gonna have my new blog set up sometime tomorrow after work, it’s gonna be private so i’ll only be sharing it with a few people. lmk if you want the link otherwise i won’t be coming back here!
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@aendeiousa
gonna have my new blog set up sometime tomorrow after work, it’s gonna be private so i’ll only be sharing it with a few people. lmk if you want the link otherwise i won’t be coming back here!
gonna have my new blog set up sometime tomorrow after work, it’s gonna be private so i’ll only be sharing it with a few people. lmk if you want the link otherwise i won’t be coming back here!
killedarlings·:
While he appreciates the softness of her voice, he still is left uncertain. “ Is … hiding it the best way? ” He’s heard of fake it till you make it, but he’s not sure how much of this he can take. Loss has become a reoccurring feeling, but he’s not sure he can ever get used to it.
His eyes are downcast as his fingers grip at his uniform just above his heart. “ You make it sound so easy. But … I don’t think I’m strong enough. ”
“ then they’ll see you weak. ” her words accompanied by the press of her lips. a fine line to hide all that dares to spill. it’s great / unbearable. but it’s a burden they must carry. “ i never said it was. ” even the strongest struggle.
“ you’re not weak, you’re just hurting. ” a flutter of lashes and her gaze shifts elsewhere. a sign of avoidance. even she finds these habits difficult.
like for a lyric starter !!
“ well, if i’m being honest my conscience isn’t doing bad. ” @fhynite !!
@worstheir show me ur tits
gepanzrt:
Well— that is the question, isn’t it? In a world trampled to dust, stomped to ash beneath so many feet, there are precious few thousands left who can ask, What is the point, now? What is there left worth fighting for?
“It’s in your nature, I think,” he replies quietly, digging his shovel into the ground. There is much work to be done on a farm, even one as well-kept as Historia’s. New paddocks to raise, fences to mend, fields to plow; Reiner draws the back of his hand across is forehead, wicking sweat beneath the noonday sun.
( He did not give us many options. That is the world Eren left us — fight, or die. )
“How about you go inside, Mikasa?” He nods back towards the modest dwelling at the edge of the treeline, the shotgun-style house where he keeps to himself. Reiner leans against the shovel, feels the earth give way beneath his boots. “There’s a bed in there, and it’s a long journey home. You could use the rest.”
the sweat bleeds across her forehead, beneath dark tresses. they tickle skin as the move in the breeze. a pause in her work, axe still embedded in wood. it’s deep, like the wounds she received after years of service / after years of trauma. a part of her is unsure how those words even fell past lips. the admission of fatigue / how weak it makes her feel. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. her head tilts toward the dwelling, absent gaze and heavy heart.
𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅. 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆?
“ i’m not... tired. ” not physically. it’s the wounds that cannot be seen that cannot heal. calloused hands press to her face, moving the sweat across porcelain skin. finely carved.
“ we came to help historia, let’s do just that. ” another raise of her arms and tired muscles burn. a feeling she’s pushed through for years and would continue to.
sometimes i think about how mika has had a hold on me since this damn show aired. been writing her off and on ever since... will i ever be free.
“ try to hide how you feel. ” @killedarlings
“ and still i don’t know why i’m always putting up a fight. ” @gepanzrt !!
“ please stay here a little longer. ” @worstheir !!
like for a lyric starter !!
do u guys think anyone saw mika kiss headless eren bc that’s so embarrassing no wonder why she left
mugcnmade·:
“THE THOUGHT OF MY family is often what drives me forward. But I doubt she thinks of me nearly as much.” Sanataka did not sugarcoat his outspoken thoughts, or admit it with derivates or fancy words. Teeth pressed into the plush of his lip as anxiety thrummed and Sana had taken to pinching the fabric of his haori in his fingers, mimicking Mikasa’s fidget with a worrying amount of exactness.
“ . . . Who is on your mind?”
she stiffens, muscles tight beneath her robe. she cowers, child like in the way she hides from it. those with his words she quickly realizes that there is more than one heavy heart in this room. “ my family. ” the white fabric peaks passed her sleeve, the mark of her mother’s clan 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 into skin. it’s apparent even with age. raised skin thick and white. “ what was your mother like? ” 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟’𝑠 / 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡?
“ do you miss her at all? ”
the handmaiden (2016)
People like to think war means something.
the taste of it is bitter. the ash from bombs / the heat from smoke. it coats and rots, their flesh inviting. 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒂, it has no preference. just the need for them. but she wants to feel wanted, by someone, by something. but war was not enough. there's a need for something more / something deeper. “ what does it mean to you? ” she doesn’t look when she asks, just to the ground beneath him. the land is torn by the plague of their very existence.
“ do you know what you’ve done? ” it’s something she asks herself too. the lives she’s taken, the pain of war. it’s not lost of her. 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚝. 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎. sickly even. 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒? because i do. @gerichteter !!
“you have a touch of homesickness — half for my body, half for the grave”
— Miguel Hernández, from “My heart can’t go on any longer” (tr. by Timothy Baland)