something iāve kept to myself for a year and i canāt keep pretending this doesnāt bother me anymore. iām genuinely done and i need to let this out of my chest.
iāve spent the last year blaming my absence on being sick, and that part was never a lie. anyone whoās watched me these past months knows exactly how rough itās been. some weeks i couldnāt even form a full sentence, never mind finish a chapter or could not go through the day. none of that was exaggerated.Ā
but it wasnāt the whole story either. it was just the version that was easiest to say out loud. the truth is messier than that.
letās start with the plagiarism. iām not talking about shared tropes or fandom overlap, because obviously weāre all working with the same characters, and obviously people can think of similar things without copying each other. what iām talking about is, opening a fic on ao3 and watching said fic unfold using the exact same skeleton iād already built on an old fic of mine. Yes, it happened. same structure, same sequence of events, same locations, same emotional turns, in the same order, for the same reasons. things iād created or was planning to use, or built on top of, without a word to me about it.
and through all of it, i never said anything publicly. every single time, i dealt with it in silent with the people involved. private messages. private forgiveness. i gave people room to be human, because i told myself maybe it wasnāt theft, maybe it was just admiration that skipped a step, the kind that wouldāve been fine if theyād only asked first (because yes, in no occasion was i ever asked to give permission for my stuff to be used). i didnāt want callout culture on my blog. i wanted this to be a space for stories, not conflict.
but in hindsight, that restraint was the problem. every time i let it go silently, it just proved to someone else that they could get away with it too. what actually hurt wasnāt spotting the similarities. it was realising there had never been any acknowledgement at all, no āhey, can i build on this? can i use this idea that you had already clearly posted?ā no credit, no mention. NOTHING.Ā
and i already know the response to that: āideas arenāt original anymore, specially on ficsā iām aware. iām not trying to trademark a trope because this is not just about tropes. iām talking about the outlining, the timelines, the rewrites, the thousands of discarded words, the hours spent making sure a character sounds like themselves and not like a placeholder. every location chosen on purpose. every emotional beat placed to build toward the next one. thatās not a passing idea, thatās construction work, and watching someone lift the blueprint is a different kind of exhausting than i know how to put into words. so every time it happened, i talked myself down. told myself it wasnāt a big deal. told myself people would eventually own up to it on their own. i accepted apologies that probably didnāt deserve accepting, and let things slide that shouldāve been called out properly.
on top of that came the commentary and the constant hate comments. constant scrutiny over anything i posted, delays, updates, decisions, wording, all of it questioned like i owed an explanation for existing. people combing through my work looking for something to criticise instead of something to enjoy, including baseless accusations that i was the one copying, which would almost be funny if it weren't so tiring.
and now, because my most recent fic did better than i expected, apparently better than some people could tolerate, some people decided the appropriate move was to start spreading outright lies about me. not criticism. not a difference of opinion. LIES, invented from nothing, said with enough confidence that people who donāt know me have no reason not to believe them. thatās the thing that actually cracked something open in me, because, if you follow me from a good time, you know can take criticism fine; iām pretty much the kind of writer that is very fine with it and i actually encourage it if you have something important to say with foundations and clear wordind. i can take someone hating my writing or disagreeing with how i see a character. but what i canāt wrap my head around is people who see something doing well and immediately go looking for a way to knock it down, as if my fic getting attention was somehow a personal insult to them. i truly just canāt understand that.Ā
and to be hornets, iām exhausted. genuinely, deeply exhausted in a way thatās stopped being about any one incident and has become about all of it stacked on top of each other.
i keep trying to find my way back to loving this the way i used to, to open a doc because i want to and not out of guilt for going quiet. iāll get a few good days where the words come easily, where i remember why i started doing this in the first place, and iāll actually let myself feel hopeful about it. and then, almost on schedule, something happens: another lifted idea surfaces, another cruel comment shows up in my inbox, another rumour starts circulating that i have to decide whether to address or swallow. i barely get steady again before something knocks me back down, and each time it takes a little longer to get back up than it did the time before.
this whole year iāve tried to take the high road. stay calm when i wanted to snap. assume good intentions even when the evidence said otherwise. clean up messes i didnāt make because i didnāt want anyone else caught in the fallout. shield people who never once considered shielding me, who took my silence as an invitation rather than a courtesy. and iām done with that. iām so done. done being the adult, done being the one whoās always expected to let it go for the sake of peace that only ever benefits the person doing the harm. done biting my tongue to avoid ācausing drama,ā as if naming something true is the same as starting a fight. done pretending this hasnĀæt taken a toll, because it has. itās affected my writing, my drive, how safe i feel putting anything out there at all, and honestly, how much i trust anyone who shows sudden interest in my work.
so hereās where i stand now, if it happens again, i wonāt be nice about it anymore. one more stolen idea, one more person borrowing my work without a word, one more attempt to pass my ideas off as somebody elseās one more lie about me, and iāll call it out where everyone can see it, with receipts if i have to. iām not interested in being diplomatic about theft anymore. a year of silence should never have been mistaken for consent, and iĀæm not going to keep paying for other peopleās lack of decency with my own peace of mind.
i still love writing. that hasnāt changed and probably never will. itās everything around it iām losing patience for: the scrutiny, the entitlement, the assumption that putting something online means itās public property to lift from. iām starting to lose faith in is whether this community is worth sharing that writing with anymore.Ā
so, honestly, my first thought lately has been to delete all of my stuff, every fic, every draft, every outline, every note, this whole blog iāve put years into building from nothing. the only thing stopping me is the handful of friends whoāve stuck with me through this, whoāve reminded me on the bad days why i started in the first place. iād genuinely rather write privately for the five people i trust, sending docs or screenshots directly, knowing exactly where my words are going, than keep putting my work out into a space where it might just get picked apart, misread, or repurposed the moment it does well.
iām just worn out, and iād like people to redirect that energy inward instead of monitoring everything i do like itās their job. iām just someone posting fic for a ship i love, thatās the whole thing, it always has been. if that success bothers you, if it makes you jealous or defensive or whatever it is youāre feeling, thatās something for you to sit with and work through on your own time, not something to take out on me. iām done carrying that for anyone else.Ā
maybe tomorrow iāll regret posting this or maybe iāll delete it once iāve calmed down. i honestly donāt know. what i do know is that writing this is probably the closest iāve come in months to actually saying what iāve been thinking instead of keeping it to myself. iāve spent so long swallowing my frustration because i didnāt want to create more drama, didnāt want people taking sides, and didnāt want every private situation turned into public entertainment. i kept telling myself it was easier to deal with everything quietly than to make a post like this.Ā
but iām exhausted.Ā
iām exhausted from always feeling like i have to be the adult in situations that i didnāt create. iām exhausted from cleaning up after other peopleās actions, from extending grace that was never returned, from trying to resolve things privately while watching the same patterns repeat themselves over and over again. at some point, constantly being the ābigger personā stops feeling mature and starts feeling like youāre just giving people permission to keep walking over you. that stops now.
As one season fades, another begins, and once again, your heart remains with me.
This July 20-27, 2026, follow Eren and Mikasa through every season of love, as we celebrate š šØš®š« šššš¬šØš§š¬: The #EremikaWeek2026 šøāļøšāļø
HELLO GUYS woke up thinking in bodyguard eren and politicianās daughter mikasa, forever acting like a brat just to see how far she can push him. poor girl doesnāt realise heās far too good at handling her when she starts misbehaving š«¢šš
thank you so much for loving āi apologise if you feel somethingā / metalhead eren and goth mikasa all these years later š„¹ it makes me so happy that people still remember and cherish this fic after so long. truly grateful always! š¤š¹
five years ago, on april 1st, i posted my first eremika fic and what started almost like a joke ended up becoming something that slowly, grew into a part of my life i canāt imagine letting go of. it turned into this beautiful, messy, deeply emotional journey full of writing, friendships, and so many worlds created just for my beloved eremika ā„ļø
i didnāt know it back then, but that first fic was the beginning of something that would stay with me through so many different versions of myself. through days where writing felt effortless and everything flowed, and through days where i stared at the screen, doubting every word, wondering if i should just stop.
thereās been so much along the way. so much laughter over the smallest things. so many tears, too, over scenes that hurt more than i expected, over stories that meant more than they probably should have. late nights where i told myself ājust one more paragraphā and suddenly it was 3am. moments where i felt proud, where i reread something and thought, yeahā¦ i made this.
and then there were the hard moments. the ones where i felt stuck, or tired, or like i had nothing left to give. the times i wanted to quit, to disappear quietly without finishing anything. last year especially, i was almost absent, and i felt it so deeply, it was like being disconnected from a piece of myself. like something important had gone quiet. but even then, the love never really left. it stayed there waiting for me. and coming back feltā¦ right (?). like returning to a place that still had room for me, no matter how long iād been gone.
what makes this even more special is everything and everyone that came with it. the people i met, the kindness i received, the comments, the support, the shared love for these characters and their story. it never felt like i was just writing into nothing, there was (and has) always (been) someone there, reading, feeling, understanding and that means more to me than iāll ever be able to fully explain.
this journey isnāt just about writing fics. itās about growing, feeling, connecting, and creating something that stays, even if itās small. itās about having a place to return to, again and again. and now, 5 years later, i can say it with my whole heart: iām so grateful to still be here, i love being part of this, i love writing (even when itās hardl i love eremika, always and forever and i really, truly hope to stay for many more years more than ten at least.
iām not done, not even close to be done. there are still so many stories left to tell and so many words to pour out. i promise iām just warming up! š«¶š»š¤
Iāve been fixated on this recently so hear me outā¦ an AOT high school au but make it Superbad meets Freaks and geeks.
Set in 2007, right before senior year starts. Eren realises he has nothing to show for being seventeen. Heās never been to a party, his only friend is Armin, and most importantly, heās never had a girlfriend.
So he decides heās going to fix that. Him and Armin make a bucket list of goals that feel embarrassingly out of reach for them before graduation. To put it in simple terms, Eren wants them to become the kind of people others know and boy does that land them bam into a senior year to remember (in good and bad ways).
ā¦ and then thereās Mikasa. The single most gorgeous person Eren has ever laid his virgin eyes on. Problem: she didnāt even know he existed. Or atleast, thatās what he told himself while his stomach flipped with caffeinated squirrels every time she walked into class. Of course, she ascended straight to the top of the list. And naturally, Eren had to drag Armin along, because someone had to be the voice of reason while he charged headfirst into calamity.
Between awkward encounters, humiliating attempts to make the most of the year, and accidentally making friends with people they didnāt expect to like, Eren and Arminās nine months to catch up to life officially beginsā¦ and not everything will go according to plan.
-`ā”Ā“-
AAH what do we think?? Iāve already started writing itš«£ and my plan is to get it out around June/July so I can do weekly updates for you guys!! Iāve also come up with a lot of illustrations I can do to add to each chapter and help with visualisations while reading.
Eren and Mikasa come from neighbouring families who live in Shiganshina on properties very close to each other. Their houses are separated only by a small river and a bridge.
Their grandmothers are close friends who always wanted to unite their families. Erenās grandmother is a viscountess and Mikasaās grandmother is a baroness. Both women had about three children, but those children married outside the families, so the union never happened.
The viscountessās third son has a son (Eren) at the same time the baronessās third son has a daughter (Mikasa). The grandmothers immediately decide to arrange a marriage between the two newborns.
They declare that Eren and Mikasa will marry when they turn eighteen and arrange the betrothal through the childrenās parents, who are visibly uncomfortable with the idea but not fully opposed.
Eren and Mikasa grow up together. They are educated together and spend much of their time playing and visiting each otherās homes across the bridge.
They share a close friend, Armin, the grandson of the village churchās vicar. The three of them become very close.
Around the age of twelve, Eren and Mikasa finally understand what marriage means. Eren reacts badly to the idea and says cruel things to Mikasa, including that he would never marry a boring, lice-ridden girl like her.
Mikasa is deeply hurt and stops speaking to Eren. Eren also stops speaking to her, and the distance between them grows.
When they are sixteen, Eren decidesāagainst his grandmotherās wishesāthat he wants to join the army. His grandfather, the old viscount, gives him the money to buy a commission.
((A commission is the official appointment as an army officer, granting ranks such as Ensign, Lieutenant, Captain, Major, or Colonel. Buying a commission meant paying money to obtain a rank in a regiment.))
((The system existed so that only men of money or social standing would become officers. Men without money could join as privates and might rise to corporal or sergeant but almost never became officers because those ranks usually required purchasing a commission.))
Eren buys a commission and enters the army as an Ensign. Over the years he rises through the ranks and becomes a captain at the age of twenty-three.
During his years in the military, Mikasa writes letters to him, but Eren never replies. He deliberately ignores them, and eventually Mikasa stops writing.
The next time he receives a letter from her, she informs him that his grandmother is ill and has asked him to come home because there is something important she wishes to tell him. Eren ignores the letter.
Later he receives another letter from his father informing him that the viscountess has died.
Eren returns to Shiganshina, only to discover that his grandmother has already been buried. Her last wish was that Eren should be happy, so she and Mikasaās grandmother had broken the engagement before her death.
He also learns that Mikasaās grandmother died a year earlier. The baroness left Mikasa a considerable inheritance, enough to support her for a season with the assistance of Baron Ackerman (now Levi).
Eren celebrates the fact that he no longer has to marry. When he attempts to speak to Mikasa again, however, she treats him with complete indifference.
Eren asks Armin (who is now the village vicar) why Mikasa treats him so coldly. Armin tells him plainly that Mikasa is resentful because Eren never answered her letters.
Eren argues that Mikasa should be happy now that she is free to marry someone she truly loves. Armin reacts sharply and tells him something along the lines of, āAnd how exactly do you know she doesnāt love you, you jackass?ā
Meanwhile, Mikasa begins preparing for her season and attends neighbourhood dances and social gatherings, where she quickly attracts attention.
Eren also attends these dances, since his grandmother had not wanted the household to remain in mourning forever.
At these dances, teas, and gatherings, Eren begins to see Mikasa differently. He notices how beautiful she is, how intelligent she is, how she refuses to be controlled by men, and how capable she seems at everything she does. Slowly, he realises he is falling in love with her.
The realisation makes him miserable. He grows jealous when other men show interest in her.
Armin mocks him for it and says he has no chance of winning Mikasa back. Eren, stubborn as ever, takes that as a challenge and decides he will win her back.
When the season begins, Mikasa travels to Mitras. Eren follows and attends several of the same social events.
During this time, a particular man begins to show strong interest in Mikasa.
One evening at a gentlemenās club, Eren overhears that man boasting that he intends to marry Mikasa no matter what because he needs her money. He even suggests that if necessary he will ruin her reputation to force the match.
Instead of confronting the man directly, Eren goes straight to Mikasa and warns her about what he heard.
Mikasa rejects the warning and sends him away, telling him he has no right to involve himself in her affairs. She reminds him that he never cared about her before, so he should not pretend to care now.
Eren does not know what to do, but he remains nearby and continues trying to protect her even though she openly rejects him.
Later, Mikasa begins to express doubts about marrying the other man, which prompts the man to put his plan into action.
His method of ruining her reputation is uncertain. One possibility is that he sneaks into her room at night so that people will discover them together. Another possibility is that he arranges a kidnapping.
If it is the kidnapping, Eren rescues her, but the man spreads rumours afterward, damaging Mikasaās reputation anyway.
Mortified by the scandal, Mikasa decides to return to Shiganshina.
Unfortunately, the rumours spread even there. Because of this, Mikasa asks her father to find her a husband quickly so that the gossip will stop.
Privately, Mikasaās father approaches Eren. Although Eren behaved badly in the past, he was the one who saved Mikasa, and her father cannot think of a better man to marry her.
Eren sees this as his chance both to save Mikasa and to win her back, so he agrees to marry her.
However, Mikasa remains cold and indifferent. She makes it clear that their marriage was arranged once before, and that is exactly what it is now, nothing more.
How will Eren win Mikasa back? I donāt know, friends, haha!
I posted something on Twitter that went more or less like this: ānew hc: mikasa becomes an anonymous poet after the events of aot, and all her finest poems are about the green-eyed man.ā Later today, while I was in the car (as copilot, of course) the idea would not leave me alone. So I started writing. What came out is something I imagine Mikasa herself might have written about her dead muse, Eren, part poetry, part lyrical prose, and part me practising šāāļø So here it is!
Dead Muse
āOr poet Mikasaās elegy for Eren.
I have tried many times to write your name, and it ought to be easy. Four letters only, nothing complicated. But, each time I try, my hand slows, as though the ink itself knows what it must confess: that the world still turns because you donāt.
Eren.
There. I have written it again.
The wind is gentler now. Children laugh in streets that once knew only smoke. Spring arrives without asking permission of artillery or marching boots. The world breathes with the careless relief of someone who has forgotten the cost of its own survival.
I suppose that is victory.
The voices in my head say I saved everyone. They say your death ended the roar of the earth and the trembling of nations. They say the future was purchased in that single, terrible moment. They do not say your name when they say these things.
But I do. I say it aloud.
Eren Jaeger.
Boy with hair the colour of chestnut bark after rain. Boy with eyes green as the deep woods in early spring. Boy who stood in the sunlight so often that the sun itself seemed to claim him as its own.
I remember that.
It is strange what the mind keeps. Not the thunder of armies or the collapse of cities. No. I remember the little things. The way you frowned when you were thinking too hard. The way you ran ahead as a child, always ahead, as though the horizon had called you by name. The way your voice sharpened when you spoke of freedom, like a blade drawn from its sheath. The way you were always moving towards something I could not yet see.
Perhaps you saw it long before the rest of us. Perhaps that is why you smiled that day.
Sometimes I wonder whether you were relieved. Whether the weight you carried had grown so vast that even breathing must have felt like lifting mountains. The world believed you had become a monster. Yet monsters do not look at someone the way you looked at me in the end.
Monsters do not lick the hands of their executioners.
Your head was heavy in my arms. I remember the warmth of your hair beneath my fingers. The world was loud thenāscreaming, crumbling, endingāyet around us there was a silence that did not belong to war.
Just us. Just the boy who wanted freedom and the girl who followed him through every storm.
I kissed you.
The world will never understand that moment. They will write histories and tragedies and speeches about salvation. They will measure victory in numbers.
But I know the truth.
The world was saved by a boy who ran too far towards freedom and by a girl who loved him enough to stop him.
I visit the tree sometimes.
The wind moves through the branches and makes a sound in a way that reminds me of your laugh. It is a poor imitation, yet the earth tries its best. I bring flowers when I can. Not because you cared for flowers. You never did. But because I do not know what else to bring to someone who gave everything.
Sometimes I speak aloud, as though you are merely late returning from some reckless journey. I tell you about the sky, about the silence, about the ordinary peace you once believed was impossible.
You would hate it, I think. You would say the world is too complacent now. Too satisfied. You would glare at the horizon and insist there must be more beyond it.
And then you would run again, because you were always running, never stopping. I suppose I am the one who did.
Still, if the wind carries words where the living cannot reach, then hear this: you were loved.
Not as a soldier loves a cause, nor as a nation loves a saviour. Those are shallow things, loud things. What I carried for you was quieter. It lived in the spaces between heartbeats, in the way my hand always found yours without thought.
You were the beginning of my world.
And you were the ending of it.
The earth is calm now. The sea sleeps without trembling. Children are born who will never know the sound of Titans walking.
That peace belongs to you.
So rest, Eren.
Rest beneath the same sky you once tried to seize with both hands. And if there is any freedom beyond death, I hope you have finally reached it.
2087
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
