses him, their sweat turning it salty, skin flushed and warm from the exercise and the sun. He sucks at Carlos’ bottom lip, and all he feels is satisfaction and relief. And also, maybe, a little arousal. Not because of, like... Carlos. But just because of the high of victory, the exhilaration of beating his ex. Obviously. Not at all because Charles' eyes have been catching all day on the flex of Carlos’ bare thighs, legs lean and muscular and covered in dark hair. Or the tight cupping of his shorts over his ass. Or the movement of his shoulders beneath his shirt, clinging more and more to his skin as sweat dampens the fabric and outlines the shape of his pecs. Or the swell of his arm muscles as he clutches his racquet, flexing with every hit of the ball. Or even the messy sweep of thick, wavy hair at his neck, contained beneath a backwards cap until the end of the game, when he sweeps off the hat to dump his remaining water all over his head, like some sort of soft-core porn shoot. Charles realizes that he’s standing amongst a group of the bridesmaids, all of them staring at Carlos as he smooths the water through his hair and over his face, dripping idly while he zips up his racquet and grabs the rest of his things. Charles shuts his mouth and swallows, wandering away from the group of women before anyone sees him, shame reddening his cheeks."

Daniel/Max

Green Card by @mysticalbreadcollective | M | 10.7k Max is rich and needs a Green Card, Daniel needs some cash and a place to stay. The answer to both problems is for them to get married! I just loved how in sync they are with each other

"Yeah. He’s in the doghouse at the minute, mate. Keeps working late, and doesn’t tell me, do you, honey? And last week I cooked him his favourite meal and he didn’t even bother telling me he wasn’t coming home. Rude or what?” “Well, I of course am sorry, Daniel, already I said this. So many times. I brought you flowers to apologise but you just threw them out. And also, I have to work late. How else am I to fund your shopping habits?”

Lewis/Sebastian

nsfw: Let's try something else by @12romy | E | 20.3k Seb and Lewis come up with a plan to combat homophobia in F1.

“So, uh… I’m in a relationship…” “I mean, you know him pretty well, it's Lewis,” “Lewis. As in… Hamilton?” someone said, stunned. Sebastian nodded then almost died of a heart attack when a voice exclaimed “Yes, I knew it! Pay up losers!!!” He knew the man who screamed that, he was the one in charge of the social media account. “Alright, we'll talk with the Mercedes PR team to see what we can do. The good news is, you won’t need to create an Instagram just for that, Lewis has one already.”

Carlos/Lando

Somethin' Stupid by @ehcahache | T | 6.3k Carlos and Lando have been pining for each other, until Carlos does something unexpected.

"He's either stupid and bored and a masochist, or he's very in love with you, stupid and a masochist." "Max, I'm talking about my outfit, not my hideous life decisions."

like real people do | M | 10.6k Lando panics and tells his family that he's bringing his boyfriend Carlos to the family event, Carlos who's not at all his boyfriend. He turns to Carlos who plays his role a bit too well (with a side of George, Alex and Max teasing him about it). I just love how nonchalant Carlos is about pretending to be Lando's boyfriend, especially in front of his family.

"In that moment, Lando realises that he can never bring another man home to his parents again, because no one is going to compare to Carlos and now he’s going to have to die alone rather than try and find someone better because they definitely don’t exist."

Lando/Oscar

anything you ask i do (for you) by @fear8not1 | M | 22.4k Lando makes a bet. “I bet $100 I can make Oscar the happiest fake boyfriend for a month,” he repeats, holding George’s gaze proudly. “What… ?” Oscar asks again, his eyebrows raised in what must be his most expressive face. “Wait, what ?” George snickers, completely gone and spilling some of his drink in the grass, before answering with a shaky, “$200 you can’t.” I love George just being George. 😁

"Right. The bet. Right. He may have forgotten about that."

you love me (but you don't know it yet) by @nyoomfruits | T | 34.5k After being dumped by a trashy boyfriend Lando panics when questions about the said ex are asked and makes up a lie on the spot. He has a wonderful new boyfriend and he's standing on the 1st row of the fan stage! True is that Lando just panicked and chose the first cute looking guy not wearing Mclaren merch

“How the fuck did you meet Lando, then?” “I was working on this project, the deadline was the next day and it was really kicking my ass. Anyway at around one in the morning I figured I needed a break, so I went to the nearest Tesco to pick up a can of Monster.” “We both reached for the last can of Monster-“ “Ultra Sunrise, baby,” "He started swearing at me.” “Yeah, so he offered it to me, and then I felt bad because you know. I had just yelled at this guy. Over a can of Monster. So I told him he could have it,” “Then that went back and forth for a while,” “Until eventually Lando said to me. ‘You know what? You can have it, as long as I can have your phone number’.”

Charles/Max

nsfw: there you'll stand (next to me) by @minieggs11 | E | 97.1k Max reputation is in need of repair and what better way than to be seen making friends with the grid sweetheart Charles? Surely nothing can go wrong, its not like anyone is going to catch feelings. Why I liked it: The setup of this fic is brilliant and so belivable that Im sure there are many a twitter account dedicated to the conspiracy of Max using Charles for PR. The author has a great voice for both Max and Charles and the evolution of their friendship is so natural that I almost thought the author would let Max's deception pass unnoticed but fear not the emotional devastation will hit and hearts will be broken (and repaired) on both sides.

Pink dusts Charles’ cheeks at the second nickname Max has bestowed on him in as many minutes. Max feels quite warm under his race suit now. Is it getting more humid somehow? Max runs a hand through his damp hair in an attempt to get the few strands hanging over his forehead out of his face. Charles laughs again, a bit higher pitched than before. He smiles and blinks exaggeratedly at Max, before sighing dramatically, “I guess everyone just wants me for my pretty face and my good PR, and you’re no exception, mate.” And– huh. Max knows Charles was joking, but now that Max is looking, he supposes that Charles is well, objectively, quite handsome. In a very classical way. The kind of beauty that’s talked about not as opinion, but as fact. Yes, Charles Leclerc is very pretty, Max would say. But so would anyone. It’s just the truth.

George/Lewis

Mission Couple Goals by @redvh205 | G | 12.7k

“Georgie?” Huh. Well, that was certainly not somebody he’d have expected. In the past him and Lewis had comforted each other after bad races, but they’d never actively sought each other out if one of them was in their driver’s room. Being in the driver's room was the unofficial sign for wanting to be alone, and usually they respected that. If Lewis was here now, that probably meant he’d somehow found a way to turn this into a couple goal mission video. Which George absolutely was not in the mood for. “Go away. I don’t have the patience for cameras right now.” Lewis’s confusion could be heard through the door. “Cameras? What are you talking about?” George sighed. Apparently, his teammate wouldn’t let this go. He stumbled to the door and pulled it open, ready to tell whatever editor or admin to bug off – -only to find himself just ten centimeters away from Lewis’s face. Well, not his face, because he was twelve centimeters taller than Lewis, so there was only air on his eye level, but Lewis was still very close. And there were no cameras in sight. George cautiously peeked around the corners, but none were hiding there either. That was unexpected. Lewis looked rather confused and took a slow step back. “Are you okay?” George sighed and shook his head to himself. “Yes, I just … never mind. What are you doing here?” “I heard about what happened and wanted to check on you.” “Why?” Lewis tilted his head. “Because that’s what people do when they care about someone?” Another sigh escaped George. “You don’t have to do this, you know? There’s no one there. You don’t have to pretend as if you actually like doing all this stuff that we do in order to win this award.

Charles/Pierre

we should just kiss (like real people do) by @chaesonghwas | G | 4.9k Office worker!Charles brings Pierre his childhood bestie as his fake boyfriend to the corporate Christmas party who ends up following him to his family's Christmas party and acts a little bit too much like a real boyfriend, totally shameless about loving him. I loved this!

"YOU'VE BETRAYED ME!" Lorenzo continues, not fully out of his shocked state, "You're making me owe money to Arthur, Charles. Arthur. " "I bet you fuckers wouldn't get together until next year at least, oh my God." "You shouldn't have bet against us." Pierre shoots back, pulling Charles towards his body, who can only stare at him with wide eyes. "You, shut up. You're not my brother-in-law until you pay me back."

show me who made you walk all the way here by @yukierres | M | 36k F1 driver Pierre meets a cute guy at the hotel during the Monaco GP, the said cute guy turns out to be the Prince of Monaco who's trying to come out by having a long term partner. Pierre's trashy ex knows he's gay and is going to sell that info to the press. What 2 better candidates to fake date!

Charles squeaks down the phone. “Pierre,” he scolds. “Arthur is still in the room next door. We are not having phone sex!”

strawberries & cigarettes (always taste like you) by @duquesademiel | M | 21k Influencer Pierre and F1 driver Charles who once fake dated for PR go on a free sponsored vacation together as a couple. Charles making occasional appearances on Pierre's PR posts to boost engagement. Pierre his fake boyfriend on whom he has a very real crush. Both Pierre and Charles take the trip as an opportunity to live the boyfriend experience they think they won't ever be able to have with each other. They both try to show interest while feigning interest at the same time, trying to make the most of the time they're spending together.

Kimi/Seb

Fiancée for Hire by @kimisicecream | T | 27.5k Kimi Räikkönen needs a male fiancé to convince his family that he's really bisexual, Sebastian Vettel's main sponsor for his Formula 3.5 series just dropped him for Lewis last minute and needs to find a sponsor asap otherwise he won't have enough funds to continue racing. Luckily there are companies who are dedicated to find people fake fiancés, through whom Kimi will get a fiancé and Seb will get his money.

“Hm. Let’s see… Candles, my favourite music, Italian food… Are we having that proposal date we made up for the press?” “Maybe.” “I love it.” “We put a lot of thought into that date.” Kimi jokes. “Not bringing it to life would be a missed opportunity.” Seb chuckles. “Yeah and now we don’t have to lie about it anymore!”

[mt-oe]

I love ur workkkk 🥺🥺 … my heart melted

Can I request a mizu x reader in which reader was upset with mizu , and mizu trying to make reader feel happy with her ( I know I worded it poorly 😭😔. English is not my first language 😔). this can be sfw or nsfw. u write the spiciest nsfw stuff 😉

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting! I'm so sorry if this was WAY overdue. I'll try to make up for it by writing as best as I can <3

Also, please don't think too much about how you worded it. Trying to communicate your ideas, regardless of how you worded it, is already enough.

On an unrelated note, I am temporarily closing my inbox so I can catch up on requests. I wouldn't want to rush since that might compromise the quality of the fics. I deeply appreciate the messages and comments and would really like to answer them but I'm still too shy ;; I promise I'm really trying. Please don't get mad or disappointed in me. Thank you for understanding!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Mizu has done a lot of things before. Her sword has known the blood of many, cut through numerous organs, and had seen death like it was the next door neighbor. The fights she had fought were more ferocious than what most warriors could stomach. With a will of steel and the mind of a tactician, a capable swordsman she truly was. But...

How the hell was she going to get through this one?

Cerulean orbs narrowed as she watched you, or more precisely, your back. Her gaze roaming from the tips of your hair to the way your back slumped. Your huffs and whispered grumbles were the only sound that could be heard from the room.

She could feel her palms sweating and her fingers running cold. Not a single coherent thought formed in her brain from how unnerving the situation was. For the first time in her life, she was faced with an opponent she did not know how to defeat.

And this opponent was strong. Not even the swing of her sword or the strength of her hands could quell the wrath and sheer rage of this enemy. Mizu knew she had to plan her next move well or this could cost her everything.

And this opponent...was her wife's anger.

Yes, the ronin who quite literally bit someone's nose, survived a fall from several stories high, burned down Edo, was utterly helpless under her lover's wrath.

"I said I was sorry. What else do I have to do?" she asked, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you to face her. A groan of frustration boiled at her throat as you shrugged her hand off harshly. "I said I was sorry. What else do I have to do?" you mocked her, imitating her low voice before sticking your tongue. "Go figure it out yourself! Hmph!"

This was so stupid, she thought. But despite the words in her head, she was utterly lost.

All this drama just because she missed a kabuki show that you wanted to watch?

Sure, you had told her ahead of time. Sure, you already planned it out. Sure, you were already at the venue. But it was just a goddamn stage play, what were you so upset about? There would be another show next week with the same story anyway, and if you were so excited to watch, you could have watched it without her.

So what was the big deal about it?

She rolled her eyes before standing up, looking at you in resignation. "Fine, sulk," she grumbled in response, to which you stuck your tongue out. She rolled her eyes once again before strapping her sword to her waist. "Talk when you're no longer acting like a brat." And with those words, she left, slamming the door and causing it to bounce open slightly.

Upon hearing her footsteps fading, you immediately let out a loud sigh. You turned to look at the spot where your lover had previously sat on with a sense of hurt. "But I wanted to go on a date..." you whispered to yourself, throat tightening.

This was one of those moments where you really just had to say, 'it is what it is', and pretend to not get hurt.

You knew Mizu wasn't the most romantic person on the planet. Hell, it was even a surprise that she asked you out. However, there were times when you wished you could open her head and shove some cheesy romance novels, because how the fuck did she not get that you were asking her out on a date?

Urgh.

"What am I even expecting?" you asked yourself out loud, bringing the tickets you had bought for both of you. Tickets that were wasted just because she thought training and buying supplies were more important than spending 4 hours watching a play in a theater with her wife. "Maybe next time I'll just watch her train."

You love her. Of course you did. And you knew she loves you too, but sometimes her inability to understand or express romance made you question it.

Slowly and painfully, you tore up the tickets and fed it to the candle flame, watching as it turned to ashes. Welp. There goes your idea of a romantic evening. "And I planned it for so long too," you sighed as you brought your knees to your chest.

Unbeknown to you, your wife had secretly sneaked back, sitting beside the small door crack she had intentionally made earlier. A small frown on her face as she realized how much she fucked up.

You were right.

You did plan it for a long time. She could see your eyes widen every time the two of you passed by the theatre whenever you went out for supplies, filled with excitement that she couldn't understand then. And you already told her early, so it wasn't like it was out of the schedule or out of the way. Most of all, you were already at the venue.

You were waiting for this for such a long time.

You were waiting for her for such a long time.

And she wasted your efforts. She somehow thought that what you were so eager for was something she could trade for a few hours of extra training.

Guilt welled up in her as she continued to listen to your sighs, peeking inside the room every now and then to make sure you were okay. Her heart clenched in an odd, unfamiliar, yet extremely uncomfortable way at the sight of your frown.

Damnit. Mizu knew she messed up big time. However, even if she felt absolutely terrible, she also knew she couldn't just come back in and reveal that she had just watched you go through five stages of grief in less than an hour or else you'd feel like you forced her to apologize. But how could she make up for this?

As she was deep in thought, thinking of ways on how she could apologize, she suddenly heard the soft padding sound of your feet on the tatami mat as you stood up. "I guess I'll take a nap. Maybe I'll feel better when I wake up," she heard you sigh for the umpteenth time.

Her eyes watched you stretch before pulling the futon out of the closet and set it up. Your hands carefully undid the pins stuck to your hair before laying down, pulling the covers over you, the frown you wore never dissipating.

She could feel her conscience weighing down on her, telling her what a dense idiot she was. The feeling hitting her like a ton of bricks as she watched you slowly fall asleep with a heavy heart.

No, she wasn't going to let your day go on like this. If she fucked up, she's fixing it up.

Slowly and carefully, she got up and sneaked away, leaving the inn and going to the market. No matter how unexperienced or how unknowledgeable she was with how to comfort a person, Mizu was going to try her best.

-

Hours passed and the short nap you had planned turned into one of the longest one you've had yet. It wasn't a pleasant one, but it wasn't the worst either. Your eyes slowly fluttered open before squinting at the faint glow of the candle. The world felt slightly heavy and tilted as your head spu—wait? The candle?

"Oh shit," you whispered, shooting up and looking around in panic, head still spinning from grogginess. Oh no, you forgot to blow out the candle before your nap and accidentally kept it burning. Mizu was going to pissed at you, especially since it was the last one.

But wait—

Shouldn't it have burnt out already?

You brought the back of your hand to your eyes, rubbing away the sleep and grogginess to have a better look around. However, upon looking up, surprise took over your senses.

The room was...decorated?

Or at least there was an attempt.

At a distance from the foot of your futon sat your lover with a wooden crate in front of her. A bit of relief washed over your body as you realized that she had taken care of the candle for you, but still, you were heavily confused. "Mizu...what's going on?" you asked, yawning a bit.

She looked at you with the same emotionless stare she had before sighing. Her hands slowly turned the crate around so the opening was facing you. It was decorated too, and even if it was poorly recreated, you could recognize the setting. It was very similar to the kabuki theater you wanted to go to.

From her back, she brought out two dolls. One wearing a kimono in a color similar to what you were wearing, and one male doll that looked like a samurai. A heavy exhale could be heard coming from her as the embarrassment started kicking in. Was she really going to do this? Yes, yes she was.

Clearing her throat, she moved the dolls to the makeshift stage as she began her narration. "Once upon a time, in a small village, stayed a ronin and her wife." She glances momentarily at you before looking down again, a faint dust of blush on her cheeks. "Her very beautiful wife," she clarified.

Your eyes widened with a mix of delight and surprise. The grogginess from your sleep wore off at the sweetness of your lover's effort. You couldn't believe it. It was a stage play. A stage play about the two of you.

Her hands moved the dolls on stage, making them hold hands as she narrated the events in the story. "But one day, the ronin, being very foolish, decided to go up in the mountains and train instead of accompanying her wife," she said, dolls moving to match her words.

"And her wife..." she continued, moving your doll to look like it was sulking, "...got very upset." Blue eyes looked at you once again to check if you were still watching. You could tell that she was being very sincere about this.

"Not knowing what to do, the ronin went out to think and realized that she was indeed wrong and had been inconsiderate, that her wife was really just trying to bond and spend time in merriment."

She slowly set the dolls down and readjusted, sitting up straight before bowing her head slightly. "And so, the ronin apologized," she said with all seriousness. "I'm sorry, love. I knew you wanted to go out for so long. I should have appreciated your efforts more. I have no excuses."

Silence embraced the room after, completely amplifying the pounding of her heart as she awaited your response. Jitters ran through her body from nervousness. Mizu didn't dare look up, not until you gave her a response.

Seconds felt like minutes as she waited. An unexplainable kind of anxiety holding over her. What if you didn't like the little show she put? What if she just made your anger worse? Her thoughts were scattering by the millisecond. She wanted nothing more than for you to forgive her.

Her heart stopped as she saw your hands reach for the dolls, looking over them before making your doll face her doll.

"And the wife accepted the apology," you giggled, bending your dolls head slightly so it would kiss the representing her. Before she could speak, she felt your lips on her cheek. The sweet sound of your laughter soon followed, making her blush.

You lifted the dolls up to eye level and looked at them fondly. "You really went out and beyond, didn't you?" you laughed, wiggling them around in some form of cuteness aggression. She lifted her head and smiled softly. "I didn't know what to do," she admitted, finding your fondness for the dolls adorable. "And I really wanted to go back to my wife."

"You could have just said sorry, dummy. But.." your voice trailed off, eyes looking back at your wife's, leaning closer to her. "This made me unbelievably happy," you admitted. "Thank you, love."

Your wife's smile widened as you leaned in and kissed her softly. Her hands instinctively pulling you closer. Love and affection radiated from her as both of you pulled away, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Her breath hitched as you opened your mouth, anticipation building up regarding what you were going to say.

"But next time you do that, you're sleeping without a futon."

"Yes ma'am"

[zsakuva]

~THE ZSAKUVA INBOX~

Welcome, my crumpets, to the ZSAKUVA inbox! This will be open for anyone who would like to submit any questions regarding the Sakuverse in general, characters, plots, and settings!

Alternatively, you can ask me about writing, my own opinions on certain topics, or simply send a message for me to read which doesn’t require a response!

NOTE: Responses will be posted on weekdays only.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Please read these rules before submitting, as I will not reply to any messages containing the following:

No personal questions regarding sensitive information (you can ask for my opinions about things outside the Sakuverse)

When the next audio of a Sakuverse character will be released

If there will be more audios of a Sakuverse character

Questions about all Sakuverse characters as a whole (what every Sakuverse character/Listener thinks about, reacts to, etc)

More rules may be added upon further use of the inbox.

Please bear in mind that I will not answer every message I receive for various reasons, including but not limited to:

Being too subjective

Being too vague

Something I’ve already answered

If I genuinely don’t know the answer

Topics that might be explored in future content

Too many similar questions (Ex. 'How would __ react if')

If you'd like me to answer several questions, please limit each message to three.

Here, I will update a list of Frequently Asked Questions:

Can I write fanfiction/create fanart about the Sakuverse?

Yes!

Writing, fanart, and any kind of transformative work is completely fine, and you don't need to ask for my permission! I love seeing your creations, and it encourages me to continue doing what I'm doing to provide y'all with more stories to write about. I think it's a nice little cycle, so by all means, go for it!

How tall are the Sakuverse characters?

These are the official and public heights in alphabetical order:

Andrew: 5'10"/5'11" Cevyk = 5'10" in human form Dontis = 6'3 Elias = 5'9" Isaac = 6'2" Kayson = 6'/6'1" Luca = 5'6" Matias = 5'7" Niall = 5'7" Rowan = 5'9" Xanthus = 5'8" Zaros: 6'/6'2"

What body types do the Sakuverse characters have?

In alphabetical order:

Alex = lean physique with muscles Andrew = slim physique, slightly muscled Asirel = average physique to height, slightly muscled Cevyk = thin physique Dontis: = bulkier physique, muscled Elias = bulkier physique, muscled Isaac = bulkier physique, muscled Jonah = average physique to height Kayson = bulkier physique, muscled Leigh = bulkier physique, muscled Luca = slender physique Niall = slim physique, slightly muscled Xanthus = slim physique, slightly muscled Zaros = lean physique with muscles

What are the Sakuverse Listeners' nicknames?

In alphabetical order:

Alex = Gremlin Andrew = Darling Asirel = Pet Cevyk = Iqsus Dontis = Hunter Elias = Barista Isaac = Pickle Jonah = Bartender Kayson = Prefect Leigh = Super V Luca = Bon-bon (BB) Niall = Sussy Baka (SB) Rowan = Honey Tristan = Gumpy Xanthus = Love Zaros = Earis

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I can't wait to read your messages!

Love, King Crumpet <3

[puck-luck]

this is really rogue, but I needed to tell you that I love frat!Jack

Him and y/n have to be endgame and I think he would totally ask her out after they’ve just fucked.

she would totally turn around from her little spoon position and slap him on the shoulder, giving him ‘seriously? you’re asking that RIGHT now?’ eyes but he’d be all heart eyes and answer “so that’s a yes?! 😍”

he would get so giddy about it when she agrees and he’s sooo nervous! shaking in his little boots! and he’s stressing like what if she doesn’t like me like this???? and I can totally see him showing up to her house with flowers and overdressed (polo and nice pants and no airforces (he is trying so hard)) for just an ice cream date and she thinks it’s hilarious because they’ve been hooking up for months and all of a sudden he’s so nervous.

It’s so endearing when he drops her back home and she kisses him good night and he gets all blushy. she thinks it’s hilarious because he’s seen parts of her body that nobody else has and he’s blushing over a kiss- which she has given to him many times before.

maybe they show up to the next frat party on Saturday an official item and he will not let her out of his sight because now that’s his girl!!!! some Phi Kappa Psi guy coming over? he’s leaning down, arm around her waist- to look her in the eyes to listen to her talk and she’s crawling into his embrace like a cat UGH THEYRE LOVESICK (so am I!!!!)

i’m so sorry this is so long, but I had to get it off my chest 

DON'T APOLOGIZE OMG! normally i am CON-long asks because i've had people in my messages and inbox being mad at me before but THISSSSS is the kind of shit that i love!!! i LOVE when people like you are so into the universes i've created that they can dream up a scenario that is completely canon.

this is EXACTLY how i was imagining it going down in the frat!jack universe!! he's so cute and he's so stupid (because he's head-over-heels) that he would do allllllllllllll of this shit!!!

lowkey since i'm not a fluff writer, you've basically been nominated as my frat!jack co-writer because this is exactly it. i probably won't ever actually write their dates or their fluffy little romance at the frat parties (she IS the frat's sweetheart– even if she doesn't have the official, elected title of sweetheart), but this is EXACTLY it.

i love u frat jack

p.s. i'm going to be writing one slightlyyyy angsty frat jack blurb that implies that someone is ghosting someone else, but it is all resolved in the end. they have to have that little speed bump in the relationship before jack asks her out and wears his suit for their ice cream date🥹

[inbabylontheywept]

So. So. I have a horrific backlog in my inbox, and past attempts at answering it have generated more asks. Generally at a higher rate than I could answer the asks. Exceeding escape velocity. And I've been mulling over how to solve this, and my idea was to create a super-bus answer post. It'll be a little lengthy, so, you know. Click read more at your own risk. Roll them dice.

Well, you clicked it. God speed and god bless.

--- @meowserita says

I feel obligated to tell you i stayed up till four am reading a bunch of you stories, because they're incredible. Also feel like saying that the only other times ive stayed up this late in recent memory is when i was binge reading one piece so take that as you will. We'll see how much i regret this but odds are i wont like i didnt regret staying up reading one piece

Hahaha! Ha! Oof. I am extremely flattered and awed and impressed but also, my stories are going to be there tomorrow, and the next day, and maybe forever depending on how this whole "civilization" thing pans out. So. Sleep more. But also thank you for being a mega fan.

I had like, a week long binge of Naruto in middleschool that was awful. I didn't even like the show that much. People recommend anime to me now, and I feel like a former alcoholic turning down drinks at a party. No thank you, there's a 99% that will simply help be relax after work one day and a 1% chance that will ruin my life and I'll catch myself unironically saying "believe it!" years later, and I just can't take that chance. I have too many people depending on me.

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Anonymous says

i see you are also from Utah. do you have a favorite swig menu item

No. I've never actually been into a Swig. There were a few soda shops back in AZ, but I never really got them either - I'm still not sure how a gummy shark in a blue soda is supposed to make it taste better.

My poison is generally gas station stuff. Slurpees are amazing, and I also like their little pickled sausage snack things. Probably literal poison, but they call to me.

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Anonymous says

four more messages in my head. four more tests of sanity.

hm. troubling. hope you pass.

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Anonymous says

yooo “fireflies infinity mirror room” mention!!! i lived in Tempe for a few years…one time i was making my way down the escalator from the PHX skytrain and there was a group of like 20-30 Mormons (?) at the base of the escalator waiting there to welcome out-of-state Mormons to some sort of Mormon convention in…well, Mesa, presumably? google is now telling me it may have been for the Easter pageant.

That does sound likely. My grandpa was actually in charge of the easter pageant for a few years down there - I actually broke my arm on the little pony Mary rides to Bethlehem. I was trying to keep my little brother and sister on it by using my arms as a seatbelt, but when they fell off anyway, I just had to kids land on my arm from 6 foot drop and got blessed me with a third elbow. I had some crazy ideas on how to become a professional baseball player with it, but my dad insisted we go to the hospital to do drugs, and when I woke up they fixed the damn thing. Could've gone pro.

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@synapticwanderer says

hello! just wanted to say I'm a big fan, your stories make me laugh and sometimes cry and sometimes both, sometimes at once. when my partner asks me what I'm laughing so hard at I read them to them, and sometimes I just go read them to them anyway. thank you for sharing your delightful way with words with us, and I hope you don't mind that I've got notifications on for your posts (you and I think three other writers at the moment) anyway, have a great day!

I don't mind! I hope I haven't ruined that privilege, actually, I shitpost more than most people think. I like mixing happy and sad as well as silly and earnest. But. Yes. A lot of shitposts.

Anyway, thank you for the comment! Happy trails.

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@funnynamedottxt says

I kept hearing about your wrestling post, and then I saw the word “bisexual” when you were talking about it, so, needless to say, I sought it out immediately.

And, while this isn’t technically part of the actual post, in that reblog where you were talking to that one dude about sexism and societal issues and shit, you made some pussy joke about Lake Michigan and that may just be the best thing I’ve read all week.

Sorry about the run on sentence btw, I know it probably deeply hurts the writer in you, but I find it funny and am too lazy to self-censor sooooo

I'm glad you had a good time reading it. I don't know which gender I'd imagine the great lakes as to be honest. I just know that their thing with Michigan is beautiful and would be very distracting should I ever become an astronaut. I don't want to make fun of people for wanting a better world, and I would actually say I did a botch job on my response. Didn't realize it until several hundred people got mad at me. I know I write well, and the catch .22 of that is that people assume that my ability to read the room is probably higher than it is.

Anyway. I don't fault them for getting mad. Not my finest hour.

And I'm not a snob about run on sentences by the way. English teachers want to make rules about how you write and rules to follow, but that's because they need to grade by rubrics for it to be fair. It turns an art form into something mechanical though. Just make it natural and the rest comes after.

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@00x7 says

Hi. I hope you're doing well.

I had read your wrestling story. I had not laughed so hard in a great many years. I thank you for this, though I am also sympathetic to your misfortunes.

There was enough going on that I was naturally curious if you were or are Mormon, a curiosity born from being someone who grew up as such myself (something that being queer doesn't really bump up nicely against, though you hardly would need to hear such a thing from me), and which visiting your blog quickly answered for me.

Of course, scrolling down for two seconds immediately had me realize that you were also the kid with the grandpa and the worms. I had read the worm story before, but visiting somewhere and realizing it was you was a nearly transcendent experience. My third eye was rather forcibly opened. What a storied life you have had.

Anyway, as an amateur writer, I'm very happy to have found your blog. We don't know eachother, but your words resonate with me.

Whenever you read this, I hope you have a good one. Thank you.

Oh! That's my favorite thing - when people like two different stories with very different tones. It's kind of a would you love me if I wasn't beautiful sort of question - would you like my writing if it wasn't purely silly? And it makes me happy when the answer is yes.

I actually wandered through your blog to try and find your writing, but I didn't have much luck. I'd love to see some, if you're willing. Send me a link if you keep it on another platform. I couldn't do a critique if I wanted to - all my writing knowledge is just gut level stuff that I don't know how to share - but it's just a fun way to know people. And sometimes, I see a style and I go ah, I can pick a few shiny bits off this and wear them around.

---

@turtletotem says Your bio says to tell you if we write, so, new follower here, and i write! Lots of fanfic (links in bio) and also original fiction under Shelly Greene and Elizabeth Belyeu (both on Amazon). Feel free to check it out, but I won’t take it personal if you don’t, lol.

I checked your pages on AO3 for this, and alas - No snippets for me first. You write books and novels, which is something I've always aspired towards, and never really suceeded at. I had this view when I started writing short stories that I'd eventually writer longer stories and serials and in fact I just got better at writing short stories. Which isn't much of a tragedy, actually, but it's a road I haven't really moved forward on yet. Writer to writer.

As a reader, I already have several books I've promised to read people. If you have any shorter works (less than 5k words?) lob them my way though! c

---

Anonymous says

Just read your post about Atlas Shrugged (my condolences, comrade) and I must, simply MUST ask if you've ever heard of The Cobra Commander Dialogues? It asks the very important question "what if Cobra Commander was there and found this all at best inane and stupid, and at worst it offended his villainous sensibilities?" As someone who hasn't read the book OR watched the cartoon I found it very entertaining!

I just took a peeksies at those - they're beautiful. Dialogue is a great weakness of mine, and it is hard not to be a little envious of this writer. Thanks for sharing this with me.

For the curious

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Anonymous says

Your story about the breakup and the olives and the Slim Jim's and your dad made me cry -- not like, tear up, but an actual good cry for a couple minutes. I don't totally know why I reacted like that but I definitely felt better in some way afterwards. So, thanks. I think I'm gonna remember that story for the rest of my life.

The story stuck with me both because everyone involved was good. My ex's dad, the neighbor, my dad - everyone was doing their best. And it was true, wasn't it? Brains are good at remembering bad things. It's a breakup. And it hurt like hell. But the pain of that memory carries with it this feeling well, even when things suck, people don't. I also liked this view of my dad parenting so consciously. It wasn't a background thing to him. He thought a lot about what he was doing, and what he was saying, and how he was treating me. I owe him big for that.

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Anonymous says

What did you do with the left shoes after your date?

So, I think teenagers like being able to convey fuck you, I do what I want through their clothes. There are punk scenes for that, and goth, and other things. My way of doing that was just dressing aggressively badly. Mismatched plaids and sports jackets meant for people half my height and twice my width, purchased from goodwill, and basketball shorts mixed with knee high socks and on and on. That was part of my teenage rebellion.

Anyway, I added the shoes in and just wore mismatching shoes to make the outfit worse, both because it was a fashion crime, and because it was a litltle inside joke with my friends who knew the story. I wound up losing them over the years because I would use the left sets as makeshift projectiles.

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@galapagos-spinch says

I just wanted to compliment you on your story about wrestling a girl in middle school, you're a fantastic writer

Thanks. I have some regrets about that story, but it was fun to write, and it from a craft standpoint, i am proud of it. I appreciate the comment. :)

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Anonymous says

equality is when young boys aren't allowed physical boundaries i guess

Eesh. We're getting to wrestling asks. Look, when we all signed up for wrestling, we signed up to wrestle girls. It's part of the sport. If your boundary is to not wrestle girls, the way you maintain it is by not signing up for wrestling. The point of my response, which I did not convey clearly enough, was to ask for forgiveness for failure. A middle school boy falling short of the right thing is different from a middle school boy seeking to do the wrong thing, and as a bar, it's...

It's the kind of thing I'd hope people would go, Well, they're shits, but I can't hate them over it. Don't defend us as having done the right thing - we did not. Just, have some grace for the weakness of teens. They're still growing, and if you put too much pressure on them, they'll crumble. And we crumbled.

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Anonymous says

Hey there! Sorry, not actually a question, just wanted to say I've seen posts of yours reblogged before on occasion and I finally started following you because you're a gifted storyteller and your stories are hilarious, poignant, or both!

Oh! A relief. This is so nice. Thank you. Hopefully you read this. Maybe I should turn anonymous asks off or something going forward if I set myself on doing more of these super-bus replies.

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Anonymous says

i am crying with laughter at your stories. the way you tell them is perfect, please never stop

I'll try. I had a several month period of no writing after burning out on HFY. Wasn't sure how to make a genre change. I'll probably have more periods of quiet like that, but to be honest, my writing is probably my favorite thing that I do. I like engineering, and I'm pretty good at it, but I love this, and I am very good at it, and in periods where I don't write it feels almost painful.

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@auronlu says

just sending you some gentle love from an older queer person.

My parents moved to Utah after I went to grad school. I am eternally grateful that my dad turned down that promotion the first time, when I was about to enter high school, because I didn't want to lose my friends and move to Utah and go to school there in the 80s.

So I escaped, but I've seen a little bit of what you had to go through and I've heard from some of my mom's friends that she's made there how hard it is when you don't conform. I'm glad you were able to escape and that you have your own life now.

I bet that girl remembers you and that when these topics come up, she's not as willing to throw people like us under the bus without question.

you did the best you could in a very difficult situation, and by being you, you helped some of the next generation realize the lines they're told about queer people may not be true.

There may have been a closeted or questioning kid in that class, reassured by your example or simple refusal to show prejudice. you don't know what positive impact you had on those kids, but you went in with the best intentions you could and I have a feeling you did more good than you know.

take care and have a good life

( note: my main blog is actuslly @sepdet )

This is actually one of the earliest asks that I didn't want to answer because I didn't want to lose it. For anyone else looking, they're talking about a story I told about teaching primary as a Mormon.

I hope she does. I don't think anyone in the ward ever actually knew I was bi - I kept that very close to my chest. Even after I left. The kids certainly didn't. But they knew that I loved them very much, and they apparently felt strongly that I was a good person. I think the lesson I gave them was that a person can leave the church and still be good. I hope that serves them well.

---

@karmaajr says

UR A FUNNY GUY 🫵

aw yissssss

---

@abisexualfrog says

Hello, I just wanted to say that I really like your stories and the way you write, your style

Sometimes I’m in a bad mood and then I go read a few of your stories -I especially like the ones at your work- and it cheers me up because of how funny it is. (The fridge story? So good)(oh and the water balloon and and and… endless)

Im not super good at compliment because well English isn’t my first language and all that but I figured I could still tell you, can’t hurt.

So yeah I really really enjoy your writing!! It’s so good!

And not just the stories of things that happened to you, the other ones too, they are also very good

This is another one of the ones I kept because I didn't want to lose it.

Thank you for reading my stories. Your english is fantastic. And it is rare to get comments on my old fictional sci-fi pieces - those were kind of my baby's-first-steps. If you read those you are in deep, and I am incredibly touched.

I'd hug you if I could.

---

@rockinhand says

the red bun on those burgers was actually dyed via Beets. i tried it when it was around and it was unremarkable

I know what this is referring to. Surprisingly. But I will leave it be and just enjoy have this remain esoteric bordering on arcane.

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@newkittypoom says

i saw your reblog on that falin fanart and i was like "wait. this is the 28 eggs snake guy?" and i came from the post about your wrasslin days and i saw you answer an ask about being ex-mormon and well. im definitely following the blog for your writing. thanks for sharing these stories!

thanks for commenting! It's flattering to get recognized online. Means my writing voice is distinct. Got a little niche and I'm thrivin' in it.

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Anonymous says

I'm sure someone must have pointed this out by now, but you weren't dating just because she thought you were dating. If that wasn't the kind of relationship you thought you were in, you weren't dating. She was just being presumptuous. You didn't "accidentally date" someone. You can't. Dating is a mutual, consensual thing.

Yeah. Yeah. Phrasing and all.

--

@nbspacegay says

(1)

Hi I read your dating stories they are hilarious. I am spiritually holding hands with you because I too am terrible at dating. I accidentally pterodactyl screamed at my boyfriend when he told me he loved me once. I did also love him. I just panicked, screamed and then quite literally sprinted away. I also did not have the excuse of being in high school because I was in university.

(2)

if you so choose you can publish that last ask, i sent it becuase i thought you and your followers might find it funny

(3)

also sorry for sending you three messages like a lunatic, but also feel free to ignore it

I haven't been ignoring this, it just got buried and then I panicked and it has been crushing me like an ancient marsh, squeezing out all my peaty-bits until all that was left was an ultra-flamable bed of hydrocarbons.

Pterodactyl screaming at your boyfriend is a power move. You should do it more often. I am going to answer more questions that way. I had a customer with a masters in geology ask me why I could not provide their specified sample rate, sample times, and sample counts, and I had to explain to them that you can actually only pick two of those numbers, and the third just happens, and that the numbers they gave me did not work that way. It's like saying "I need to drive 50 miles, and I want to drive at 15 mph for two hours." I'm like, yo, go faster, or drive longer, but you have given me a multiplication problem that does not work. And they kept arguing with me, despite the actuall oscilloscope screen telling them, hey, bozo, that math does not math, and I kept trying to reason with them, when in fact I should have just pterodactyl screamed.

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Anonymous says

When I saw your blog title my first thought was that it's a reference to psalm 137 (it's on my mind since it was just tisha b'av) and was wondering why a nonjew would do that, but then I realized you're a fan of Babylon so it's probably a reference to that. And then I googled it and apparently its also a song. So which one/which combination are you referencing?

Also your blind date story was a fascinating read, it made me laugh. Very impressed by your chutzpah

Oh nvm, saw that you answered the above in another ask, feel free to ignore

No, I totally get it. Mormonism robbed and scrambled the iconography of a lot of religions, but the two it yoinked the most from are the Masons and the Jews. Like, it is my culture now, but I will acknowledge that my culture is what would happen if you asked a 14 year old conman from NY to skin your culture and wear it. I can't imagine how weird it must be to hear us talk.

Glad to have you approval on the blind date story though. That was a nightmare.

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@conkreetmonkey says

Personally I think you should do the egg thing again just for the hell of it. I honestly would because you made it sound fun, but eggs be expensive around these parts

My budget is a liiiiittle bit tight for the next month because my wife is doing occupational therapy, but there's a grocery store nearby that sells quail eggs, and to celebrate her finishing that, I am going to be a dozen and shotgun those bad boys. Hell yeah.

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Anonymous says

bulking must be so easy if you can effortlessly consume 15 raw eggs

No, for two reasons.

The first is that it was not effortless. It was effortful. I had to sweat to get them down. I had to fight them into me. I have a very vivid memory of finishing the eggs, and then leaning over to tie my shoe, and feel the eggs start to actually tip out of me, not even as like, puking, but like emptying water out of a boot. I actually had to sit for a half hour after that for the eggs to actually stay.

The second reason is that eating is easy for me, but gaining muscle mass is not. If I work out like crazy and lift weights, I get very wirey, but I never actually get big. I tried bulking one time, and my muscles stayed the same size while the 20 pounds I gained just went right to my belly and I looked like a grape on a toothpick. Very wild experience. Made my peace with being a skinny nerd.

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Anonymous says

just letting you know that you can sterilise raw eggs by keeping them at 130°F for a few hours, you can do this with a sous vide and eat them with no salmonella concerns

I love tumblr so much but all the people that read a story about some idiot eating 15 raw eggs on an impulse and then went ah, yes, this man clearly owns a sous vide machine and is willing to use it are crazier than I am. Get some realistic expecations of the world. Know your audience. You are setting your bar too high, and will find yourself endlessly disappointed. Stop it. This is why left leaning people are so fucking sad. They read the egg story and think they can solve my life with a sous vide, instead of reading the egg story and realizing that there is nothing in this world that could possibly save my from myself. I am not a stupid person. I am a highly motivated clever person who enjoys doing stupid things. There's no stopping that.

---

@brambledboneyards says

Hey OP I just wanted to let you know I was informed when I was younger that farm fresh eggs will not give you salmonella. I would recommend fact checking this, but if it does remain true I hope you can date the cravings once more

This is actually good advice. I know several people who own chickens down here. Bless you.

---

@queerdo-mcjewface

Some stores sell pasteurized eggs for recipes that require raw or undercooked eggs

Alas, they only sell egg whites down here, which are flavorless. I want the whole egg experience. The slime, the yolk, the cracking open - I appreciate the advice, but no, it's just not visceral enough.

---

@decentmonster says

you'd probably love quail shooters tbh, you can get them at most sushi restaurants and theyre served raw and are really good (also safe to eat)

Also farm-fresh eggs are less likely to have salmonella!!

Two months time, I will eat a dozen raw quail eggs.

---

Anonymous says

I want you to know the egg story is literally one of the funniest things I've ever read in my life. I laughed so hard I woke up my husband

I think that was the first little life-short-story thing I posted. Maybe? I'm glad you had fun reading it.

[jcollinswrites]

FAQ

Is this a one-book story? Yes. I'm currently not planning any sequels. 

How many chapters will there be?  At the moment, I'm planning 10. 

What is the rating of the game? The finished version of the game will be rated adult only. This is not a Young Adult novel by any means, even if the prose seems fun and goofy in some places. The story will contain heavy and dark themes, mental health problems, violence, death, gore, strong language, and optional sexual content, to only mention a few. The whole list of triggering content can be found in the beginning of the game. READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE PLAYING, and make sure to check it regularly because the list is constantly updated as I add more content.

Is the story historically correct? No.

Are you a historian? No, I'm not. This is only a passion of mine. 

When does the story take place exactly? In an alternate setting that resembles the end of the Second Intermediate Period / the beginning of the New Kingdom era, so approximately 1550 BC. 

Were the characters inspired by real historical figures? Some of them, yes. 

I noticed that X detail is not historically correct... Yes, I'm aware. Magic isn't real either. 

Why do you use modern words when the story takes place in Ancient Egypt? Because I'm writing it in a way as if I was translating the character's words from Ancient Egyptian into modern English. That's also the reason why I use slang, sometimes incorrect grammar, abbreviations, and such. Additionally, English is NOT my first language. Please keep that in mind. 

Do you use AI? No.

Can I play without romancing anyone? Yes. There is an option that completely disables romance for the entire game. There will also be extra content that you only get if you disabled romance, plus you'll get more screen time with non-romanceable characters, so you won't miss out on the story. 

Will I be able to romance several characters at the same time? There will be one poly route, but other than that, you will get a choice around the end of Chapter 4 that will lock you into a romance route for the rest of the game. The pre-requirement will be only that you have to have at least 2 romance points with your chosen character. 

Who will be in the poly route? Zaia and Ahmose. 

What are the age restrictions for the romance routes? Narmer and Qenna will gently reject a character who is 18-20 years old and is trying to romance them.

Ahmose on default cannot be romanced by a character who is older than 30, therefore, the poly route is also unavailable.

Why can't I romance XY with an 18 year old character? Because this is not a Young Adult novel. Some of the ROs are older and they simply aren't romantically interested in such a young main character. 

Why can I even choose "late teen" for my character if I can't romance all of the ROs with it? Because one of the ROs is 18, so I wanted to give you a chance to play a main character of the same age. 

Why didn't you answer the message I sent you? Probably because I didn't get to it yet. I don't spend much time on social media, and it sometimes takes time to get through my inbox. I also prefer to add something meaningful in my answers, and if you send a lovely message but no specifics, I will cherish the message but I may not answer it.

If weeks have passed and I still haven't answered your ask, then it could be because the message was too vague, or too weird, or the question has been answered many times before, or it was rude and got deleted/blocked.

Will there be a goose DLC? Maybe.

[apricustar]

emo anon again. I agree with absolutely everything you said (because, as per usual, you are right about everything). Yes, Eddie bringing Chris and Pepa to Buck WAS claiming him as family, as part of the Diaz unit. Yes, coming to the scene wasn’t just FOMO, it was another come to Jesus moment, like in S5. Except all of that gets undone in a single moment, where Eddie is tying to book a red eye to El Paso, still intent on leaving, with absolutely no explanation! Literally, everything could’ve stayed exactly the same and just remove that one moment and I would be okay where we are with Eddie and Buck and the show in general. But including that moment makes me feel like all the lovely stuff that came before, the touching (and telling) gestures, actually mean nothing to Eddie, or certainly not as much as we want them to mean. And I just don’t get it! It makes no sense from a writing perspective, from a character perspective. It’s not just Eddie being unwilling to examine his motivations or feelings, as per usual. It’s the show itself being unwilling to examine him closer, using El Paso and Eddie himself as nothing more weak catalyst for Chimney’s captain speech. In one moment, one line, all the good will of Eddie’s previous gestures, all the things tying Buck to Eddie and a family and a place for them both to belong are completely undone. And for Eddie it could mean so many things, but for Buck, it just leaves him completely adrift again. And I’m just so sad about it. And unless the show follows through and examines it later and shows how awfully it reflects on Buck’s place in Eddie’s life, I don’t get the point. And we know they’re never going to do that, so… I’m so sorry, this is a whole lot of negativity you didn’t ask for. You do not at all have to publish this or answer it, obviously. Sorry for bothering you. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and metas and love for Buck with all of us

hi emo anon! <3 first, never apologize for sending me an ask. this goes for everyone: you all are always welcome to come into my inbox. it makes me incredibly happy receiving asks, especially ones like this that open up a conversation—i love talking to you guys! it is not a bother. you are not a bother.

now, onto your message. this hit me really hard. and you're absolutely not being too negative—you're grieving what we almost had. and that?? makes total sense. like you said, eddie did bring chris and pepa to buck. he did show up when it counted. those weren't nothing gestures—they were deliberate, intimate, and full of quiet meaning. they said, in the way eddie so often does through his actions, that buck belongs to him—to the diazes.

and then we get him packing and looking at flights. i know exactly what you mean when you say it made everything before feel like it suddenly meant less—not because it wasn't real, but because the show refused to treat it like it was. there was no follow-through, no real moment of allowing the weight of these actions to sit. it was like the show got right up to the edge of something raw and important—and then turned away. and that hurts. not just because it muddles eddie’s arc, but because it leaves buck once again in that liminal space: almost-chosen, almost-kept, not quite allowed to believe he’s home.

but i want to say this, too, because it’s been helping me hold the ache: those gestures still happened. eddie brought his people to buck. pepa spoke to him with warmth that’s only born of history. chris looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. none of that disappears, even if the writers didn’t stay with it long enough to let it bloom. meaning still lives in the moments. they were real, even if they weren’t followed up the way they deserved to be.

and we can hope in s9 we get more. but if not, there is always ao3!!! HAHAH

i feel you, nonnie. you aren't alone. thank you for sharing your thoughts with me<3

[isabella-2025]

Don't mess with Summer.

Pair: The USOS X Summer (Triplet) X Roman (Platonic) and Carmelo Hayes X summer (Romantic)

Plot: When Summer finds out her boyfriend Carmelo is cheating on her he is desperate to get her back but her brothers and Roman will always be there to protect her no matter what.

Requested by the lovely @amazinggirlsstuff I hope you enjoy. This is the first time I have written for Carmelo so I'm sorry if it is not the best. Feedback is appreciated by everyone.😊

A/N: I love Kalani no hate to her I just had to have a villain, and she just fit since she is Carmelo's real-life girlfriend. I absolutely love her in the ring, and I cannot wait until she is on the main roster. Also, I am taking requests so if anyone has a request, I will be happy to write it for you just message me or inbox it. Thank you, guys, so much. ❤️

Summer is the USOS twins and Romans cousin. Summer still lives with Jimmy and Jey because they are helping train her. Now summer has been in a relationship with Carmelo Hayes for three years and everything has been great he has been a true gentlemen to her. Summer just got done training when her phone went off Carmelo was calling she answered.

" Hey baby how are you, you still in Florida for the show."

" Yeah I am baby I just wanted to see what my baby girl was doing." Carmelo says.

" Oh, I just got done training with the brothers and Roman it was really intense but I needed it." She says while wiping sweat off of her face with a towel.

" Huh that's good babe but are you sure you really want to do this whole wrestling thing?" Carmelo asks

" Baby how many times do I have to tell you its in my damn blood and I am going to do it. Why are you so against this." She asks getting frustrated

" I'm not saying you can't do it I'm just saying you know what it does to relationship's I mean look at Jey's situation…." Carmelo starts to say but she cuts him off.

" Do not talk about my brothers situation you know nothing about that and me and you are locked in so I don't see a problem."

" Look if we are going to argue about this I am just going to hang up the phone." Carmelo says

" Baby…" Summer starts to say but Carmelo hangs up on her.

She slams the phone down just as her brothers walk in. Jey sits on one side of her and jimmy sits on the other side. Jimmy says

" what did he do now."

Summer runs her hands through her hair and says

" He just keeps asking if I'm sure I want to do this whole wrestling thing its like he doesn't believe in me."

" don't let that Nimrud get to you sis you got it your killer in the ring and on the mic in fact we have a surprise for you." Jey says

Summer looks between Jimmy and Jey as Roman walks in with an envelope which he hands to her.

Summer notices Jimmy and jey smirking while roman is just smiling.

She slowly opens the envelope and see's that it is a contract for NXT Shawn Michaels specifically asked for her to join the roster because he see's great potential in her. Summer drops the envelope and screams.

" AHHHH NO FUCKING WAY."

Roman smiles hugs her and says

" YES FUCKING WAY we tried to tell you, you had that star power girl."

Jimmy and Jey wrap their arms around summer and say

" Well, sister better start packing we going to Florida."

Summer immediately runs upstairs to start packing.

The next morning Summer, Jey, Jimmy and Roman get up around 6 in the morning to take the flight from San Francisco to Florida. They are in the lobby of the airport Summer pulls out her phone and calls Carmelo the phone rings he answers and says

" Morning why are you calling so early?"

" Morning well I am on the way to the Florida with the twins and Roman I got some good news yesterday do you wanna know what it is?" Summer asks

" Of course I wanna know baby." Carmelo says

" Well I am officially….."Summer starts to say but a noise at the other end of the phone stops her.

It was a loud female voice moaning " MMMMM BABY."

Summer immediately turns pale when Carmelo says

" Hey baby I'm sorry I need to go I'll see you when you land my room number is 69 at Marriot I love you."

Summer starts to answer but again he hangs up the phone. Summer clutches her phone to her chest and silently prays that what she heard was just a figment of her imagination. She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't hear the intercom calling for their flight. Roman walked over to her tapped her on the shoulder and says

" Sister we got to go girl."

Summer turns around and starts to walk to the boarding area when Roman gently grabs her wrist and says

" You have that look what happened was it Carmelo again?"

" um yeah I told him I was coming to Florida and that it was good news but I heard something over the phone." Summer says

Roman stops walking looks down at her and says .

" What did you hear?"

" Nothing really I just thought I heard someone else in the room but I was probably hearing things." Summer says warily.

Roman is about to speak when Jey and Jimmy yell and tell them they are boarding.

Roman and Summer board the plane with the twins. The twins sleep soundly not knowing anything is wrong. Roman keeps glancing at Summer silently making sure she is okay and summer just stares out the window wondering what will await her in Florida.

They arrived in Florida 2 hours ago after a cat nap everyone was just sitting in summers hotel room talking. Summer excuses herself and says

" I will be right back okay."

They all nod at you but Once you are out of site Roman turns to the twins and says

" I need to tell you guys something about your sis."

Jimmy and Jey look at Roman curiously and say

" What is it?"

Roman places his hands om his knees leans forward and said

" It's about her and Carmelo."

" Okay what about it?" Jey asks

" Well you know how yesterday she said Carmelo was asking if she really wanted to do this wrestling thing?" roman says

" Yeah we do why?" Jimmy asks curiously.

" Well he also said something about how this business ruins relationships but this morning Summer called him to tell him about the contract and she heard a female on the phone with Carmelo." Roman says

" WHAT." The twins say at the same time.

" she thinks she's hearing things but honestly i have heard that Carmelo is with Kalani." Roman says

" If that asshole did that to her I swear to God." Jimmy snarls

" Do you think that's where she went?" Jey asks

" Yeah I think so." Roman says

" LETS GO." they all say simultaneously they head out to find Summer.

Summer walked down the hallway to room 69. She stood at the door for a moment took a deep breath and knocked but there was no answer. That is when she noticed that the door was propped open she shouldn't have went in the room but she did. She walked in and saw Carmelo on top of Kalani fucking her, a women he said he was just friends with. Summer without thinking yelled.

"WHAT THE FUCK."

Carmelo freezes and looks at summer wide eyed while Kalani moves off of the bed and quickly puts her clothes back on. Carmelo throws his clothes on and says

" B a a b y your here hi."

summer smirks and says

What the fuck is this shit huh."

Carmelo scratches his head and says

" Well um I um was lonely."

" LONELY really I gave you everything and this is what you do to me." Summer screams

" Look I just needed some company you've been so busy training you haven't had time for me." Carmelo says

" So you go fuck Kalani to fix that." Summer says

" Yes I fucking did okay and I don't regret it." Carmelo smirks walking towards summer.

" so we're done?" Summer asks

" Yeah bitch you and him are done oh and from what I've seen you are shit in the ring." Kalani says as she holds Carmelo's arm.

Summer goes to defend herself but Carmelo grabs her by the arm pulls her outside pushes her up against the wall and snarls.

" Yeah you suck in the ring and in bed the only reason you got that little contract was because of your family name if you didn't have the a naoi name you would be sucking some for a contract you pathetic bitch."

Carmelo's grip on her arm tightens he gets directly in her face and says

" You know I should just kick your ass right now send you back to your brothers show them how weak you are."

Summer tries to scream but Carmelo places his hand over her mouth preventing her from doing so. Summer looked around the corner and see's Roman and her brothers coming.

Roman Jimmy and Jey have walked around for about thirty minutes trying to find summer they turn a corner and what they see makes them see red. Roman is the first to move. He grabs Carmelo by the back of the neck and throws him to the ground. Jimmy joins in and grabs him by the shirt collar and snarls

" You think that's funny putting your hands on my sister huh."

Jimmy punches Carmelo hard over and over again.

Roman goes over to Summer, gently wraps his arms around her and says

" Hey summer are you okay?"

" I will be now that you guys are here." Summer croaks out which causes Roman to hold her tighter.

A few inches away Jey is now beating on Carmelo he snarls

" You think its funny to cheat on my sister (PUNCH) call her a bitch (PUNCH) basically call her a slut (PUNCH) and put your hands on her (PUNCH).

By the time Jey and jimmy are finished beating Carmelo his face is bloody and unrecognizable.

The twins walk over to Summer who is still being held by Roman and they say

" Sis you don't have to worry about him anymore."

Summer smiles stands up and brings jimmy, Jey and roman in for a group hug they each give her a little kiss on the forehead.

The group begins to walk away but Kalani ran out to attend to Carmelo and she screams.

" you bastards I will get you."

summer turns to the twins and roman smirks and says

" I'll be right back."

Summer casually walks over to Kalani and before Kalani even realizes what's happening Summer gives her a stiff superkick grabs her by the hair smirks and says

" Who's the bitch now."

Summer walks back over to the twins and roman they smirk and give her a high five they all wrap their arms around each other and walk back to the hotel room feeling happy with the justice they just dealt.

The End.

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99

[posttexasstressdisorder]

WE HAVE MORE POWER THAN TRUMP WANTS US TO BELIEVE!

By Marc Elias' Democracy Docket

The messages have been loud and clear: You are worried about the future. You are frustrated that more is not being done. We are all angry that so few will stand up and fight.

I became acutely aware of the strength of these emotions when it was recently revealed by 60 Minutes that I was — in the program’s words — “the only lawyer the president has named who was willing to appear” on its broadcast about Trump’s targeting of lawyers and law firms for retribution.

Just like Marc, Democracy Docket doesn’t pull punches when it comes to reporting the truth about democracy. Support independent, pro-democracy media by upgrading to premium today and receive more action items like this in your inbox so we can all stay in the fight together.

After it aired on Sunday, my inbox and phone were flooded with messages from friends, others in the pro-democracy community, and even some Big Law partners. 

Many were outraged by the firms’ complicity. Others were perplexed that lawyers would be so cowardly and hesitant to stand up for the rule of law. Some understood why so many are so fearful. But mostly, people were inspired by the need to stand up to Trump and asked me what part they can play. 

Here’s my response: 

Trump wants us to believe he is all-powerful. He wants us to believe that opposing him is futile or worse. He wants you to accept that there’s nothing you can do to limit his ability to harm our country and our democracy. But that simply isn’t true.

In truth, Trump is quite weak and afraid.

His greatest weakness is elections. He fears their outcome. That’s why he issued an illegal and unconstitutional executive order to try to seize control of them.

There are things every one of us can do in our daily lives to help ensure free and fair elections — and, in doing so, limit Trump’s power. Some actions are small — so small that you might dismiss them as unimportant. Don’t. Every important journey begins with a single step, and the first is no less important than the last.

It’s also true that some actions are much bigger — so big you might doubt your ability to achieve them. Don’t give up before you start. Have faith that you can accomplish great things if you set your mind to it.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers or a comprehensive list of every way we can defend our elections or our democracy. Like you, I’m just one person doing my best to navigate a dangerous time in our country’s history. Yes, I’m a lawyer, but right now, my most important role is that of an active citizen.

So, here is a list I recently sent to premium members of what each of us can do to stand up for democracy and defend our elections. Democracy Docket is dropping the paywall and publishing it because we must all feel the power we have to stand up to Trump and protect our democracy.

Democracy won’t defend itself. Our journalists follow stories wherever they lead so that we all know when and where our action is needed. Help fund our growing newsroom with a premium subscription today. UPGRADE FOR $10/MONTH OR $120/YEAR

1. Educate Yourself

Elections can be complicated. The rules vary from state to state — and sometimes even from county to county. These rules also change frequently due to new laws, policies or court rulings. My first recommendation: spend time each month learning what’s happening with voting laws in your state and nationally.

2. Share What You Learn

Once you’ve figured out what’s going on, share that information with your networks and community. It might feel awkward to bring up voter suppression or changes in election laws when we’re not in the middle of a major election — but local elections happen in off years, and special elections are more common than you think. Now is the perfect time to start conversations about voting.

3. Run for Something

I told you some of these would be big steps — and this is one of them. But that doesn’t mean it’s too big to take. Look around your community, and you’ll see many local elected positions that need good, qualified people. These could be town or county roles — some of them even directly related to elections, like election judges or county clerks. A great place to start is the organization Run for Something, which offers invaluable resources.

4. Volunteer for a Campaign

Not ready to be a candidate? Volunteer for a campaign or your local party committee. Every campaign needs volunteers, and there’s no better way to support free and fair elections than by working for a pro-democracy candidate.

5. Join or Support Pro-Democracy Organizations

Is partisan politics not for you? There are numerous nonprofits and grassroots organizations working every day to protect voting rights and ensure free and fair elections. Supporting these groups with your time or resources helps these groups do their work.

6. Become a Trained Poll Worker

Many counties face a shortage of poll workers, especially during election season. Being a poll worker requires dedication, attention to detail and a willingness to be trained. It’s a meaningful way to serve your community and help protect the integrity of the voting process.

7. Engage Your Elected Officials

Call and write your elected officials at the federal, state and local levels. Tell them that protecting voting rights and ensuring free and fair elections are your top priorities. Even better, show up at public meetings. Ask them directly what they’re doing to combat voter suppression. Be informed about pending legislation and urge them to support pro-democracy initiatives. This applies no matter where you live or who represents you — Democrat or Republican. Constituent pressure always matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

8. Vote in Every Election

Yes — every election. That means local elections, primary elections and special elections. Become a super-voter. The more you vote, the more informed and engaged you become. You’ll also be better positioned to notice and report problems — like changes to polling locations or voting equipment — that could impact turnout or accessibility.

9. Stay Engaged

Trump is counting on you to give up. He assumes you’ll take action for a few months, or maybe even a year, and then move on. Don’t let that happen. To protect democracy, we all must stay engaged day in and day out. We can’t just show up right before an election and tune out afterward. If we remain committed, democracy will win.

10. Support Independent, Pro-Democracy Media

I couldn’t end without mentioning this. A healthy democracy depends on a well-informed public. Support independent, pro-democracy media by subscribing to and supporting outlets like Democracy Docket and sharing its content online and in real life. BECOME A MEMBER

We also understand that not everyone is able to make this commitment, which is why our free daily and weekly newsletters aren’t going anywhere!

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[my-castles-crumbling]

Good morning! Or afternoon! Or evening! Or night! I have a question

Do you ever get bothered/annoyed with any anons? Or is there a thing that sometimes people do when sending you asks that irks you on occasion?

I really just want to make sure I don’t do anything that might bother you. You already take care of and show kindness to SO many of us

thank you!!

Hi!

This is a good question! And the answer is yes and no lol.

Like the questions people ask usually don't annoy me because I can understand that people just want help.

I think the only thing that bothers me is when people break my boundaries. I feel like I've been pretty clear about them in the past and I also have them on my pinned post. So when I have people like...asking me about certain topics that make me uncomfortable (sex, mostly) or coming into my inbox and threatening to unalive themselves, it's hard.....

And like, it's okay to say you have SI or that you SH, and I'm fine talking about that, I want to be there for people.. but when people send me notes when they are actively in crisis, saying they're going to hurt themselves if I 'don't respond asap', like basically blaming me for it....it makes me very uncomfortable because I am not a professional and I am not on my blog all the time. It makes it so things cross from just me trying to help people talk through things to an issue of things being parasocial. I only am on here once or twice a day, and I unfortunately can't be there for everyone all the time. That's why I have a link to hotlines on my pinned post. Honestly, that's the only thing that's made me consider stopping with the asks altogether, because when I get those messages it affects my mental health and, without getting into my own past, it's a bit triggering.

I also get annoyed when people send asks and then send another one asking why I haven't responded yet when it's been like...a day. Yes, my asks do get lost, but give me a few days to respond before you assume I lost it.

But...I never get annoyed about like...the situations people are going through or the things they're worried/upset about. like I never think things are stupid or trivial. Like a lot of people are like "sorry for writing again" or "sorry this is so long" and they really don't have to apologize for that. I don't mind at all!

Oh also I don't get annoyed when people send messages being like "you forgot to tag this anon" or "you put the wrong date on this" or anything like that. It's very helpful and I appreciate it!

But yeah, for the record, most people don't do the annoying things. It's like one out of every fifty messages. And at this point, to be honest, unless it seems like an honest mistake, or the person genuinely doesn't seem to be sure about it, I delete most of those messages, or still respond to them in the time I normally would, even if the person is very upset. Which probably sounds super rude, but I have to keep my boundaries in order to do this...

I hope that all makes sense?

[putschki1969]

Hello Sarah,

First of all, thank you for the insight on the matter. I know you are super busy and not in the perfect mood (trust me I'm not doing any better) considering what happened, so I leave it up to you if you want to post this or not as it may be abit too dark of a message.

I know these past couple of days have been disheartening and disappointing, especially when you feel powerless to do something right now other than support the girls.

Part of me was thinking, "Why we the fans don't do something about it?", like signing a petition with a respectful message towards Yuki to reconsider, and for the future FJ/YKL events (since this year has already been decided) to include Keiko (and Hikaru, Wakana if possible) again.

However, I'm also thinking that this may add fuel to the fire and maybe it's something that the girls and Keiko foremost would not want us to do, considering how subtle and professional she was in her statement.

I'm not gonna lie that with all this s...show, makes me worry about Keiko's wellbeing.

Seeing 20 years worth of work thrown out of the window from someone who you have utmost respect and getting the silent treatment from people you have long friendships it's a tough pill to swallow.

Considering what we have seen with other Japanese celebrities over the years, it's a thought that gives me shudders.

Now, we never know what is going on behind the scenes, and I pray that the connections are still there.

Apologies if my message got a bit dark there, but some tend to forget that we're dealing with human beings.

Hopefully, we will have some good news in the near future to turn things around. We really need a breather after all this. For every low, there's a high as they say! 🙏

Hi there!

Thank you for being so considerate. I am in fact having a very hard time right now. Questions are piling up in my inbox and every post inspires a new wave of replies. It's a uphill battle for sure. But don't worry, it's mostly my fault for feeling too overwhelmed and not knowing when to stop🙃. I want to try my best to clarify the situation as best as possible and to answer any open question. I also feel the need to explain myself if things didn't come across properly. Oh well, in short, I am happy to reply to your ask even if it's a tricky topic.

Hmm, yeah, I don't think petitions directed at creators or artists are ever a good idea. I'm actually strictly against them. Even if we hate the current developments, we have ultimately no choice but to respect those decisions or move on to another fandom that brings us more joy. Of course we can be critical and question all the things that are happening but we should always do it in a contained space, in our own little fandom corner, far away from any of the involved parties. With a delicate matter such as this, it would probably cause more harm than good to publicly express our dissatisfaction and make demands. Everything in this feud boils down to keeping your head low, avoiding confrontation, being quiet and not disclosing any valuable information.

And yes, as you say, based on Keiko's comment, she would definitely not want us to do anything drastic that would draw attention to us. and could potentially make Yuki look bad. She has taken this decision in stride so as her fans, we should probably be able to do so as well. It's gonna take a little while longer but that's basically what I'm working towards. Just have to get rid of some of my bitterness.

Keiko is strong, I think we don't have to worry about her. She has stayed true to her word in her last Yodel message and gone back to her regular routine as if nothing happened. Like always, she has been wishing us a good morning with a funny emoji, she has given us glimpses into her work day and made sure to emphasise how much fun she's been having (probably to give us some peace of mind). Yesterday, she apparently had a super fun photo shoot. Many of the photos will be useless because of her cracking up and laughing like crazy [She didn't specify but I think this might have been for a new calendar? I wouldn't know what other things she would do a photo shoot for. Maybe the Undokai festival will have a pamphlet or something? I don't know.] Today was filled with lots of meetings [Once again, no idea what for but I'm kinda hopeful it was Kalafina related since Hikaru's tweet about starting "another task" for the day - implying that she had been doing something else before - came around the same time as Keiko's message on Yodel, saying that she was done with interviews for the day] . She got home pretty late but apparently she had a blast and time went by super quickly. She treated herself to some chocolate and sent an adorable picture. I cannot possibly gatekeep this precious photo so here you go!

For my part, I am confident that none of their connections are severed. It's a rough patch for sure and what is being conveyed to he public seems very harsh. But there's so much more going on behind the scenes. I wish there wouldn't be so many missing puzzle pieces but that's just something we have to live with. Do you remember when everyone believed that the connection with Wakana was lost? None of that was true. And I never believed it to be true. I always had faith and I shall continue to have faith.

Yes, let's stay positive!! Hikaru herself just recently said that life balances itself out, good things will follow for sure.