#wontdeter

[wontconcede-blog]

  ‘ -- ... yeah? You say somethin’? ’ // @wontdeter

[oncforall-moved]

@wontdeter

  ‘ you...you just said the same thing as me.    h--have you been uttering the same tactics as me the w-whole time? ‘

[wontconcede-blog]

    “Do you think he would’ve been proud of us?” -- a soft huff. “Marco?” | | @wontdeter

[wontconcede-blog]

wontdeter replied to your post: softly yodels i hit 100 followers

home of sexual

you come into my house

and insult my gardenias like this ? ???? :///

[wontconcede-blog]

'who could've known that this was how things might have went?' his voice soft, he hasn't realized that he's even speaking with enough volume for jean to hear him --- mostly to himself, his eyes drift to the calloused palm of his hand where his fingers stretch out, then clench into a fist. 'is this anything anyone would've imagined?'

“Mmm …” it’s drawled, he, too, focusing on his hand. It’s scarred, rough – but even so, not at all like Armin’s. They’ve all faced their fair share of grief and tragedy, Armin more than most. He ruminates on this a few moments before answering, and he does so in a way that’s offhanded, almost dismissive. “Used to be I wanted to be an MP. Grew up imagining the cushy life and all that.” It is very much an afterthought, an unfocused, drifting response that isn’t to anything or anybody in particular. 

It takes him a while before he realizes that Armin had spoken, and that in a roundabout way, he’d responded. There’s a subtle ‘tch’ sound from Jean, followed by a gentle exhale of breath into his cupped hands. It’s cold, son of a bitch. 

“Sorry.” he quickly offers, unsure of what he’s really apologizing for. He shifts against himself, a knee drawing up to his chest. “Nobody, really. I thought …” he pauses for a moment, then, “Thought it would’ve been over quicker. Didn’t know we’d still be fighting after all this time. Didn’t know we’d lose so many –” 

Jean catches himself, lips tightening. He doesn’t need to finish that thought, the implication’s clear enough. Instead, he allows himself a glance at Armin for perhaps the first time in a long while. He’s never realized how vibrant Armin’s eyes are, even in dire situations like this. It brings to mind what Armin has told Jean of the ocean -- crashing waves of water, and bright, blue tides as far as the eye can see. He’d asked Armin if you could get lost at sea, but an ensuing Titan attack had prevented him from answering. 

Now, staring at Armin’s eyes, realizing their likeness to this body of water Jean’d never see -- he had his answer. Yes. 

‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’ he says after a while, then: ‘We’re still alive. Somehow.’ Some of us aren’t, he adds to himself. ‘That’s something.’ 

But he’s not sure of this, not anymore. 

[wontconcede-blog]

his fingers catch a stray strand of his sweater. ' I've been keeping myself awake ... '

    there’s a choice for you? he’s bitter at first. he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth and a casual tch sound escapes from his mouth. then he remembers how easily other members of the scout regiment are able to sleep at the end of a day, and remembers how difficult it is for him. he eyes armin’s nervous gesture, takes note of the way his voice trails off. ‘why?’ he asks, simply, bluntly. 

   maybe a little too bluntly, but it’s already said and done. he attempts to counter it with a smile that is soft, as soft as he can make it in this situation. ‘i mean, what’s the matter?’ this does come off more genuine than before, and he moves to close the distance between them. ‘anything i can do?’ he knows there isn’t in the same way armin couldn’t do anything to remedy the voice that plagues jean every night ( marco’s voice ); but he asks anyway. there’s no harm in it. 

    no harm in placing his hand on armin’s own, steadying both of them. the smile from before deepens, and he realizes how easily it comes to him when he’s near armin. how easily a lot of things come to him. he wants to say something else, wants to break up the silence with a sarcastic quip or two, but nothing comes to mind. he allows himself one thing this night, relishing in the closeness of his friend. 

    it’s gentle, quick, subtle, but there nonetheless: a press of his lips against armin’s forehead, lingering there for perhaps longer than necessary, and then a soft sigh. ‘somethin’ like that, maybe?’ 

   no more smiles, only a wide, boyish grin. 

[femcle-blog]

wontdeter replied to your post: 'icy hues' .... *cringe* ...'golden tresses' .......

Jesus why are anons being such assholes lately

this is why we can’t have nice things :^)

[titanmade-blog]

@wontdeter // starter call.

          he chokes, the water he was given scorching his throat. given the situation, it was not recommended you drink water that hasn’t been boiled -- even less so you drink it while it’s boiling. that was eren’s first mistake, but another was spitting it out posthaste. the water lept from his mouth as he turned his head away from the fire, splattering armin where he stood. he coughs and exposes his tongue to the open air, only realizing his mistake when the pain had settled.

                                   ❝ o-oh --- armin i’m --- holy shit i’m so sorry, i --- ❞