#EREH <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[deepsixsquid]

dehctilg eb thgim emag ym kniht I ?kniht uoy od tahW

[sunflower-daisyfields]

I rly need someone to make a pirate!eren x reader fanfic where eren is like rly feared and like the best pirate idk. It's practically js the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie but insted y/n is a cleaning maid on a ship that eren and his crew attacked but then eren keeps Y/n alive because he wants her as his privte maid or smth idk much abt pirates but then (smutty part) and then eren sets Y/n free and Y/n ends up getting pregnant with eren's kid and like after the baby is born (arround 3 months or smth) eren attack the place where Y/n is not knowing that she is there and like jean or someone finds her and brings her to eren and long story short eren likes the kid and is compleatly love struck yadda yadda and they raise the kid on the ship and Y/n stays with eren but he doesn't rly pirate anymore and kinda js live a nice life on the sea. The kid is such a daddys girl/boy. we all know pirate eren has the hobo ereh look.

[sensacionn]

Last song: lol Crying Out - Shinedown, I was having a teenage me moment

Last book: currently Witch in Darkness - Kelly-Ann Maddox, last finished was Trolldom - Johannes Gårdbäck

Last movie: Zombie Nightmare (1987) so fun

Last TV show: Desperate Housewives

Sweet/spicy/savory: savoury always

Relationship status: I'm dating myself

Last thing googled: PMDD lol

Current obsession: Animal Crossing, patchouli & doowop

Looking forward to: a nice early night tonight & the noodles I'm about to go eat

Tagged by @ereh-emanresu-tresni, tagging @ravingvisionary, @therealmimilove, @freshdanks, @phoenix----rising, @definitionoffuckup, @theroseeatsribs, @s-h-y-y-a-n-n-e, @g0thcind3rella, @oceans-sand-trees, @taletreader

Thank you for tagging me lovely fish c: <3

[clumsiestgiantess]

Y’all remember when I asked you to choose which way I wanted to take the language barrier story (either a continuation or a prequel)?

Continuing with Ritchie and Mason seemed to be the one people were most interested in, so without further ado…

Part 3 of Takeover Scenario Future!

(part two here) (@goblinunderabridge, @entomolog-t, @microfoxprime, tagging y’all because you were the ones who wanted this to win!)

The first night with Mason was wild.  Once I was certain everyone else had gone to bed — even my sister, who kept checking up on me every twenty minutes — I made us a fort beneath my blankets.  He stared in awe at the covers high above him, grinning at me as if it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.  It was kinda like a sleepover, only he’d be here every night.  I reminded myself to get an actual bed for him later.  Tonight he seemed perfectly content to stay right here with me.  “Wow! S’ti ekil a elohw sucric tnet rednu ereh!  Knaht uoy, niaga, rof lla fo siht.  I yltsenoh t’ndid kniht stnaig derac hguone tuoba su ot evig em gnihtemos yletomer ekil siht.  M’I dalg uoy dnuof em yadretsey.  Neve fi uoy did kaerb ym gel.”

“You’re welcome.. I think?”  I hadn’t understood much of it, but Julie had stuck it to me to learn ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘you’re welcome’ in the survivors’ language.  I asked about learning ‘yes’ and ‘no’, which seemed important, but she shrugged and said that wasn’t really necessary considering nodding or shaking your head could easily replace those words in the basics of communication.  She added that thumbs up or thumbs down could also mean ‘good’ or ‘bad’.  We’d just started learning ‘sorry’ when I was called off to get to bed.

We stayed up a good portion of the night playing Super Smash Bros on my Switch.  Mason refused to sleep until he’d mastered the little controller.  Thankfully the single joycon they give you on the switch was just big enough to be a bit larger than keyboard size to him.  He was decent — clearly he’d played games like this back in his world.  The only thing stopping him from beating me was the fact that he had to use both hands to move the joystick.  I still let him win a few times.  He called me out on it for most of them, though.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I was shaken awake by Mason.  He gestured around to the bed then to himself and I eventually realized he was asking for his own place to sleep.  Nodding tiredly, I helped him down off the bed to the floor.  He only needed a single pillow as a mattress and a small blanket as a whole comforter.  I’d just put away all my gaming stuff and slid into bed when he spoke.  “Ritchie?”  It was strange hearing him speak my name.  So much of what he said I didn’t understand.  

“Yeah?”  “Tha.. Thank…  Knaht uoy.”  Well, at least he was trying.  I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for, either.  Maybe everything.  “Re- Re’uoy emoclew.”  Damn those contractions are hard to pronounce.  I peered over the edge of the bed at him.  He was sitting up on the pillow, grinning at me from below.  “Goodnight!” I called quietly, settling back into my bed.  “Thgindoog!”

Groggily sliding out of the covers the following morning, I nearly gave myself a heart attack.  I’d missed stepping on Mason by a mere few inches.  Thankfully, he was still asleep and hadn’t noticed.  Just as I returned from the bathroom, my mom hurriedly opened the door to my room.  I yelped, quickly coming up to the entrance to block her view of the little bed on the floor, and the small person sleeping soundly in it.  “H-Hey, Mom!  Why are you up so early?”  “What do you mean?” she asked me, “I have to drive you to school in twenty minutes!  I came to see if you were ready for breakfast.”  Her confusion turned to stern exasperation.  “Ritchie, don’t tell me you forgot.  You have six weeks of summer school, young man!  You better get up and get ready!”  “Alright, ok!  I’m up!  I’m getting ready!”  She sighed and closed my bedroom door.

Up until then, I’d forgotten about summer school.  Probably because it sucks.  At least it’s shorter than normal school.  I hurriedly readied myself in my room, stuffing things haphazardly into my backpack.  As I sat on the edge of my bed to yank on my socks, Mason stumbled blearily into the space, still half asleep.  “Tahw…  S’tahw gniog no?  Yhw era uoy pu os ylrae, edud?”

He grumbled something at me, then yawned.  “I have to go to stupid summer school,” I told him with a groan.  Mason stepped back slightly, giving me a slightly hurt look as if I’d grumbled at him.  I held up a hand, “No, no I’m not angry at you!  I’m angry at school, see?”  I picked up my backpack and placed it in front of me, zipping up the pocket I’d been stuffing things into.

Immediately upon seeing my backpack, Mason’s eyes dulled.  A knowing, almost disgusted look spread onto his face.  “Yeah,” I sighed unhappily, “school.”  Mason waved a hand at me dismissively and turned to go back to sleep, but froze in his tracks before he could reach the pillow.  Whirling back around, he ran across the room to me, excitedly talking nonstop.  “Woah!  Slow down!  I only know like.. five words in your language!  And you’re talking so fast I wouldn’t understand a single one!”

He stopped next to my backpack and yanked the zipper back open, pointing to himself then to the open bag.  “You’re kidding…  Why would you willingly go to school?”  Just like I’d been taught a few things by Julie, Elenor had also taught Mason several words in English.  ‘Why’ was one of them.  Mason stammered a moment.  “I tsuj.. tnaw ot og htiw uoy.  Ees erom tnaig secalp, I sseug.”  He stammered awkwardly, glancing away from me.  Whatever he just said, I understood ‘you’ and ‘giant’, and the fact that he was suddenly at a loss for words.  I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I didn’t see why he couldn’t come.  It would probably make classes a bit less boring, even if Mason couldn’t exactly get out of my bag without being seen.  “Alright,” I nodded, “Let me just rearrange a few things in-”

“Ritchard?  Are you ready up there?”  I flinched, blood running cold.  “You have ten minutes to be in the car.”  Quickly grabbing Mason, I hastily slid him into my backpack — tucked between my binder and the side of the bag where the zipper was.  He gave me a wide-eyed look as I went to zip it up.  “I’m so sorry, man.  I just- my mom’s gonna kill me if I’m not ready.  Just.. try to make yourself comfortable in there, ok?”  Sliding a more gentle hand in, I settled him more comfortably so nothing was in danger of hurting him and especially his leg.  “Ok, gotta go.  I’ll see you at school, buddy.”

Zipping up my bag, I cautiously slung it over my shoulder and made my way downstairs.  Placing it on a chair at the table, I quickly snatched up some breakfast as my mom warned me again about being late.  While I finished eating, I felt a tug on my sleeve and glanced down.  A little arm had slid out of my bag, trying to get my attention.  It slid back inside once I noticed it, and Mason’s face peered through the gap where his arm had been.  He pointed to the table and mimed biting something.  “Oh yeah!” I whispered, “I can get you breakfast, one sec.”

While my mom went to put on shoes, I grabbed a bagel off the counter and slipped it into my bag beside him.  “All good?”  Mason gave me a thumbs up and I zipped everything up again.  Nothing too extraordinary happened on the way to school, but I made sure to treat my backpack with a bit more caution than I usually would.  With it on my lap, I could feel Mason shifting around inside, still trying to get comfortable.  Guiltily I remembered how hastily I put my things inside it.  Whenever I get to my locker I’ll have to rearrange it for him.

However, I didn’t realize that during summer school, you don’t get a locker.  You just bring your bag right to class — in front of about a dozen people.  I had no choice but to leave him there.  Class went by agonizingly slowly knowing there was someone else hidden right beside me in my backpack.  When lunch came and I headed to the cafeteria, I pretended I’d forgotten something and went back — secretly hoping to check up on the survivor.  But of course teachers just have to eat in their room.  Defeated, I trudged back down the hall to get lunch.  At least I could bring Mason something to eat whenever I returned.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him with me.  His presence was only making me more anxious.  Thankfully, I managed to wrap up some of the school’s meatloaf — which was really just random meats stuffed suspiciously together — and returned to class.  It would probably leave a huge mess in my bag, but at least my secret friend would have something to eat.

Actually, he might not even have that.  Mason was gone.  The zipper to my bag was open wide when I arrived.  I cursed under my breath, carefully rummaging through everything in my backpack.  The only sign of him was a partially-eaten bagel and the little empty place he’d constructed for himself.  Desperately, I wanted to call out to him, but I could only sit quietly at my desk, glancing accusedly at the people around me.  Did someone steal him?  Who would’ve gone through my stuff to find him?!

I dreaded it the whole time, but as the end of the school day arrived and the bell rang, I sat at my seat and attentively watched everyone’s bags and hoodies to see if anything could hint at a survivor stashed away inside.  Once I became the last in the classroom, I began peering around the floor.  “Ritchie, is there something you need help with?”  I jumped as the teacher eyed me confusedly from across the room.  “I- I think I lost something,” I said numbly, “but I can’t find it.”  She let me stay for a bit longer, but eventually even she had to leave, and I was left standing alone in the school.

By then my bus had long left.  I was stranded, but not so much as Mason might be, so I kept searching.  “Mason!” I whisper-yelled through the empty halls, “Where are you?!”  My phone started ringing, making me jump as I slunk around.  I glanced at the caller ID and paled.  It was my sister.  My mother was still at work, but my sister was at home, waiting to see whether I’d come back from school.  “Shit!  I can’t let her know about Mason!  She won’t let him stay with me if she finds out I lost him on the first day!”  

Up ahead, I heard the sounds of a custodian in the next hall and quieted my voice.  I peeked out from the corner, planning to make a quick dash past the hallway’s opening while he wasn’t looking.  He seemed distracted enough, so I angled myself to make a run for it, but froze as a shout echoed down the hall, followed by a loud slam.  A survivor scrambled to their feet and ran for the end of the hallway, followed by the custodian with an empty bucket.  I watched in horror as Mason was roughly scooped up into it.  

With a huff, they walked around to the end of the hallway, and tossed the bucket’s contents outside.  Oh thank god, he’s just letting him out.  I raced away down a different hallway and out the side door.  My side ached by the time I got to the door where Mason had been tossed out of.  He was there!  He was.. helping someone up?  I stopped in my tracks.  Mason helped another survivor to their feet.  This new survivor was the first to spot me watching them, and upon realizing I was there, he started screaming — dashing away into a nearby bush and tugging Mason along.

“Wait!  Mason!” I yelped, rushing forward.  The survivor skidded to a halt, letting the other continue hiding.  “Ritchie!”  I fell to my knees at the sound of the relief in his voice.  He ran up to me, scrambling up my bent legs like a ramp before hugging my chest tightly.  In that way, I could feel both of our heartbeats pounding in our chests.  We sat together like that for a while before my phone rang again, startling us both.  Mason stood practically glued to my side as I hesitantly picked up the call.  

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, RITCHIE?!  I KNOW YOU TOOK MASON BECAUSE HE’S DEFINITELY NOT HERE!”  Oh.  “YOU BETTER NOT HAVE GOTTEN HIM KILLED!”  “N-No!  He’s fine!  He’s right here!  He wanted to come to school with me!”  “He wanted to, or you wanted him to?” she asked.  “He wanted to!  You can ask him yourself!”  “Mhm,” she grumbled disbelievingly.

“Anyway, can you come pick me up?  I’m still at school; I missed the bus.”  A groan rumbled out of the speaker.  “Alright, I’m coming.”  The call ended.  I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back down at my survivor friend.  “What happened?” I asked Mason, opening my bag and pointing to the empty spot where he’d sat earlier.  “Where did you go?”  “I was taht yug!” he told me, pointing to the bush where the other survivor was hidden. “Eh saw gnilaets sgniht morf eht moorssalc eht tnemom eht rehcaet deppets yawa, os I-”

Mason stopped, recognizing the growing confusion in my eyes.  I didn’t understand him.  If only I could just, like, watch a video or something and understand his language.  He sighed, also clearly wanting me to understand him as well.  Never in my life have I wanted to actually learn something language-related until now.  It’s.. kinda the reason I’m in summer school in the first place.

Stepping a little ways in front of me, the survivor motioned for me to follow him.  We made our way back to the bushes in the exact opposite way as the day I found him — with him in the lead and me cautiously following.  When I neared the bush, the other survivor whimpered something to Mason.  I could see him cowering deeper and further away from me.  Mason briefly began to speak, then his eyes lit up with an idea.  He raced over to the dirt, broke a small stick off the bush, and began to draw.  

When he was finished, I slowly peered down at it.  The drawing showed a sad little stick figure behind the bars of a cage, then Mason pointed at the other survivor.  “Ohhh,” I realized, him nodding along with me.  “Eh saw dnuof yb a tnaig dik,” he explained, drawing a larger stick figure with a mean face standing beside it.  “Adnik ekil woh uoy dnuof em, tub eht tnaig ohw dnuof mih saw.. a tol esrow.”

I watched as he gently coaxed the other survivor to come out.  He stepped up to the very edge of the bush, but stayed beneath it.  The little guy looked awful — much more like the wild survivors I’d seen before I met Mason.  His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with purpled bags beneath them, and everywhere on him were the telltale signs of either bruises or starvation.  He looked older than us, but I couldn't tell if he was actually older, or if his awful tortured state made him look that way.  It was probably both.

“Wh- Who would do this?” I asked quietly.  Mason rubbed away parts drawing to show the survivor escaping a backpack.  He’d been living in the school since his escape.  But today was the first day of summer school.  He would’ve had to have just escaped today!

Shocked, I looked to Mason as he stopped drawing.  His expression darkened for a moment, then he turned and looked up at me — not with an accusing ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, but a thankful ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, only I hadn’t.  I’d hurt him by frightening him, but I’d never intended to do anything that would make him look like this new survivor.

With a shaking hand he reached for me, leaning more heavily on his good leg.  I gently took his hand and sat him in my other palm.  The new survivor physically flinched at our interaction, as if I were touching him instead.  I brought Mason to my face and scrutinized him for a moment.  “Are you.. thgirla?” I asked, remembering only one of the words I meant to ask him.  He pressed a bit closer to my hand, but nodded.  If I was so horrified by seeing the poor state of the new survivor that I’d previously grown used to seeing, I could only imagine how Mason must’ve felt finding him — how he must’ve felt when the survivor told him that a ‘giant’ my age in my school had done that to him.

He squeezed my finger as if to say he knew I wouldn’t have done that sort of awful thing, then turned to the other survivor.  “Ees?  S’eh a yldneirf eno, I raews!  Eh nac teg su tuo fo ereh ot erehwemos efas!”  “Dna woh gnol evah uoy nwonk mih?”  He seemed to have said something either really smart or really scary because his reply quieted Mason for a moment.  

“I- I t’nevah nwonk mih gnol, tub I wonk s’eh doog!  Sih retsis-”  “Won s’ereht a retsis?”  “Ehs swonk ruo egaugnal!  S’ehs neeb sdneirf htiw a namuh rof sraey!  I t’ndid tsurt siht tnaig ta tsrif rehtie, tub ehs detalsnart rof em; eh sdnatsrednu.. emos sgniht tuoba su.  Eht tnatropmi sgniht!  Dna s’eh gnoig ot nrael erom!”

The two survivors almost sounded like they were arguing, but I think Mason was just trying to explain to the other guy that I wasn’t going to hurt him.  Damn, why did ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ have be part of today’s useful phrases to learn instead of yesterday’s?  After a back and forth that went on for several minutes.  Mason said something decisive.  Moments later, the new survivor begrudgingly slid out from beneath the bush.  

After some half-arguing, he approached me with his head down as if he were being marched to his doom.  I slowly lowered my other hand for him to climb onto.  Tucking Mason against my chest — which he didn’t seem to mind — I was able to keep a steady both hands on him to ensure he would have as comfortable a ride as possible.  Still, the survivor struggled slightly in my grasp — repositioning himself every few seconds while frightfully glancing back at me.

I made it to the pickup line where Julie’s car was already sitting.  A jolt of guilty fear zipped through my chest, but I braced myself for her yelling and headed over.  Sacrificing my hand that held the new survivor’s back, I opened the car door.  Julie was on the verge of yelling at me, but then she realized the survivor in my hands wasn’t Mason.  Then she realized I was carrying two survivors.

“Where did you-?”  “Mason found him in school.  He said that this guy was caged up by another kid.”  Julie gave the new survivor a pitying look — anger rapidly fading from her expression.  “By the state of him, I wouldn’t doubt it.  Come on, get in.”  I deposited both survivors onto the dashboard so I could get my backpack off and my seatbelt on before reaching out and picking them up again.  The new survivor struggled in my grip, but Mason slid down to happily sit on my lap.  He called up to the guy in my hands and his struggles slowly lessened.

“S’tahw ruoy eman?” Julie asked the survivor in his own language.  He turned to her, wide-eyed.  “T- Tahw?” he asked.  She repeated what she said, nodding to him.  “Ym eman.. si Sirhc.”  “Sirhc,” she repeated, “Ll’uoy eb efas htiw su, I esimorp.  Revetahw deneppah ot uoy erofeb, s’ti revo won.”  The survivor stilled in my hand, and stayed fairly quiet for the whole ride back, except for occasional questions he’d ask Mason or Julie.  Again I had that sense of not belonging.  Everyone in the car had either asked or answered questions throughout the drive, while I sat in silence — only able to guess at what was said.

Back at home, Julie took the new survivor off to the kitchen to get him something healthy to eat and drink.  On my way to my room with Mason, she asked me to tell Elenor what was going on.  I poked my head into the seemingly empty room across the hall from mine.  “Elenor?”  The survivor appeared from behind my sister’s bed.  “What is it?” she snapped.  “Julie wanted me to tell you that we found another survivor.  He was in my school escaping from a kid that had caught him.”  She sighed, said something under her breath in her own language, then nodded and waved a hand dismissively at me.

In my own room, I finally put Mason back down.  He stepped out of my hand to the surface of my desk.  I gave him a long look, then sat down tiredly, head resting on my crossed arms.  “I want to know what everyone’s saying,” I told him quietly, “But I barely know any words in your language, and I’m even worse at pronouncing them.”  Mason came and sat down directly in front of my arms, scrutinizing me with concern.  “English,” I tried, pointing to myself, “you?”  I pointed to Mason.  “Hsilgne,” he replied.  “Hs.. ill.. gn-e?” I repeated questioningly.  We spent a while repeating the word for his language back and forth, then Mason eagerly grabbed a pencil and tugged a piece of paper closer.  In his hands, both items looked massive.

He tried to write something, but kept fumbling with the pencil.  “Hold on,” I said, opening a drawer and digging through it.  “I put a pencil through a sharpener for a bit too long…  Aha!”  I pulled out a very used wooden pencil — the tip ground down all the way to the edge of the eraser.  It still looked thick around in Mason’s hands, but it was small enough that he could use it much easier.  Mason wrote down a word in his language, then pointed to the last letter.  Looking up at me, he nodded towards the larger pencil.  “You want me to write?” I asked, picking it up.  He nodded, made room next to his word on the paper, and pointed to its last letter again.

Confused, but intrigued, I wrote the letter he pointed to: ‘h’.  He went down the strange word, pointing to each letter from the end of the word to the beginning.  ‘h’, ‘e’, ‘l’, ‘l’, ‘o’.  Wait.. what?  I looked at the word I wrote then at the one he wrote in his language.  “Hello?” I tried.  “Olleh!” Mason replied happily, pointing to the papers.  “Wow!  Ronele t’nsaw gniyl; ti yllaer si sdrawkcab,” he mused to himself.

Excitedly, I wrote a word in my language, then pointed to the last letter.  Mason immediately got to work copying it down.  Soon we began learning how to properly talk to one another without having to mime everything.  Through the paper, he told me what had happened without me at school while I occasionally repeated larger or important words I wanted to commit to memory.  I learned that Mason had heard the new survivor — his name was Chris — trying to gather some supplies from the room to try to hole up in the school for a while.  He’d escaped whatever awful kid had taken him by breaking out of the plastic lunchbox they’d kept him in — continuing to kick the latch until the cheap plastic snapped open.  

When Mason climbed out of my bag and made his way over to him, Chris had thought he was also escaping.  However, after learning that he’d befriended a ‘giant’, Chris had begged Mason so vehemently to run away, and tried to convince him that he wasn’t safe, that the teacher in the room nearly found them and they both had to run and hide outside the classroom.  From there, Mason had to chase down the other survivor to try to convince him to come with me.  

Of course, they both ended up getting lost.  After the last bell had rung, Mason feared that I’d left him behind.  He’d begun to have second thoughts about chasing Chris when the custodian found them both and kicked them out.  I knew the rest of the story from there.  “Era uoy thgirla?” I asked him after he’d finished relaying what happened.  I’d asked him that before, but I wanted to flaunt my knowledge of his language a bit.  Mason nodded happily, flopping down on my crossed forearms.  

“Haey, m’I tsuj dalg I tog tuo fo ereht dna kcab ot uoy wohemos.  I saw gnitrats ot daerd taht d’I eb gnivil ni eht sehsub niaga…” Despite my efforts to learn, I still couldn’t quite decipher full verbal sentences yet.  Instead, I tried to cheer him up by laying my head back down over my arms, jokingly resting it on top of him.  He laughed loudly, shoving at my chin.  “Yeh!  Pleh! M’I gnieb dehsums!” he yelped.  

The rest of the day passed more easily.  I grudgingly did homework, then went to check up on the other survivor before I got ready for bed.  He’d decided to stay with Julie, which.. fair.  She can actually understand and speak their language.  Apparently, he had a colony of people that he’d been taken from that he wanted to get back to.  Julie had promised him she’d take him early the next day after a safe night’s rest, and ONLY if he agreed to take armfuls of supplies with him to his camp.

Laying down roughly in bed, I snickered as I watched Mason get launched a good five inches into the air.  I didn’t realize it would do that to him until a split second before I hit the mattress.  He shook himself off eagerly and pointed at my Switch laying beside my bed.  I shook my head “Worromot.  I ev- ah ot peels.”  Mason gave me a slightly disappointed look, but nodded, understanding I’d have to get up early again tomorrow.  By the time I was finished getting ready for the following day, Mason was tucked away in his tiny bed, fast asleep.

[onigiri-dorkk]

Hi I'm new to the fandom and not gonna lie for a long time I was confused about why would anyone ship Rivamika because it always seemed like Levi was barely aware of Mikasa and Mikasa hated Levi or disliked him. I started reading the manga last week and I'm honestly surprised by how little changes made a huge different. WIT always made it seem like Mikasa didn't care about anyone other than Ereh and I believe they are the reason why everyone makes fun of Mikasa for being obsessed. I genuinely thought "I love her but she's very ungrateful and rude sometimes, their strongest soldier hurt his ankle when they needed him the most because of her and all she cared about is Ereh" but it's not like that in the manga. She actually feels guilty and responsible which is a great panel to show how character development. A 3 seconds scene would do so much good to Mikasa's character but WIT somehow didn't want to include that scene. Even in S3 it seemed like they would like to keep them apart and don't let them interact even though there was a huge reveal about them. And I think it's not only WIT. Even Isayama himself is almost afraid to let them interact and I'm not talking about shipping here. Imagine finding out that someone experienced the same things as you did, have this weird mysterious power thing going on and that person is your Captain whom you made it clear that you trust and respect now. It's crazy to me that they don't even talk and compare their experiences etc???? Again, it's not even about shipping, it pisse me off because it feels like Mikasa isn't allowed to have anything of her own, the reason why Mikasa ships aren't popular isn't because she's not loved, it's because Isayama, WIT and even Mappa didn't let her have many meaningful interactions. Hell, even with Armin (they are supposed to be a trio) it sometimes feel like they were just hanging out for Eren. Ughhh they could at least let Mikasa have Ackermans for her own. She could interact more with Levi and even with Kenny for a sec. So disappointing :(

Wow!! Anon, welcome to the fandom and thanks for sending this! I never get asks and it’s always exciting 😂 We’re glad you’re here!

The “I didn’t get how people shipped rivamika” thing is common tbh, don’t worry! I was on that train too until I stopped to think about everything implied between the lines—most of it being in the manga, as you said. I know people say things like we ‘grasp at straws’ but there is realistically fantastic depth we can assume from their closeness as comrades alone. The magic of Rivamika as a ship is it takes more deep knowledge of the characters to understand why it WORKS so well. And when you get it, gosh, it’s amazing!

We definitely agree too, that WIT cut such crucial scenes to Mikasa’s character. I will never understand their choices… And I’ll forever grieve it 😭 That scene of self-reflection and guilt over Levi’s injury/absence is important because it’s the first time she finally thought outside of her tunnel vision of Eren. Ultimately, she learns to care about what happens to others as a result of her actions, which quite literally starts with Levi.

I also agree, it seems like Yams started the Ackerman reveal + arc but decided midway not to commit to it or develop it. It explained their strength, but that was it. It’s strange that even in the anime they chose not to explain that Ackerman’s are Titan DNA hybrids. That seems like a crucial piece but I wonder why they didn’t think it was important. Because then the whole “Ackerman’s are immune to x and x” has no narrative proof at all.

I like to think Ackertalk happened behind the scenes. I like reading everyone’s versions of it—but always a shame we never got that in canon. It’s even strange because they both lost their entire families, so finding out you’re from the same people should at least create a sense of bonding or they’d take on a slightly familial role, or SOMETHING. (Though I’m glad it didn’t go that route because people would REALLY think they’re cOuSiNs lol) But it’s just strange Yams introduced these things that ended up really having not much purpose, or none at all. (Don’t get me started on the Azumabito shit)

I still hope and manifest for some sort of Ackerman spin off that explores this. Can you imagine? Levi and Mikasa (the cash cows of AOT, we say!) venturing off post-war to discover more about the Ackerman’s? Or to retrace and find surviving Ackerman’s outside the world?

[bakedbakermom]

Thanks for the tag @cutemothman!

Please come decorate my tree! I have a kitchen full of baked goods for you to pillage afterwards :)

tagging: @trans-gale @wingsformypillow @perpetually-weirdening @tossingmyglossymane @medicaldoctordana @queasybakeovens @c0ldbrains @thatfragilecapricorn30 @storybycorey @ereh-emanresu-tresni @caioia @danascullysjournal @ragnarockz @skelavender

Honestly anyone go ahead, I <3 this season. And I WILL Send you baked goods if you want. Any excuse to make more. (Today's agenda is peppermint bark and pecan pie bars, which will be turned into ice cream tomorrow.)

[utsnail]

- ELATELPIRT -

?/3

YREVARB si gnithgif regnad, gnicaf sraef, dna gninnur sdrawot eht dniw.

dnA tey oot hcum sdael ot hsarb ssensselkcer.

ECNAREVESREP si reven gnivig pu dna gniyrt litnu uoy deeccus.

dnA tey oot hcum sdael ot ssenevissap.

NOITANIMRETED si eht tnatsnoc tiusrup, ot peek gniog, ot thgif ni tahw uoy eveileb.

dnA tey oot hcum sdael ot s’enoyreve esimed.

dnA ot kniht I dluoc lortnoc ti lla.

. . .

I rednow fi eht sniwt wonk mI ereh.

[era404-skib]

Episode 67 part 3: Summary and Extra Facts

•The episode resumes on TCam buzzsawing off his head due to the RSOD the Scientist pulled out. However, TSpeak gets up and tries to hold TCam back.

•TCam, in desperation to evade the light, pushes TSpeak off and stands up, with the movement of the saw slightly hurting TSpeak in the process.

•Scientist increases the intensity of the light but TSpeak lunges forward again, this time with a large knife. He rips the buzzsaw of TCam, to which he uses his remaining arm to punch his head, trying to punch it off.

•Scientist changes the RSOD to a PSOH (Purple Screen of Hypnosis) to weaponize TCam. TSpeak readies a knife onto his head to launch via sound, but GT sends a beam straight into him, knocking him down. Under the influence of the PSOH, TCam begins to stand on TSpeak and attack him.

•The POV picks up 2 rocket launchers and fires at the Scientist's TV. The smoke grabs the Scientists attention for a fleeting second, which was all the Alliance needed.

•A huge knife is shot into the TV, breaking it. TCam stops attacking TSpeak and collapses down onto the ground, presumably unconscious.

•A thunderstorm cloud full of smog appears from where the knife came from, lighting erupting out from it. A voice echoes from it, saying ".ereh eid liiw ouY / You will die here." A large purple blade comes out, and we see the rest of the Upgraded Cinemaman follow with it.

•He advances forward and GT screams while zooming off. The Scientist readies his acid cannons and prepare for battle.

•U-Cinema jabs at the broken TV and speakers with his blade. The Scientist launches all his acid at him, however it has no effect.

•With one final jab, the TV falls off. TTV activates his RSOD and shines it at the Scientist. The Scientist is set on fire by this and is completely stunned.

•TTV stabs through the Scientist's head, and for the finishing blow, sends a lazer out of his core which melts the Scientist's whole head.

•TTV turns to the POV and signals a :3 face.

--

Extra Info:

•DFB has confirmed there will be a part 4.

•I expect TTV will either chase after GT or teleport the 2 injured titans away for repairs.

--

As a HUGE TTV fan, I've had too keep my reaction down this whole post. If you wanna hear my silly rambling for whatever reason, click undef the cut:

EHEHEHEGEIYGJYKGUYIGYVVUKYKKYV HES SO COOL AND BADASS AND SILLY SIMULTANEOUSLY,,, AND HOLY SHIT HE FUCKED UP SCIENTIST SO BAD. AHAHA EAT DIRT YA LITTLE SHIT!!!

AND GT IS GONNA BE AN EASY KILL. IF HE WAS STRONGER THAN TTV HE WOULDVE STAYED AND FOUGHT. MAYBE HE WOULDVE HAD A CHANCE IF HE STAYED WITH SCI BWEHEHE THE LITTLE SHITASS

I am a small bit disappointed with TTV's design though. I thought it would look a bit less like the fanmade versions. @lensman-arms-race also made a great point stating that his TV's look a bit stapled on.

Dont get me wrong though, I'm still super happy!!! I love the little killing machine <33

[ask-sally-face]

:3 ereh dnuora hanging ekil etiuq i .enif eb ll'i kniht i ,he

*sits on the floor*

"I'm glad! Well, that you like it here of course." *I'm Sal Fisher. Or Sally Face."

"I'm Larry! I'm Sal's brother!" *Smiles*

"And I'm Megan!" *Floats to you* "I've been here for a while." *Smiles*

[mobolanz]

Blorbo wrapped 2023: character by month 🤧💞🤭

Saw it around more than once but making my own cuz didn't want to make it in a reblog chain 😅

When it comes to Reiner,,,, a few flavours here and there :3

January: sm rewatch s1 Nephrite

February: sm rewatch s2- Demande

March: part 3 Reiner since part 3 dropped

April: Ereh...

May: HE'S A TRAITOR AND YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!Reiner since I got my sisters into aot around that time 😋

June: token girlie blorbo Himiko Toga

July: vice chief braun 🤭🤭🤭

August: Armored titan (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

September: RTSNER (also true for june when my crocodile tears even though I know he'll survive it made my sisters feel bad about him🤧🤭)

October: do one's own OCS count? Cuz babydoll Evy takes that one 🤧😋

November: 857!Reiner 🤭

December : Found self thinking about jeanbo more than once D:

[liquorisce]

scarf girl & idiot boy

pairing: eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman

rating: t | read on ao3

summary: [Reincarnation AU. crackfic]

Eren is in his final year of high school. He's always been an imaginative kid but now his imagination won't seem to give him a break. As a result of intense flashbacks / dissociative episodes his therapist advises him to keep a journal, to get in touch with his emotions and let them all out.

Except it wasn't his imagination, these were his memories. Why doesn't anybody understand?!

…

“So, what about this girl?”

Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life.

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Day 1 

Mom bought this notebook for me and told me I’m supposed to write in it every day. Journaling, she said. It’s good for you, Eren. It’ll help you sort out all those thoughts in your head. 

That’s what she called it. Thoughts in my head. That’s what she told the doctor the first time she brought me in. My son, you see, he’s a good kid. He’s got a lot of spirit. He’s very intelligent. But. And here was the kicker, there was always a but. He gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes. And then he doesn’t come out. Even if I shake him. I feel like he’s someplace else, you know. 

Well, yes, it turns out the good doctor did know. Or he had some theories, anyway. ADHD was the top favourite, it was an easy one for Mom and Dad to digest. Tons of kids have it. It was one of those disorders that parents could swallow because it didn’t mean their kid didn’t have potential. It was a better alternative than plain delusional, I suppose.

I’d heard it my whole damn life. 

Eren, you’re distracted. 

Eren where’d you go off to? 

Eren. 

Eren. 

Ereh. 

I had one of those short names that people liked to use like punctuation. But nobody said my name right. It’s a peculiar thing, but I was convinced my name wasn’t meant to be pronounced with the full N, it was meant to end on a faint sound, somewhat breathy, somewhat feminine…

Ugh. This is the problem. None of it feels right, because I already know what is right. I’ve experienced it before. It’s in my memories. But nobody understands that. They say I have an active imagination. When I was a kid apparently I had an imaginary friend, too. A blonde wimp named Armin who needed my help to deal with bullies. When I was younger I believed it when Mom gently broke it to me that he wasn’t real, but now I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes when I stand in a group of friends, his sparkling blue eyes and his golden bowl cut feel more real than the faces in front of me.

But this is all I’ve got to figure it out. It’s you and me, motherfucker. So go on and do your Tom Riddle thing where you make sense of things to me, because I’m dying to hear it. 

Day 3 

I forgot to write yesterday because I’m not really good at keeping up with a habit. Or writing for that matter. I’m okay at school essays and like, some short stories I wrote as a kid were decent, but I never really thought of making a hobby out of it. And writing about myself too, why would I do that? I have to spend enough time inside this head of mine feeling absolutely crazy and out of control, I don’t know how writing down what’s in my head is supposed to make it any better. 

But mom yelled at me to journal, so here I am. 

She’s pissy because I turned up today with godawful marks on my french test, ten out of forty scribbled in big red letters. In my defence, I only attempted the first thirteen questions, because my brain kind of froze up mid-test when I got these weird flashes of sitting in a classroom with wooden desks and a crazy brown-haired person with goggles on their head trying to teach us about human-eating monsters. It sounds wild to me even as I write it, but trust me that shit was real. They were big and red and butt-ugly and I’m convinced that I’ve repressed some particularly traumatic memories of them breaking people in half like Twix and popping them in their mouths. I think the feeling of watching something like that never goes away, no matter how many lives you lead. 

I’d like to imagine that if these really are my memories— because sure, I may be a visionary or whatever, but these visions were too clear— I was a badass hero leading the fight against these monsters, and eventually, my side won. Otherwise, what even was the point?  

Day 4

I keep thinking about those fucking monsters. Journalling is doing something to me. It’s making me think about these things more and more. How else do I explain the pit in my stomach that’s refused to go away ever since I finished last night’s journal entry? 

Why can’t I shake the feeling that I was so so wrong about something? What if I wasn’t the hero? Maybe I was just a massive fail and my dwindling grades are like, a mirror to the events of my past life or something.

Day 7 

Whatever, I know I didn’t journal for two days and my last entry was just a pathetic scribble but I needed some time off. My therapist said this was supposed to help me get in touch with emotions not stress me the fuck out and make me never want to confront them again. Anyway, I took the weekend off, and actually spent my time trying to clear my head in more effective ways. Like smoking weed with my friend Maks. 

Mom, if you’re reading this (I know you are, I saw you combing through my journal just yesterday, you’re so obvious) then please for the love of God, don’t get all weird and make passive-aggressive comments when you know already that I smoke. And don’t pretend that you don’t because you totally did. Why else would I eat that much? No teenage boy needs five helpings of your curry no matter how good it is, it’s because of the munchies. Now read further at your own risk, that’s all I’m saying.

So yeah, back to Maks. He always steals weed from his sister Laura, and wades straight into her bag without any concern for her privacy. I don’t know, but I always heard you aren’t meant to be rummaging in a girl’s bag (or anyone’s for that matter), so I just, like, stand outside and make polite conversation with her while he’s flicking her goods. 

I guess that sounds bad, but you get it. Laura’s pretty and to be honest, I think she’s kind of sweet on me. She’s always kinda blushy when I talk to her and there’s no need to be, she’s twenty years old and I know she’s had boyfriends before. But she always gives me way more attention than what her idiot brother’s friend deserves. I’ve thought about asking her out on a date, but it seemed like a lot of effort when all I really wanted to know was if she kisses nice. 

I thought about it a little more today when we were smoking with some of the other guys, on the rooftop of Peter’s part-time job. I couldn’t really discuss it with them openly because I didn’t think honesty was the best policy when it concerned getting into Maks’s sister’s pants, but I wish I could, because I was still a fucking virgin. I wanted to get laid and I think if I asked, Laura might say yes. I just didn’t know how. 

And then I thought about it some more when I came back home and sank into my bed, stoned as fuck. I undid my jeans and opened up pornhub and scrolled through a bunch of thumbnails that all looked so fucking similar. And then, weirdly, I just shut my phone off and stared at the ceiling. 

I think all the dilly-dallying about Laura stems from the fact that I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to fuck Laura. Maybe I was a virgin loser, but I was pretty certain I didn’t have… feelings for her. Like, she was nice and everything, but I didn’t like her. I know what it’s like to like somebody, I think. It’s crazy intense and kind of one-dimensional and a little bit like black hair and pink lips and a dark red scarf.(????)

What the fuck. Did I just write. Where did that even come from.

I’m done with this journalling thing, man. I’m out.  

Day 9 

I’m not happy about this, you know. I just want to be a normal teenage kid who jerks off to porn and maybe sleeps with his friend’s sister so he isn’t a virgin when he goes to college. That’s it. I have simple desires. 

LEAVE ME ALONE SCARF GIRL. 

Day 10

I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish I could think about the human-eating monsters again. At least that was morbidly fascinating. This just gives me a clawing, uncertain sensation in the pit of my stomach and doesn’t let up until my thoughts are filled with some Japanese girl with the prettiest eyes I have ever seen, and a body like I hadn’t even thought of fantasizing about. It’s crazy, I feel obsessed with somebody I haven’t even met. And I know this for sure because I went through all the class photos and I know nobody who looks like that. 

Maybe I should talk to the doc again. I’m definitely delusional. 

Day 11

I saw the doc again. He isn’t convinced that I’m having delusions despite my twenty-minute spiel about the biology of ugly monsters I keep dreaming of. I explained in great detail that they were weird as hell: They had this weird human anatomy but none of the fun bits, and they kept eating humans but they couldn’t digest them for some reason. So they’d keep eating people and then get too full and puke ‘em all out into a disgusting ball of human glump and continue their binge. It was like a bizarre take on the Capitol citizens from the Hunger games. 

At the end of it, all he told me was that I should journal more and referred to me some creative writing workshops at the community college. And this was even before I even could tell him about the insanely beautiful girl with the red scarf that I haven’t stopped daydreaming about for three days now.

After coming home I got a little crazy and had a little meltdown about how nobody was taking me seriously which Dad thought was par for course for a seventeen-year-old, but Mom got a little snivelly. She came to my room later and gave me a hug and asked if I was acting out because I missed my birth parents. I didn’t know how to react to that so I just hugged her back and told her that I haven’t thought about them in years. Although now I wish I knew them a bit better, because maybe then I’d know for sure if I’m delusional or not because psychiatric disorders usually have genetic history. 

The truth is, I don’t remember much about my birth parents. Mom and Dad have taken care of me since I was three, and apart from the fact that I’m a little weirdo in a family of two very normal, high-functioning adults, I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong here.

Mom, I love you even though you never respect my privacy and are currently reading this journal. 

Day 12

I was googling “memories of past lives” and I somehow found myself on the Wikipedia for Hinduism. It’s a religion where people believe in having many lives. Everybody goes through birth, life and death and then rebirth again because this torture isn’t enough the first time apparently.  

Is that what this is? I’m a cat with too many lives, now? 

Day 13 

I thought I’d found religion but I spent one day listening to a guru with 9.6 million Instagram followers and I’m convinced this shit will only make me crazier. 

Anyway, midterms start in three days, and I know more about “samsara” than I do about Kirschoff’s laws, so see you later. 

Day 20

I’ve hidden this stupid diary away and planted a fake where my mom keeps looking. I need my privacy, for fuck’s sake.

I had History today and I swear to God, I almost threw up when it came to answering the final question on the Holocaust (Ten fucking marks!!!). I started writing it, felt nauseous, excused myself to the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, came back only to ask to be excused all over again. Miss Jenny definitely thought I was cheating. She kept hovering over me after I came back, when I was too busy trying not to throw up on her. 

It’s as if, every time I began to write about the Genocide of WWII, I could almost picture the innocents walking to their death. This is not to say that I don’t think what happened was absolutely terrible, but I cannot afford to get emotional during a fucking history exam. 

What’s worse is every time I kept picturing this one boy… this tiny boy with an interesting cap on his head, who looked in my direction with the most puzzling expression. A smile, that then turned into confusion, which then turned into fear. As if I was the one responsible for not only his misery, but that of his entire people. I know it sounds absurd but I really wanted him to know that I felt terrible about what happened. I mean, I had nothing to do with the Holocaust, obviously, but I’m sorry he had to go through it. That anybody had to go through something as terrifying as being persecuted and demonized for something they had no control over. 

I keep thinking about that boy. I wonder what his name was. I wish he could experience the world like I do, now. I wish he could be free too. 

Day 25

I had math today and it was alright, I suppose. I’m not very good at it, so I can’t judge if I’ve done okay or not. I was more interested in History and Civics, Languages that type of thing. Right on my way to a life of making no money. 

While walking back, I tried asking Maks what he thought about the History exam, and more specifically all our tutelage about the Holocaust. 

“What do you mean, how do I feel about it? It’s all bad, obviously, you know that.” 

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Of course it’s bad. But about why it’s bad. Do you ever, just, you know, feel really terrible about it? That so many people thought it wasn’t bad when it was happening?” 

“I mean,” he said. “Not really. Because it’s not really something you have to think about. It’s obviously bad. We’ve been learning how bad it is, ever since we could read our ABCs. Why would I waste my time thinking about something that I already know is terrible? I already know it!”

I couldn’t argue with that logic anymore. I don’t know why I even bothered with Maks, because I already knew not much went on inside his head, but I didn’t have anyone else I could talk to. At times like this, I really miss Armin, the wimpy blonde in my head that I used to hang out with because I knew he would engage in meaningful conversation about this. He’d probably say something smart about propaganda or the power of narrative or something. 

When I was a kid I was convinced that he was the smartest person on the planet (when he wasn’t even on the planet), because he knew all about Volcanoes and the Mariana Trench and the Sahara and all I knew was the Pokemon type chart. I knew it by heart, by the way. I still do. 

I came home and my over-perceptive parents exchanged glances, probably signalling to each other that their kid really was a loser and that there wasn’t much hope. Then Mom hovered over me to an uncomfortable degree, making me want to scream. The thing is, I don’t even know what to tell her. Wasn’t I too old to be discussing feelings with her anyway?? How am I supposed to tell her with a straight face that I was bawling in the toilet after my exam because Ramzi was just a poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time???

… Ramzi. 

Who the fuck is Ramzi?

Day 30 

Exams are over. I went with the boys for burgers after school, and we all hotboxed inside Peter’s car before heading over to the restaurant. 

Maybe it’s the mood I’ve been in for the past couple of weeks, but I’m starting to realise that my friends are idiots. And I don’t mean that in the affectionate sense. Peter wants to go into Investment Banking but can’t pass math. He’ll probably keep working at the Mobile store. 

Maks wants to be a cop. In this neighbourhood. I think the only crime we have around here is bicycle theft and no cop ever helps you get your bike back. You just fork out twenty bucks to buy somebody else’s stolen bike from the shady dudes near the central station. The same ones that lurk in the shadows asking if you want a bike, the same way thugs ask if you want drugs. Bikes are like a community commodity around here. It all goes into the same pool and everybody dips into it. 

Hamza wants to help his dad out at his falafel shop and to be honest, that’s the most honourable thing to come out of the lot of us. If you ask me, it’s the best food in town.

But they’re all just so…!!! They make me want to tear my hair out. They seem so okay with everything. With themselves. With their families. With this silly little town. Nothing will change for them after they finish school, and they’re perfectly content with that.

When I was ranting about this to dad over dinner, he asked me, with his little indulgent smile, “Well then, what do you want to do Eren? How are you going to make your life more significant than your friends?”

I was stumped. The truth is I’ve never really pictured anything beyond this, beyond my teenage years. I’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be an actual adult. Huh. 

Day 31

I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming. My dreams are flashes of people’s faces, blood and large horrifying caricatures of human beings whose faces are stuck in a terrifying smile. It’s 3:23 and I woke up crying because my mind seemed fixated on this one woman who was struggling in the monster’s grasp before she was broken in two and tossed in its mouth. 

And when I woke up, I felt the wisps of a soft feminine voice ask me, “Why are you crying, Eren?” I wanted to reach out and hold on to her, beg her to tell me what was going on. But the more I rubbed the tears from my eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was scarf girl. 

Why? I couldn’t tell you. Once I wake, my dreams slowly begin to lose clarity, fading into the noise of the real world and making me doubt my sanity more than ever. But this time when I woke, I felt the lingering sensation of long tresses brushing my face as somebody loomed over me. The strings of wool from a fluffy red scarf. The voice of somebody I was dying to hear. 

Day 38

Yo. it’s been a while. Lots of things have happened since I last wrote here. 

We had term break and I’ve been working on the Weber’s shed (they’re paying me for the help).  Honestly, the last set of dreams I had really fucked me up, so when Maks asked me to help with sawing wood, hammering things into place and just in general, not think, it sounded like a great plan. 

And if I had to stand in the sun without a shirt on when I knew Laura would be looking, I didn’t mind. Well, actually, I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw her staring out her window, right at me. 

I suppose I could write a whole story about how we had conversations with our eyes and licked lollipop ice candies on her porch together where I saw a little drop of candied water fall onto her chest and in between her cleavage, thereby making me want to lick it off of her skin, etc, but it really wasn’t that poetic. I was shirtless, and she was wearing her tiny warm-weather shorts, lips purple from the ice candies we had just gobbled down, and I guess she just asked me one time why I’d never made a move. I didn’t have an answer for her apart from making a move then and there, and some minutes later we ended up in her bedroom with me on my back and her tits dangling in my face. 

Tl:dr; I slept with Laura. I know it’s something I said I wanted some time ago, but as soon as we were done, I couldn’t separate our bodies fast enough. Brown hair matted across her forehead as she looked at me with expectation in her eyes. I couldn’t even look at her. The general public might crucify me as an asshole, but I just felt weird inside. She kept looking at me the entire time, large, soft brown eyes staring into mine as her hair spread all over me as she rode me. 

I suppose I did alright for a first time; I got off, she orgasmed first so I guess that’s a success. Laura was quite self-sufficient at the whole sex thing, honestly, it was as if she used me to get off and I let her. It all felt like a scam to me, instead of being excited about grabbing my first pair of tits all I could think was that this wasn’t right. There was an unfamiliarity about Laura that unsettled me, and I’m not sure what it was. But every time she scolded me affectionately, or brought my hands to her body to show me what she liked, I felt a little bit nauseous. 

And when she scrambled for the bedsheets after and asked if everything was alright, I had never felt like a bigger fuckup. 

“I thought you enjoyed it,” she said, her voice getting a little bit high and somewhat accusatory. “You came right? I was pretty sure you came.” 

“I did, yeah. It’s not that, Laura, the sex was… you were, I mean, it was all very nice. I just… maybe I don’t feel well. I’m sorry.” (NICE!! God, I’m such a fuckin idiot)

“You seemed pretty well when you stuck your tongue in my mouth and felt me up over my bra.” Every word she said just made me feel worse. 

“Do you have a girlfriend or something?” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose while I struggled with the most obvious, factual answer. But instead, with guilt burning my cheeks, all I said was, “... or something.” 

Day 39

After telling Laura that the sex was “nice,” I’ve been holed up in my room wondering, not for the first time, what the fuck was wrong with me. 

When I went down to have my muesli in the morning, Mom trapped me into a conversation. “You’ve been so dull lately, sweetheart,” she said, with her usual concern. It’s at times like this that I wish she would stop piling on the verbal concern and just bully the doctor into giving me some medication. Surely I could get some good ol’ pills for these hallucinations and I’d be okay. 

Instead, in keeping with my latest tradition of saying things I have not thought through, I blurted out, “Mom, did you always know you were going to be married to Dad?” 

She looked taken aback for a second. “Is that what’s got you down? Love problems? Oh, honey—” 

“Just answer the question, Mom. Don’t psychoanalyse.”  

“Well, not really, Eren. You see, I love your father very much, but I met him only when I was twenty-seven, and I’d had my fair share of experimentation and mistakes by then.” 

I nodded vigorously. See, this was normal. 

“Is there somebody on your mind?” 

I debated telling her for a split second, but my impulsiveness got the better of me. “I suppose there is, yeah.”

“Is it somebody I know?” Mom probed gently. She probably expected a different answer, because she’s been giving these sly smiles wherever Laura was concerned for a while now, so when I said, “Not really,” she blinked at me in surprise. 

“The thing is, even I don’t really know her. Not exactly in the way you would usually know somebody, I mean.” 

She blinked at me some more, looking as confused as I sounded. “There’s this girl,” I told her, my voice dropping down to a whispered mumble, “... this Japanese girl, I think, she keeps showing up in my dreams.” 

“You mean the same dreams as the one with the monsters…?” She asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral. 

If anything, my mother has always listened to me, I’ll give her that. “They’re called titans, apparently.” Crucial information from my last night’s terrors. “And yeah. The same ones. I think. I really do think they’re all set in the same world.” 

The more I listen to myself, the more I feel like I’m describing some kind of fantasy role-playing game. 

“So, what about this girl?”

Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life. 

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Mom was speechless. “I know you think I’m crazy, Mom,” I told her. “But I just. I know it. Inside.” I sounded crazier with every word I said. Mom’s expression grew more pitying by the minute. 

She caressed my hair with a sad sort of affection in her eyes. “You’re really struggling with this, aren’t you, Eren?” 

My shoulders slumped; I felt defeated. I could see that she wasn’t taking me seriously, again. Well, what did I expect? If a seventeen-year-old told his mother that he was dreaming about a girl he didn’t even know, but somehow knew that she was his wife?? Man, even I couldn’t take myself seriously.

Day 41

Aside from being totally mortified, that conversation with Mom did bear fruit. I don’t know what she told the doc, but when I went for my appointment today, I left with an assortment of pills that were supposed to make me “feel better.” 

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t feeling depressed, just crazy, but by this time I’m willing to try anything. So here goes nothing!! 

Day 46

I’ve been taking the pills for five days now, but nothing feels different. The doc says it takes some time for my body to react. I don’t really understand it because I’m usually the impulsive, reactionary type, but okay I guess. When it comes down to it, your brain just runs on a bunch of chemicals and these medicines are supposed to help me balance out the equations. (Doc's words, not mine.)

Today when we walked back from the grocery store, I saw an Asian family loading their trunk with groceries. There was an elderly couple and a woman (I think), who was doing most of the heavy lifting. Mom was grumbling about how chickpea pasta wasn’t a good enough way to boost her protein, but for some reason, that family caught my attention. I found myself craning my neck to get a look at the woman whose back was all I could see (a nice back, if I must say). 

Mom thumped me lightly on the shoulder and asked what the hell I was doing. 

It was kind of embarrassing because I know what it looked like. That I was busy checking out some woman’s ass with my mom right next to me. But it wasn’t that, I promise.

I mumbled an apology. But when we went further Mom suddenly looked at me all funny and was like, “Eren. You shouldn’t fetishize people, you know.” 

Naturally, I was gobsmacked?!??!??? 

Turns out, Mom put two-and-two together; first my “imaginary” (I didn’t like it when she said that, by the way. There was nothing imaginary about this woman. She was real. Our relationship was real.) wife, and then this Asian-looking family. Ridiculous! I did not think today was the day I’d get schooled by my mother about having an Asian fetish!!

Anyway, school starts tomorrow and I’m nervous because we’ll be getting our grades and term papers back. (Blegh)

Day 47

I feel like I’m about to explode. I have so many feelings, holy shit, I’m literally in the middle of class as I write this, I don’t even know where to begin. 

In an effort to start at the beginning, here goes: 

I THINK I’VE FOUND SCARF GIRL. 

AND SHE’S MY FUCKING MATH TEACHER ASLFADFKDSGL

I walked into school expecting the same old boring drivel as every other term, and mostly the morning had implied exactly that. Kris complimented my hair (I’d grown it longer despite my father’s insistence about cutting it, simply because I felt I wasn’t rebelling enough. I was a teenager after all, I’ve to pay my dues.) and it felt nice, because at least something was different.

We had different classes and got back papers in each class, and my eyes glassed over pages and pages of mostly ok answers, but largely silly mistakes, and the big red circle indicating my very average grades. My classmates queued up to the teacher’s desk to try and get a better grade but I didn’t really care much for it.

History, as I predicted was a shitshow thanks to my brain, but I seem to have made up for my earlier performance in French, thanks to a solid hour of concentration in the exam. 

Math was the last class of the day, and predictable Mr Hofferman, our grumbly old Math teacher was late. He was never late. He was one of those annoying teachers who was five minutes early, and would start his lesson as soon as the clock allowed him to, whether the rest of us had even sat down or not.

Ten minutes later— when the class had dissolved into little groups, girls sitting on the desks with their skirts bunched up high, boys chewing gum loudly even though we weren’t allowed to, complaining about how Mr Hofferman was for sure going to fuck all of us up with a ridiculously harsh marking scheme— a lady stumbled in, her hair looking wind-worn, in a pretty pink sweater and grey slacks. “Is this 4B,” she mumbled mostly to herself, craning her neck to see the door and confirm that it was, indeed, 4B. “Right, it is.” And then, in a most unusual turn of events, she set her books down and looked at us straight in the eye, and gave us the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen.

I don’t know about the others, but it took me several moments to recover. 

She gave us a small, shy wave, and a little bow, and introduced herself as Mika Akkerman. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Japanese-German, and after retiring, her father wanted to come back to the little town where he was from. She told us she was very excited to teach us from now on, and in an absolutely adorable accent asked us to “please treat me well.” 

There was such a violent shudder in my heart at that moment, I swear to God that I thought I was going to die. 

After that, she gave the sweetest little laugh, pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “Although, giving you your test results is probably not the best way to start a good relationship.” 

As if I weren’t absolutely decimated by her beauty alone, what I saw at that moment threw me for a loop. 

There was a scar. On her cheek. And a little mole right underneath it.

As I lay stumped in my seat, my mind racing a million miles per hour, trying to even grasp the implications of everything that lay in front of me, Miss Mika took her seat and began to go through our term papers, one by one. She decided she would call us all to the front, to introduce ourselves, so she could more personally explain her assessment. 

“Eren,” she said, when it finally came to my turn, “Jaeger?” 

Idiot that I am, I stayed motionless until Maks ribbed me and said, “Stop spacing out, Jaeger, it’s your turn.” 

But I wasn’t spacing out. I don’t think I was ever more aware, or more present than in that fucking moment. The way she said my name, it finally felt right. Not Erren, Or Erin, Or Erain, But Ereh, kind of with the n a little bit silent, just a little breathy noise from her tiny nose, sounding kind of intimate like she’d spent a lifetime saying my name that way. 

She shook my hand, as she seemed to have done for every student, and fixed me with those gorgeous grey eyes. I was probably trembling like a fucking loser. (This is not how I wanted to reconnect with my wife!!!!)

“You have a nice name,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s interesting that you have styled it in the American way.” 

That’s when I looked down at my paper. I’d signed it Eren “Yeager”. Which I never do, usually. My name is Eren Jäger; we usually understand the umlauts around here. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I told her truthfully. It was the understatement of the year.

She then gave me a polite smile (it was so pretty, I swear, every time she smiles, I feel like a character straight out of a shoujo manga replete with heart eyes), and proceeded to walk me through my math paper. 

I have no fucking clue what she said because all I could think about was that her voice was so nice. And every time she said my name I felt my cheeks grow hot. 

In the end, she looked at me sweetly and said, “Well, don’t be discouraged, Ereh. Math is all about learning a few tricks and then you’ll master it, no doubt.” Which was excellent because now I was certain that I hadn’t left a particularly wonderful impression with my paper. Despite that, it appears my shamelessness reached new heights when she asked me if I had any questions, and all I felt compelled to ask was, “How old are you, exactly?” 

She blinked at me, and then stuttered a nervous laugh. “I always forget how direct everybody is around here. I’m 23.” And then, as if that was the real problem here, she said spiritedly, “But don’t underestimate me! What I lack in experience, I make up for with enthusiasm!” 

Oh boy. I didn’t doubt it. 

Now I’m back in my seat, barely acknowledging my dismal performance both academically and socially. My brain is buzzing restlessly. I can barely pay attention to anything that is being said to me (because, Mikasa wasn’t talking to me, it was mostly just Maks and Peter grumbling about their grades). 

All I can think is… What the fuck? 

I’ve never had a fully clear picture of the woman from my dreams but I know with startling clarity that this is her. I know it with my whole being. I knew it when she walked into class, when I saw her scar, when I heard her speak, when her eyes met mine. It’s like a flash went through my body, when we shook hands. 

This isn’t normal. But does it really matter? 

Because I think I’ve found my wife. 

Day 46 contd 

I have more updates. 

As class ended, Mikasa piled up her books and then embarrassedly mumbled that she was still new here, and that perhaps she would get lost and in a twist of what is surely fate, she called out, “Eren Jaeger, do you think you might be able to help me find my way to the Teacher’s lounge?” 

Of course, I would. I would do anything for her, she just didn’t know it yet. 

As we walked there, I learnt some things about her. She didn’t like silences, she found them awkward. Which was just as well, because after she broke the first one with some polite comment about what a lovely school we had, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My only exposure to Japanese culture is from my interest in anime, and from what little I know, I’m pretty sure she thought I was completely rude and out-of-turn. 

In a span of a few minutes, I asked her how long she’s been in town (just a week), where she came from (Kyoto), and whether she’s already settled (if she needed any help, she could feel free to ask me, you know). I tried my best to get a glimpse of her fingers but couldn’t, but I was pretty sure when we shook hands that I didn’t feel any rings. So she wasn’t married. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a partner. Or a fucking dog, that took up all her attention, I don’t know. 

As I stood near her little desk in the teacher’s lounge as she talked about how different the weather was here compared to Japan, I felt fucking crazy. It’s only been forty-five minutes since I’ve seen her, but I want to know everything about her. I want to know what I’ve missed out on for so many years, and I want to make up for the fact that she was brought into the world five years too early. 

I had this creepy desire to tell her that nothing mattered anymore, because she and I were meant to be together. Eventually, I got out of my head, and as I began to walk her to the school gates, I realised that this was the end of our time together today. She would go home, and probably not think of me for the rest of the evening, while I spent every waking moment (and probably my sleeping ones too) filled with thoughts of her. “Why did you come here, Mikasa?” 

“Ah, like I said, my father was born here and wanted to come back, so—“ 

“But why now? Why to this school? Why did you decide to come with them?”

She stuttered an answer at first, but then slowly her eyes narrowed at me. She watched me silently for a moment before she murmured, “Ereh, I never told you my name was Mikasa.” 

Shit.

“My name is Mika Akkerman. And I’m your teacher,” she said, her voice strained. There was an antsy, faraway look in her eye, as she spoke. “… You should talk to me with respect.” And then she turned around and left.

I ran back home, straight to my room and as I write this, I’m still shaking. 

I don’t know why I called her Mikasa. 

I don’t know why I spoke to her in such a familiar way. 

I don’t know why when I look at her I felt like I’ve been waiting for so long, and that she has finally returned to me.

All I know is that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’ve memorised that face, and I’ve listened to that voice so often, I would know it even as I lay in my grave. I’ve felt that skin against mine before, the same skin that held my hand so firmly today. 

More than anything I knew that this was scarf girl. And the universe had finally brought us together. 

[thecipriani]

🫵🏻👺🥐ereh el mago pan

sisoy amiga bachicha <3

[jess-abides]

🎶✨when u get this, put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. Then, if you're comfortable, send this ask/tag 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool) 🎶✨ 

Thanks for the tag @cynicalrecoverysociety ! I love this and am v much in my basic bitch pre-summer music lol 🪩 In no particular order except the one in which they came to mind:

1. Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift

2. Nasty (extended edition) - Russ

3. God is a Freak - Peach PRC (healing religious trauma fr and it’s a bop)

4. Fall for You - Secondhand Serenade (lol my husband and I love to sing it v dramatically)

5. this is me trying - Taylor Swift (YES two Taylor songs but this is a top tier crying song I truly urge you to add it to the playlist. You know the one.)

Tagging @skinreflectsthesun @malevolent-god @m-stlytoska @bniche @belovedgoofball @morningcalm-x @paisleysatinhairties @ereh-emanresu-tresni @smollestbun

[madraleen]

Attack on Titan - Season 4 Finale A Rewatch Commentary

(manga spoilers)

-as far as i've seen, the reactions to the finale have been overwhelmingly positive and my heart is at peace. it’s what aot deserves.

-i've been waiting for this since the manga; to see the beautiful jean/reiner bromance animated

-gosh, our ackermans are so beautiful

-hello yuki kaji's bb <3

-the desperation in annie as she fights hallu-chan

-i just want to know! did eren explicitly tell mikasa about the mouth, ymir, and visiting the others, or did she sense it path-like and they just committed to the living together scenario until the end?!

-i guess there were two paths. one path, eren ends up with mikasa and condemns paradis. the other path, eren ends up with armin. in hell. and condemns the world.

-EREN'S REFLECTION ON THE WINDOW HAS THE TITAN MARKS

-YES ARMIN GRAB THAT LIL BITCH'S HAIR (i love you eren, but.)

-how is aot so heartwarming amidst all this tragedy. there's just these moments that are so heartwarming. that’s the point, isn’t it -it's an excellent choice that they delayed eren telling armin that 80% of humanity dies. it makes sense for armin to chat and enjoy the sights when in his mind the only place that's been destroyed for sure is marley, their natural enemy.

-"ONLY IMYR KNOWS" MY ASS! WE KNOW WHY, EREH! because mikasa was a strong woman who loved deeply the one person who could actually get to the paths and bring about change and cause mikasa to bring about change! idiot to the end. i'm sure armin will explain it to you the next time after the next time.

-lil snek armin wanting to provoke a reaction from eren with his mikasa stuff

-it's so armin, to want to bear eren's sins together with him, and it's so damn heartwarming seeing eren so moved at realizing he's not alone and that he won't be alone and i just, argh, ARGH. eren seeing that he's so unconditionally loved, armin accepting his own responsibility, like, "you're not alone, you were never alone, you weren't driven to this alone, you should not be blamed alone, you should not bear it alone." and they're FINE with that, is the thing. they find peace in that, in the fact that they'll share the burden and be in hell *together.* what's interesting to me is that eren doesn't contradict armin. he doesn't tell him "no, you're not going to hell." either he understands and acknowledges armin's complicity and sins in general, or he just appreciates the thought, i can’t decide, but either way he feels relief. eren and armin, i cry. they always had a strong relationship, but this just elevates them to top friendships of all time. the anime strengthens their bond so incredibly much. through their shared fate, friendship, goals and crimes, they will end up together because they paved this road together - along with so many others, with so many good intentions. it's this relationship that shone the most to me in the anime ending, whereas in the manga ending the focus feels more on mikasa (ofc marina inoue also killed it throughout the ep, so she elevated armin by 110%). -and visually: the hair and teeth on eren's hand vs the seashell in armin's, both covered in blood. armin, in the midst of hell, giving eren a symbol of peace, freedom, life. armin, eren's ride-or-die, who formed eren and eren formed him, showing eren that he will never leave him alone, smiling as he says they'll be together forever. eren finding peace and relief in the fact during his darkest moment. -i respect armin's acknowledgement that he is the catalyst of eren's idea of the outside world, and that he played a role in everything. eren the founding titan didn't sprout off the earth like a cabbage, he was led to this by every single person in his life and by his own personality, everyone is complicit. but armin, bb, that's not why you're going to hell if any of you go to hell. i'm pretty sure pre-rumbling, armin is the paradis soldier with the highest kill count of civilians, out of a plan he orchestrated. he leveled marley's port and everything surrounding it. let's start from there, lil cinnamon roll, yes? -it's interesting to see how differently eren's two strongest relationships play out in the end. for mikasa, he creates a dream scenario, a clean-cut version of himself that's genuine but not his current state, the what would-have-been if mikasa had given a different answer. mikasa needs calmness, kindness, an anchor, and that’s what eren gives her, the part of him that she never fails to see even when eren’s at his worst. to armin, he's his current self in all his glory. scared, pathetic, self-loathing, confused, messed-up, kind (eren's always been kind, that's as non-debatable for me as it is for mikasa), insightful etc. he cries, he screams, he reasons, he loves. he hugs armin so hard. he hides nothing, because armin's always seen eren's ugly side and vice versa. armin needs truth, not kindness. in a way, mikasa sees through eren’s worst self, whereas armin accepts eren’s worst self for what it is, and both are right, and both love him as he is, as they are.

-eren's titan hand on armin's titan, i cannot

-mikasa has been so alone, man. so alone. i HOPE that's jean. i hope it's jean that’s with her. no one could understand her better than he can -excellent choice that they show what levi et all are doing three years later, instead of where they are. nice that they're addressing the environmental aspect of it all. -i don’t know how to conclude this. aot is a masterpiece, and although in many ways it’s been a torture getting to know it, i love it with all i have. i cherish the characters deeply, i adore the story, i am in awe of the world-building, and it’s affected me so deeply and profoundly that i feel bonded to it. it’s something really close to my heart.

[rotatiffantome]

The Mind Electric

Miracle Musical

Lyrics

About

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Operating as a palindrome, “The Mind Electric” is a song shrouded in mystery, and is largely left…

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The Mind Electric Lyrics

[Verse 5]

​thgir ti ta kool uoy fi gnimlaC

​cirtcele rehtehw rednop yeht reveN

​thgin eht hguorht ti edam gnivah levraM

​ot trats selcitrap eht ,thgirb sworg ti nehW

[Bridge]

​em ton m'I fi llet t'nac I, rotcoD

​dnim ym edisni no gniog s'tahw dnatsrednU

​em pleh enoemoS

​a edisni eloh a edisni llaf uoy dnA

​ees t'ndluoc uoy eloh a edisni llaf uoy dnA

​dnuora syalp niarb eht woh eeS

(!ah ah ah aH)

(llaF) nwod er'uoy lit' tog ev'uoy lla ti evig uoy dnA

(llaF) tog ev'yeht lla ti evig yeht dnA

(llaF) tog ev'yeht lla ti evig yeht dnA

(llaf yeht woh eeS) dnuorg eht krow sfres eht woh eeS

Ab-Soul 'Do Better' Official Lyrics & Meaning | Verified

[Post-Chorus]

​em rof yhtapmys evah ,eeht fo daelp I

​ees uoy ,yob a tsuj saw I

​em no ycrem evah ,eeht fo geb I

​ytsejam yht nwod gnilarips oS

​os ,os ,os ,os ,oS

[Chorus]

​ytngierevos eniht tuo gnihcrocS

​yllohw srebmahc enim gniyfirt-

-cele suht selpmet enim sekirts gninthgil eht sa

(etirdned noxA) gnitnacni ecnemmoc snuN

[Verse 4]

​yærp dna rewoc ot uoy redro I

​drol ruoy ma I ,modgnik ym ni ereH

​yawa em yrrac dna em revileD

​ygrene thguoht fo skraps gnirettacS

[Chorus]

​elbuort rof tsriht a setas suineg yhT

​llul fo llah eht ni gnikeirhS

​elbbur rednu gnipsag srewolf ehT

​nwod elbmurc srewot enim llA

(hoO)

ADVERTISEMENTSCROLL TO CONTINUE WITH CONTENT

[Verse 3]

(eef ,ecivres ,ecivres, ecivres ,ecivreS)

​yramrifni eht ot mih nmednoC

​enasni tiebla traeh doog a ev'I

​em em revo yrolg sti demialc sah niarb yM

?nialpxe I yam ,ronoh ruoy ,rehtaF

[Verse 2]

​dnah thgir ruoy esiar won ,nos ,uoy pleh oS

​hturt elohw eht llet ot raews ylnmeloS

(muf of if eef eht fo ecivreS) dnats eht no ynomitset ruoy deen ll'eW

?daelp uoy od woh ,ronim tnediseR

[Verse 1]

​lamiced ni etunim htaed sA

​htaerb siht gnidloh tnemom hcae fo knihT

​thgirf fo yrtiucric gnisolc gnisopxE

​thgil sseltimil sa sthguoht eseht fo knihT

[Verse 1]

Think of these thoughts as limitless light

Exposing closing circuitry of fright

Think of each moment holding this breath

As death minute in decimal

[Verse 2]

Resident minor, how do you plead?

We'll need your testimony on the stand (Service of the fee fi fo fum)

Solemnly swear to tell the whole truth

So help you, son, now raise your right hand

[Verse 3]

Father, your honor, may I explain?

My brain has claimed its glory over me

I've a good heart albeit enasni

Condemn him to the infirmary

[Chorus 1]

All mine towers crumble down

The flowers gasping under rubble

Shrieking in the hall of lull

Thy genius sates a thirst for trouble

[Verse 4]

Scattering sparks of thought energy

Deliver me and carry me away

Here in my kingdom, I am your lord

I order you to cower and præy

[Chorus 2]

Nuns commence incanting (Axon dendrite) (Help me, help me)

As the lightning strikes mine temples thus (Help me, help me)

Electrifying mine chambers wholly (Help me, help me)

Scorching out thine sovereignty (Help me, help me)

[Post-Chorus]

So spiraling down thy majesty

I beg of thee, have mercy on me

I was just a boy, you see

I plead of thee, have sympathy for me

[Bridge]

See how the serfs work the ground (See how they fall)

And they give it all they've got (Fall)

And they give it all they've got (Fall)

And you give it all you've got till you're down (Fall)

(Ha ha ha ha!)

See how the brain plays around

And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see

And you fall inside a hole inside a

Someone help me

Understand what's going on inside my mind

Doctor, I can't tell if I'm not me (Not you, huh?)

[Verse 5]

When it grows bright, the particles start to

Marvel having made it through the night

Never they ponder whether electric

Calming if you look at it right

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Labyrinth

Miracle Musical

looks like we got a real genius here

[hyunverse]

hiii Riri!! <33 I‘m the person who asked you if I can send asks to cupid on anon & ADJDJD – I am saur glad I could be one of your favourites on this app!! AHHH, I am literally crying, ty for saying that!! <3 & I saw how you preferred the name ‘Eren’ rn! SAURR, should I start calling you ‘Yeager’ or ‘Ereh’? maybe? it‘s an aot ref btw 😭 & Can I be the 🌕 anon? moons are really cute & it is saur comforting just like how you are!! & I really love the Moon too!! <3 & I hope you‘ve been taking care of yourself! & stay hydrated & safe, okay?? I love you! <33 🥰❤️

hi my sweet, yes ofc u can be 🌕 anon!! can i call u moony omg. HELP NAWT YEAGER.... how did u know i stole my name from THE eren jaeger 😔 i remember when i was obsessed w him omg. have u been catching up w the series? the ending ruined me </3 everytime i look at a bird i think of eren a little LOL.

me too i love the moon <3 my study is right beside the window and i get a perfect view of the moon. i love it sm :( now i will think of u everytime i look out at the moon!!!!

stay safe, have the loveliest week <3 i love you!!!