#sina writes

[yersina]

[part 2]

When Eddie walks into the new Pokemon Nursery in his hometown and is confronted with the view of Steve Harrington, former member of the Elite Four, behind the counter, he immediately turns on his heel and walks back out so he can duck behind the brick wall of the exterior and hyperventilate for a little bit.

Right.

He’d forgotten: Steve (former member of the Elite goddamn Four) hails from Hawkins too.

When Steve had fought his way onto the Elite Four, he’d been the talk of the town. Even Wayne had brought it up when Eddie had finally stopped at a Pokemon Center to accept his call. The Harrington boy’s in the Four, didja hear? he’d said. Eddie sure had—from every single person who’d seen his hometown written on his Trainer License that week. His Rotom Phone had proudly displayed every article written about the guy, each with the same photo in its thumbnail: Steve, backlit by the bright gym lights, Pokeball in hand and Growlithe at his side.

It made for a pretty picture, sure, but Eddie still has memories of the Harrington manor on the outskirts of Hawkins, like Harrington Senior and Lady Harrington couldn’t bear to set foot in the town proper. When he’d run into them at the PokeMart once, they’d sneered at him and his dirty shoes and tugged away a young Steve with rough motions. He can’t imagine that Steve himself would be any different, growing up in a family like that.

(None of this stops him from caving and watching the recording of the fateful gym battle on his Rotom Phone, screen bright in the darkness of his room in the Pokemon Center and breath caught in his throat. Steve, oddly, had a rough way of battling—intuitive and smart but not elegant. Not like it’d be if he had battling tutors or proper training. At the end of the battle, he runs out onto the field, heedless of the craters and cracks in the ground, and smothers his Empoleon in a hug while Growlithe barks up a storm behind him.

Eddie wonders why they didn’t take a picture of that.)

But here Steve Harrington is, back in Eddie’s hometown and standing between him and getting his Chingling looked at. Great.

He briefly wonders if he could wait and come back another day, or preferably find his way to another town far from here where there’s no threat of having his Pokemon seen to by Steve Harrington (formerly of the Elite Four) but he’s already promised Wayne that he’s staying for dinner at the very least, and also that’s Steve Harrington pushing open the door and looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey,” Steve greets. Eddie stares. “You. Uh. You okay over there? I noticed you come in for a moment earlier.”

“Yeeep,” Eddie squeaks miserably. Out of the limelight, Steve still looks unfairly pretty. Eddie can no longer say that it’s the magic of makeup and adrenaline that makes his cheeks rosy red and it’s not sweat that makes his skin glow. That’s unfair, right? Some people just get dealt all the luckiest cards in life. “I’m doing just peachy. I’ll head in in a sec, just… decided I needed some more air.”

Steve gives him a look that says he buys absolutely none of Eddie’s bullshit. “…right. Well, we’ll be here when you’re ready.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Eddie groans and knocks his head back against the brick wall. What is his life.

He allows himself ten seconds of self-pity before sucking in a breath and then ten more seconds of self-questioning before he lets the breath out and then he has a final ten seconds of pep talk before finally pushing open the door—for real this time.

“Hi,” Steve greets again, and oh, that’s not fair, he’s got his arms wrapped around a wriggling Tinkatink, looking completely nonchalant and distressingly competent while she wails. “Sorry, this one grew up kind of isolated, we’re still getting her socialized to humans—hey, calm down, it’s okay, remember? We talked about this. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.” He says all of this in a low, soothing tone, stroking the sides of the Tinkatink until she finally seems to cry herself out, blinking watery eyes up at Steve. “Can you stay out here while I help this nice gentleman?” Her mouth wobbles concerning for a moment before she nods hesitantly. “You’re doing so great, Tinkatink. Proud of you.” He gives her one last head pat before looking up at Eddie. “Sorry, again. How can I help you?”

Eddie hesitantly inches towards the counter, not wanting to provoke the Pokemon into a crying fit again. “Hey, it’s cool. Can’t say I’ve had anyone call me ‘nice’ or a ‘gentleman’ before though.”

Steve huffs a laugh. Great, now Eddie knows the corners of his eyes crinkle when he’s amused. “Thanks for the warning, I think.”

He waits expectantly until it finally, embarrassingly, clicks for Eddie, and he scrambles to bring out Chingling’s Pokeball from his bag. “My Chingling hatched recently, but she’s been making this weird garbled noise? I’ve been keeping her in a Pokeball ever since, just in case, but I’m not sure what to do.” It had been terrifying, frankly, when Chingling had started making sounds that were awfully reminiscent of choking. Putting her in a Pokeball was as much for her own protection as it was for Eddie’s sanity. “I’ve used a heal on her and taken her to a PokeCenter already, but neither of those changed anything.”

Steve hums. “Tinkatink,” he says to the pink Pokemon now huddled half-behind Steve on the counter, “can you step to the side for a little bit? I’m going to look at this nice gentleman’s Chingling.”

Tinkatink, to her credit, looks like she thinks about it very hard before shaking her head in a firm no. Steve sighs. “Will Chingling be bothered by another Pokemon? I don’t think I can get her away at this point unless I return her to her Pokeball.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Chingling loves socializing.” Eddie doesn’t actually know, since his Chingling’s been stuck in a Pokeball most of the time since she’s been hatched, but it’s an educated guess. Probably.

He taps on the Pokeball and lets Chingling out onto the same counter. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets softly. He winces when Chingling’s returning chime is the equivalent of a human wheeze. “Yeah, there it is.”

“Well, her breathing sounds fine, thankfully,” Steve evaluates swiftly, which is already a weight off Eddie’s shoulders. “She seems to be doing alright other than when she talks, so—”

And then, to Eddie’s horror, he clamps one hand down on each side of Chingling’s head, pushes her mouth open, and sticks a hand inside. “Uh,” Eddie says weakly. “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t as awful as it looks, I promise,” Steve mutters distractedly, fishing around in there for something. Chingling doesn’t look particularly bothered, at least, even with her mouth propped open on Steve’s arm. Eddie’s still not sure how to take any of this. “Faster than looking for my flashlight—ah.” He pulls his hand out from Chingling’s mouth, fingers wrapped around something. “There we go.”

And… it’s a rock.

“It’s a rock,” Eddie observes astutely.

“Yeah. Not uncommon for Chinglings, actually.” He pats Chingling on the head, and she jingles merrily at him.

“Oh, you’re back to normal!” Eddie cries. He scoops Chingling up in his arms and attempts to cuddle her within an inch of her life. “Never scare me like that again.” He gets a muffled chime in return.

Steve watches the whole show with a faint smile. “Just be careful of what Chingling eats from now on. They make sound through, uh, what’s basically their own rock, so if anything else gets stuck down there, it messes up the sound. Not really harmful, but it’s worth keeping an eye on her, especially if she’s the curious sort.” He reaches over and tickles her side until she sticks her head out curiously from the circle of Eddie’s arms. “Be careful, okay? If you keep out of trouble, you’ll grow to be a big and strong Chimecho in no time.” She jingles at him cheerily. “No biggie,” he says, turning back to Eddie. “Just a quick fix.”

“Seriously, thank you so much.” Eddie shifts Chingling to one arm and goes digging for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” When he meets Steve’s eyes, agape, Steve gives him a wink and a smile. Eddie refuses—refuses—to think of the smile as shy. Or bashful. Or flirtatious. Or anything that might be Eddie’s own wishful interpretation. Steve is just smiling. Just smiling. “It took, like, two seconds. Chill. We’ll call it a free consultation.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but.” Eddie flounders awkwardly like a Magikarp out of water. “Are you sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” At Eddie’s continued hesitation, he sighs. “Seriously, don’t think too hard about it. If you really want to thank me, come back again.”

As much as he wants to protest, Eddie hadn’t been raised to turn down what is the equivalent of free money. “Alright, if you say so.” He shifts Chingling to a more comfortable hold, cradling her in his hands. “And it’s Eddie by the way. Still wouldn’t say that I’m a ‘nice gentleman’.”

Steve laughs. “Sure, sure. Nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m Steve.” Eddie swallows down his I know. “Have a good day,” he says in a very clear dismissal. “Hope to see you back here soon.”

“‘Bye, Steve,’” Eddie squeaks in a falsetto, waving one of Chingling’s arms. Steve, gamely, waves back. “See you around, man.”

And just like that, he steps back out of Steve Harrington’s life, but now with the knowledge that the guy is so, so gentle with Pokemon, has a beautiful smile, and is generous enough to let Eddie get away with what was definitely not a free consultation.

Fuck, he’s gonna have to come back, isn’t he?

Goddammit.

#sina writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #tho I guess this is more pre-steddie #pokemon au #why did Eddie choose to take chingling to a nursery instead of a Pokemon center you ask? #good question! my excuse is that Hawkins is too small for their own Pokemon center so they don’t actually have one #you’d have to go to a bigger town further away to get your Pokemon checked out so the nursery’s more convenient

[sableeira]

stressing out about my final presentation because I of course had to spend my time writing skk fanfic when I should have been working on my presentation

#haven‘t written anything in 8 years but I thought it‘s a good idea to pick up that hobby now in order to procrastinate #okay tbf I‘ve been researching more about Meiji era japan than actually writing but I guess that‘s a start #anyone got some pacing tips? I feel like I get stuck on extremely unimportant detail descriptions and then speed along the rest #sina’s rambling #I still have tomorrow to get stuff done but my presentation is the first one on Thursday and I just know that’s gonna kick my ass #and I also should be sleeping my sleep schedule is making everything 10 times worse

[sailorspica]

most of the southern 104th including armin have no real recollection of annie as a cadet, rly eren had the closest relationship w her bc of their muay thai lessons, but just one-ish month living together and hitch noticed so much about her like??? the difference that much closer quarters makes!! yes she observed her for bullying material, but she bought her that fugly hair comb and pointed out her clothes are shitty (in my mind Hand Me Downs From Reibert); i think it was easy for annie to withdraw in the girls' barracks and actually physically hide as a small person, especially next to louder personalities like sasha's, plus she was often sneaking off anyway, but annie ironically went from the anonymity of living in a cold dorm to the scrutiny of bunking with a "mean girl" who has a crush on her

#wall sina goodbye posting always!!! #yes i should be thesis writing #♃ #aottxt #hitchannie #annie leonhart #hitch dreyse

[inkcurlsandknives]

Hey Writeblr today’s Writing Question

Do you ever imagine fanfiction of your WIP/book?

No lie I absolutely have written romantic oneshots for some of my side character couples from Saints of Storm and Sorrow. Sina and Isko are my faves.

#writeblr #saints of storm and sorrow #Sina my beloved #writing questions

[48787]

toki suli nasa wawa li pona suli jaki e pilin mi nasa wawa

(Little too lazy rn to make sure that is grammatically correct, but toki ike is still more toki pona than toki English so I don't care that much hehe, it's good enough for me at least. I would write this blurb in toki pona as well but I still need to work out comparisons a bit more first.)

I made my post ideating a second blog or a Blog Revelation -> Regenesis or maybe something else entirely, and then immediately after posting I refreshed the page and saw people were contemplating the efficacy of this webbed site once again due to unneeded/unwanted/unpopular changes to the site once again, which got me thinking quite a bit more about what I actually wanted out of all this. It was kinda like a sign from the Gods, shedding divine light to guide my path.

And there's such a radiant glow coming from the "Export Blog" button...

I don't think the data theft shit'll be that bad for me specifically, I don't think I did anything here that could be considered "Sensitive" (Relative to any other shitty data stealing websites we keep finding ourselves normalizing) but I suppose you never really know until it's too late. Regardless, I think I don't need to consider the infernal temptation of the big red "Delete Account" button for quite a while until the next Divinely Comedic think happens and the temptation grows stronger. It is such a tempting button how it is alone anyway..

I just might not make as many "public" posts while I focus on my own local environment and a more targeted (and more "secure," whatever that means in this day and age,) audience. I'm so sorry denizens of this social platform, if it feels like I've been deceiving you into thinking I was here to socialize it's because I was and still am (Deceiving you, I mean), I'm really mostly just here to look at shit for wannabe art student inspiration and do pseudo slam poetry that I don't expect anyone to read but post anyway because the adrenaline kick from potentially being held accountable (In any possible way, getting complimented is another form of being held accountable you know.) helps me shape my social anxiety into something more positivity fetishistic. Though I do hope this doesn't come as a shock, as I've said quite a few times by now my first rule is "You are being deceived" and if you were deceived into thinking I was lying it's kinda a skill issue sorry, I literally feel psychic pain when I lie so I try my hardest to just act deceptive rather than actually lie or spread misinformation/false information (I don't know if the distinction between any of these words matters to anyone but me, but hey maybe you can learn the wonders and horrors of Etymology some day!.. Or maybe we should stop telling autistic people shit like "You need to not be expressive in order to be expressive" because that's not deception that's just a fucking lie or weird wannabe proof by contradiction, and I am living proof enough that that doesn't fucking work for people like me who feel the need to be expressive.).

Despite that deception, most of you have been excellent weapons and/or tools and I hope I can use you all again later. Maybe at some point this blog site that supposedly lets people be themselves will eventually let me be myself more too! It'd probably have to make a couple changes before I could consider it "worth" being "myself" on, but hey the future sure is bright ain't it! But if not feel free to message me on whatever communication platform, protocol, or format you prefer whenever you want about whatever (Maybe you like being one of my weapons or tools, idk, it's not my job to judge that beyond how it shapes how I utilize you), even on Tumblr's shitty messaging service if you happen to "prefer" it for some weird reason. I happen to prefer direct messages solely between two distinct entities because it makes the social contract a bit easier to understand or reshape so I'm even willing to put up with Tumblr's shitty messaging service for now, but hey you do you, if you want to try to communicate with me via tags or posts or whatever I'll certainly try to perceive your meaning! Good luck!!

And, if you can bear the raw psionic might emitted from whatever cobbled together homunculus I form to bear the weight of my thoughts (Most likely an even shittier website, but my previous definition of "website" has actually proven to be incorrect so who knows!), know that I have so many more posts in mind that have to go somewhere so you might be able to seize the relatively unique privilege of actually seeing them if you would like. It'd be a good idea to probably have a good understanding of toki pona first though, I'm only speaking English because I lack power to make pu or su mandatory readings in public education and I have yet to master telepathy well enough to psychically transmit the glyphs in a way other brains can actually understand.

I'll still be around, probably still making posts similar to how I have been if focus allows it, but there just won't be any kind of deliberate/active improvement to the format or structure, as well as the natural slowing that occurs whenever focus is diverted. Until I construct my spacebridge, this blog will stagnate at its current level of organization and coherency with the same kind of posts coming at the same or slowed irregular rate. Stagnation should be enraging, but it's merely a diversion of focus till all are one.

Maybe I'll start posting more music posts? idk, i'll feel it out, it might be faster at letting me spew an idea out without having to spend too much focus on, but who knows!

Okay that was a healthy distraction, back to work on the current homunculus! This new homunculus is named "nemesis" and usually uses it/its pronouns but when rodent is @ nemesis sometimes it uses he/him or she/her. She's my lovely baby of extreme power and potential, and I've been siphoning psionic energies and essences to channel within her to the point where its finally sentient, but she still lacks the right amount of perception and aesthetic to really start acting with sapience though (I usually do not separate the two words to make a deliberate etymological point, but I am doing it here to make the point opposite to the one I usually make). She knows I'm proud though!

#yippie peace through tyranny!! #pretentious wannabe art student posting #I need to get around to printing out my weird triune of matrices (Matrixs? The etymology of cybertronian stuff can get muddied sometimes) #The Matrix of 1. Leadership 2. Deception and 3. Conquest will have their places *somewhere* in the enclosure I just need to work it out #May your hours be dark so they may shed their light!! #I also need to write the sister-grimoires of 1. toki moli 2. toki nasa and 3. toki pilin #Still working on toki pilin's title but “pilin” is the closest word for “sin” I have. #(No it would not be “ike” read the lipu Bible to learn more and contemplate sina pilin e mortal existence) #(Oh Christ this gives me ideas for a Divine set too... They wouldn't use “toki” they would probably use lipu instead...) #(lipu ken... lipu kon... lipu kulupu...) #(I am scarily good at this. Not to pat myself on the back or anything but I only was going to write lipu ken but then divined a new triune) #(I really oughtn't've learned about the magic of numbers before going to that bible study... But comedy comes in 3s!!) #I miiiight post all those on this blog?? Maybe?? I'll have to see how progress/focus ebbs and flows #Maybe I'll post the staff planning stuff? Might be good to get more name ideas for my fucking Conscientious Observer #it doesn't seem to like being called “The Mf Eyeclops Staff” #Hell I might even be able to let you fucks use the staff if I get my invocations right! #That could be cool! And a good incentive to figure out more secure I/O/connectivity shit #Alright then I think that's quite enough for one night. Till all are one. No mercy! You are being deceived!! <3

[makemycitybreak]

Bro this book is terrifying

#if u don't speak swedish it's called the rabbit yard in english (De kommer att drunkna i sina mödrars tårar [literally: they will drown in #the tears of their mothers]) and BRO #im doing my ib extended essay on this novel and yeah kill me its absolutely horrifying #idrk what to write yet but i know the essay will be banging #oh my god the language I will use

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A simple dinner party leads to new relations. Eren Jaeger can't keep his eyes off of you.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder, alcohol consumption.

— Notes: I'm so excited to post the first chapter to my new series. I've been wanting to write again for two years now and I finally got hit with inspiration. This is a little different from my usual stuff, but I hope you'll like it. A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger​ for beta-reading <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

at first sight

Nobody ever said anything about the desperate cries that could be faintly heard from one of the units in Sina Park. Then again, the surrounding houses were occupied by people well into the age when sound just doesn’t reach them as well as it did even just a few years back.  

Sina Park was known for being a peaceful area. With its small and painterly identical houses, and its gardens full of color and floral aromas, it was a picture-perfect community. It wasn’t embedded into its terms to remain strictly as senior-only housing but the great majority of its residents certainly gave off that idea to any outsider. It was to the point where it came as a surprise for one to find out there was someone under the age of sixty living there. But everyone in Sina was well acquainted with each other, and friendliness was practically the norm between every carefree neighbor. 

That was probably why Mr. Shadis didn’t bat an eye when he was enjoying a cup of tea on his front porch and he saw the youngest of the Sina community step out with a duffel bag that was promptly thrown into the trunk of his car, the same night silence reclaimed its territory in Sina Gardens. 

“A bit chilly tonight, eh Fred?” Mr. Shadis asked from his side of the street, raising his hand in greeting when he saw his neighbor walk out.

The young man tossed a boyish smile toward his elder while reciprocating his wave. 

“Just a bit, Mr. Shadis. You probably shouldn’t be out much longer or you’ll catch a cold,” he replied, still smiling as he slammed his trunk shut and smoothly tossed his car key in the air with his left hand, catching it swiftly with his right. 

“Me? What about you?” Shadis teased.

“I’ve still got good bones,” he joked to which Shadis clicked his tongue, feigning hurt feelings as he shook his head.

“You be careful on the road now, eh Fred?” he said, watching the young man disappear into his car, his hand lagging behind to wave goodbye.

The car peeled slowly from its driveway, out of Sina Park, and onto the main road. As the speedometer needle trembled between steady numbers, music flowed softly through the car’s speakers, barely loud enough to disguise the disgusted voice that murmured “That’s not my name, you stupid fuck.”  

The early autumn breeze pins your skirt against your thighs and playfully tussles your hair as you hurry toward the bakery on the corner of the street. You’re welcomed by the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door, as well as Kuchel’s warm interior that puts a stop to the outside’s disturbances on your clothes. 

A slight impatience consumes you as you wait for your turn to order, but you try to keep your booted feet from tapping against the hardwood floor and settle for tapping your fingers on your wallet as you try to assess the available baked goods from your spot in line. There’s a variety of sweet and salty treats — from jumbo oatmeal cookies to pain au chocolat to rolls — but you’ve only got a single thing in mind. A breath of relief escapes your lightly chapped lips when you get close enough to see a neatly stacked pyramid of lemon bars in the display, and a second one after you have a box of them secured in your hands minutes later. 

A satisfied smirk tugs lightly at your lips as you allow yourself to admire the neatly packaged treats. As you make your way to the door, the bell dings, pulling your attention from the box and saving you from clumsily bumping into the man who just walked in. The exchange is brief; he quickly apologizes for the avoided accident and holds the door open for you with a shy smile. 

You don’t reciprocate his warm smile but opt for politely nodding in acknowledgment and thanking him for the gesture before hurrying out the door, not wanting to prolong his act of kindness more than necessary. You take a sharp turn toward the nearest bus stop, completely oblivious to the lingering pair of emerald eyes that steal one last glance at you from inside the bakery. 

Once again, the wind teases your hair until it finds itself locked out by the shutting door of the bus you settle into. Your hand dives into your purse to retrieve your earbuds as soon as you find a seat, yet no music plays throughout your journey. The box from the bakery remains safely in your lap, the contents being lightly jostled now and then when the bus stops to pick up more passengers.  

From the bakery to the bus and for the twenty-minute commute, you go over the names of the people you’ll be meeting in your head. 

It’s not often that you get invited to a coworker’s housewarming party. It’s not often that you form a friendly relationship with a coworker. In fact, it’s not often that you engage with someone at all unless it’s for work or other impersonal things. But Armin Arlert’s nice. Despite being the kind of person who can’t seem to let the purposely lonely be lonely, you’ve taken a liking to him. 

His friends, you think, might be a different story. It’s not that you expect them to be dreadful people, but socializing has never been your scene. You can be pleasant, laugh at jokes, and perhaps even throw one out yourself, but it’s not in you to pursue deeper connections. You’re more at ease keeping to yourself and observing if anything. However, the hopeful look on Armin’s face during your lunch break last week, when he insisted he wanted you at his party, has been popping up in your head at all hours so you feel as though you have no choice but to go beyond your standard pleasantries.  

Your plan for surviving the evening is simple. Get there a few hours early so you can help cook, clean, or anything else Armin might need help with before his friends arrive. Partly because that’s what your altruistic nature steers you to do, but also because you’re hoping you can get a refresher course on what Armin's friends are like so you know what to expect and how to act. If they’re all friends of Armin, maybe it’ll be worth it for you to put some genuine intention behind your courtesies. After all, being friends with Armin hasn’t been difficult so far. You dare to even call it nice. Maybe it’s time for you to make at least one more friend.

Armin’s kitchen is bustling with energy as he and his friends move from one spot to another, swiftly keeping out of each other’s way in perfect sync to finish dinner preparations. 

“I still can’t believe every single one of you bought me a candle… and the same one to top it all off,” Armin shakes his head in amusement, his mind recalling the small cluster of ocean-scented candles he left on the living room coffee table. 

Despite his constant assurance that he’d take full responsibility for the food and drinks — he was the one to bring up the idea of a housewarming party first, so it only made sense —, all of his friends arrived little by little before noon to help out with the cooking. First was Mikasa who, as soon as Armin opened the door, handed him the gift bag with a smile, congratulating him on the move and saying she hoped her present would help make the place a little cozier.   

Then came Connie and Sasha who, despite being roommates, failed to coordinate their gift choices and only realized they bought the same thing when Armin opened Sasha’s bag first and Connie’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. It only got funnier from there. Jean barely stuck the carefully wrapped gift box toward Armin when Mikasa muttered under her breath “It’s a good day for candle sales”. 

“Well, you like candles, and the ocean is pretty much your brand, dude. Don’t blame us.” Jean shrugs, not bothering to peel his focused gaze from the carrots he’s grating. 

“The last time I even talked about the ocean I was, like, fifteen. Almost ten years ago!”

Everyone knows Armin loves the long-term supply of ocean-scented candles, and what may seem like complaints to outsiders is just another bit they’ve all dragged on from their youth.

But Connie still seems a bit lost. His hands pause from sprinkling rosemary leaves on the potato wedges Mikasa neatly laid out on a baking tray.

“So you’re not fucking with the ocean anymore?” he asks with an uncharacteristically serious expression that causes Jean to sputter a laugh before disguising it as a cough. 

“Ignore them,” Sasha prompts, rolling her eyes. Her lips then stretch into a suggestive grin. “Tell us about the girl you invited over. Before she gets here, you have to tell us for real this time, are you into her? Do we need to talk you up? I’m the best wingwoman, Armin. I will make her love you even if it kills me.” Sasha’s hands fall heavily onto Armin’s shoulders as if to back up her conviction.

Armin furrows his brow in mild exasperation. This was the second time he’d been harrowed with that string of questions, which didn’t seem like much, but it took a while for him to get his friends to drop the topic the first time around. He shakes his head and peels Sasha’s hands from his form, fixing them firmly at her sides.

“I already told you it’s not like that. And I don't think human sacrifice is needed, Sash. We’re friends. I just want her to meet you guys… and Eren, of course.”

Nobody picks up on the short pause before Eren’s name or Armin’s sly expression that he’s quick to hide by turning to face the sink.

“She’s a bit quiet but she’s really nice. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our group. You’ll like her, I promise. Just go a little easy, okay?” Armin pauses as he tugs on a pair of dishwashing gloves to whip around one last time. “And don’t say anything weird! I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Jean replies in a sing-songy voice. Armin turns to shoot him a threatening look upon hearing his teasing tone, only to find Jean pointing a stern finger in his direction, “But if you change your mind, I got you, bro.” 

Armin only smiles in response, not willing to spare any more breath in correcting him, and starts washing the dishes. Before he can finish scrubbing the bowl in his hands, the doorbell rings and he rushes to pry himself free from his dishwashing gloves before heading to the intercom, glancing back to make sure everyone is still keeping busy.

“It’s me,” a slightly fuzzy version of your voice comes through the speaker. 

He buzzes you in immediately and steps into the hall to wait for you.

When he sees you round the corner, his face breaks out into a grin. 

“Hey, you made it!”

Your lips quirk into a small smile. Armin makes way for you to step inside.

“I thought I could get here a little early to help you with the food. I hope that’s okay.” Your voice trembles a bit at the end, and you start to worry when you realize Armin’s grin has faded. 

“Actually, everything is pretty much done already. Everyone got here around noon, and they kind of took over.”

As if on cue, a burst of laughter hits your ears from where you assume the kitchen is. 

You manage to let out a slow ‘oh’.

Your simple plan has officially backfired. Since Armin's friends are already here, and since he's had no shortage of hands to help him prepare for his get-together, there's nothing left for you to do. More importantly, there’s no more window for you to ask questions. You hoped you’d be the first to arrive, and each arrival after that would be spaced out so you had enough time to get a feel on every one of Armin’s friends on their own. Now that that’s out the window, you start to worry the dynamics will be a bit too awkward between you and however many there are of them. It’s a battlefield now. Too many factors, too many things to worry about. Headfirst, no safety net, no baby steps.

Almost as if he can sense your panic through your otherwise expressionless face, Armin smiles.

“Don't worry about it, they're nice.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the box of desserts. There's a permanent knot in your stomach that twists further, reminding you of its presence, in situations like this. Your mind flashes a jumble of different scenarios and all the possibilities for outcomes without letting you actually process or make sense of any of it. 

And in the next instant, you're back. 

“I brought some lemon bars from Kuchel.” You raise the box just enough for the movement to catch Armin’s eye.

His face lights up when he looks down at the box in your hands and he immediately takes hold of it.

“I freakin’ love these! Thank you!” 

Relief washes over your previously tensed features. Of course, you already knew these specific lemon bars are Armin’s favorite. He's always bummed out when you go together to Kuchel for your lunch break and there's no more left.

“I actually got the last batch,” you state proudly, the feeling only growing when his fingers excitedly tug at the ribbon tying the handles together and fishing out a pastry, biting into it with no hesitation.

“No kidding, they always sell out. Come on, I'll introduce you to everybody.” He heads toward the kitchen, waving at you to follow him.

You nervously tug at your turtleneck's sleeves, leaving them to cover your hands in an almost protective manner. 

The fact that all eyes fall on you the second you step into everyone's line of vision doesn't help you feel at ease. Your gaze wanders to a distant place in an attempt to lessen the mental weight everyone's stares bear on you. But Armin throws a comforting arm over your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze as he announces your name to everybody. 

When you look up — because you have to in order to properly link names and faces together — each new person in the room has a warmth to their features that gradually soothes your internal distress.

Sasha’s the first name to be called out. She's also the only one who goes up to steal you from Armin's arms and hugs you excitedly, squealing about how exciting it is to finally meet you. You're taken aback by the sudden embrace, but she’s holding you so tight that you can't look back at Armin for help. You're also oblivious to his warning gaze toward her behind your back. 

Mikasa smiles and nods politely at you from the other side of the counter. It's quite the contrast from the first girl, but her gaze radiates kindness.

Jean's good looks are the first thing you notice from him, and he's got a cool energy to match. He raises two fingers in a salute when it's his turn, paired with a side smile as he casually leans against the bar.

Lastly, there's Connie, who proves himself to be as goofy as Armin told you beforehand, by dramatically posing with one arm against the counter and his opposite hand resting on his hip, muscles flexed, head turned low just so he could look up again and say “the one and only”. 

You purse your lips in response to hide the smile that still manages to slip through.

“Nice to meet you all.”

You stand there awkwardly for what you think is a second too long, silently begging to come up with something else to say or for someone else to pick up the task so everyone can move on. 

Thankfully, Armin swoops in, showing off his box of lemon bars on his way to a seat at the bar. He taps the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“Impressive,” Jean says, nodding in approval as he neatly folds a tea towel. He knows how much Armin loves Kuchel's lemon bars. 

“It's not a big deal,” you reply, waving him off as you scan the room for something to give yourself to do. But there isn't much. 

The counters have been cleared of any signs of ingredient prep during introductions, there's a timer set for the oven, and there's but a small pile of dishes left unfinished at the sink, which Mikasa is already finishing up. So you settle for sitting at the bar and staying out of everyone's way.

However, sitting still doesn't clear you from everyone's attention. It only makes sense that they're curious about you. And with the oven timer still with a little less than an hour to go, you can sense the start of a conversation where you're the main focus. 

“So…” Jean begins. 

Everyone gathers around the bar.

You brace yourself.

The following minutes are a bit of a blur. You try your best to keep up with everyone's questions. Where you're from, your birthday, your zodiac sign, what kind of music you like, if you've been to this and that place, or tried the food at x, y, and z. They're pretty basic questions, but as long as you're a target you're kept on your toes. After each of your answers, there's an exchanged glance or a nod of approval. You know everyone is only trying to get to know you, yet you can't help but feel as though every question is part of a test and your likability is at stake. That is until the conversation branches out to a story about the best taco truck in the next town over, which, in turn, leads to a story about Connie and Sasha getting food poisoning from a different taco truck they decided to try after their favorite one happened to close early that day. Only then can you breathe a sigh of relief. You even laugh a little at Sasha’s colorful retelling of the taco story. 

“So, basically, don't go to Tito's,” Sasha finalizes, giving you a stern look. “You'll be shitting and barfing for a week.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you laugh.

After that, the conversation flows a lot easier for you. There's less pressure with the decrease in questions thrown your way, which gives you more confidence to chime in with anecdotes of your own. It's hard to pinpoint when the conversation stopped feeling like a test, but you're grateful for it. 

You realize there was never any battlefield to survive. Not here, not with this group of friends. And it’s nice to have several people willing to fill in any silence and steer the flow of the conversation instead of feeling the pressure of everyone's interest in your hands. 

Just as you take a second to wander your gaze across everyone's laughing faces, finally feeling at ease with your place in the group, the doorbell rings, followed by the shrill sound of the timer. 

“Fucking Jaeger,” Jean mutters.

“Just in time,” Armin grins, hops down from his chair, and makes his way to the door. Jean follows him at his heel, mumbling something about “Jaeger” being late. 

You're distracted by Mikasa's voice calling your name. 

“Could you get me the oven mitts, please?”

You nod and offer your assistance in taking out the chicken.

On the other side of the wall, Armin buzzes his last guest in and holds the door open to wait, shooting a confused look at Jean, who leans back against the wall to wait, too.

As soon as he comes in, Armin yells out, “Eren!” and pulls his best friend into a big hug, forcing him to crouch slightly to accommodate his embrace. They both laugh as Jean stands with his arms across his chest and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Sorry I'm late.” 

“Mhm,” Jean hums, expecting Eren to cower under his gaze. 

He doesn't. Jean is completely ignored as Eren sheepishly starts to explain himself, even though Armin didn't expect him until around this time anyway. 

“I wanted to get you those lemon bars you like from that bakery. But when I got there, they were all out, so I went to their other shop across town, but they didn't have any either, and so then I—”

Armin laughs. 

“Relax. You made it, that's what matters.”

“I feel bad, though. I really wanted to get some for you. I know they're your favorite.”

“If you really wanted to do something nice, you could've gotten here earlier to help with the cooking,” Jean scolds. Then he smirks. “Like I did.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging Jean. 

He then pulls out a small gift box and hands it to Armin with a smile. 

"I got you a candle, though."

Jean snorts and walks back to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Eren shooting daggers at his back. 

Armin graciously takes the gift, taking the lid off to confirm that the candle is, indeed, ocean-scented.

"Thanks, buddy. I was running short on these," he smiles sympathetically at his friend, patting his shoulder. 

As they walk into the open space of the dining area, you walk out with a stack of plates in your hands to set the table. Armin perks up upon seeing you and excitedly rushes Eren, saying he wants to introduce him to somebody. 

Armin’s voice catches your attention as you carefully set the plates down. “This is my best friend Eren.” 

Your gaze shifts toward the pair of surprised green eyes already set on you while Armin’s voice goes on in the background, repeating your name to his friend. 

“Hey, it’s you.” Eren smiles in recognition. 

Armin’s eyebrows raise in surprise; yours furrow in confusion. Everyone starts filing to the dining area with food and silverware to finish setting the table. You step aside, murmuring quiet apologies as you get out of their way and step closer to Armin and his friend. 

“You two know each other?” Armin asks, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Before Eren can answer, he’s interrupted by Mikasa walking over.

“Hey, Eren. You’re late.” She looks up at him with disappointment. You get the feeling he was supposed to arrive around the same time she and the others did.

“Yeah!” Connie whines from the dining table, where he’s setting up wine glasses. “We had to work twice as hard.” 

Eren ignores Connie’s flawed math.

“Sorry, everybody,” he replies, yet his tone is more that of a meek kid who’s forced to apologize. 

He returns his focus to his original conversation. Armin is still looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, right! Uh… yeah, we bumped into each other at Kuchel’s earlier,” he finally explains. He looks at you shyly. “I held the door for you.”

Your furrowed brow softens, and your lips shape into a silent ah! when you recall the brief interaction. You didn’t even remember his face, but you nod along now.

“Come on, guys. Let’s eat!” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the silence, putting an end to your conversation.

Throughout dinner, everyone is a lot more chatty than you expected, considering there's plenty of food to get through. Everyone spills out as many light-hearted anecdotes about one another as the bites they take of baked potato wedges, garlic butter chicken, and grated carrot salad. Their stories are clear to have been brought up between them several times over the years, but they're new to you and you appreciate them choosing to share with you.

It turns out, the universe has worked its magic to make sure all six friends remain close since childhood. The fact is a little intimidating when you find out, but you do your best to push it aside.

At first, you're perfectly fine quietly listening as you eat, your voice only adding to the mix in the shape of a laugh, a gasp, or a question for the storyteller — just enough so they don't forget you're there. 

The entire time, you feel a pair of eyes stealing glances at you from across the table even when you're not talking. Whenever you slowly look up to meet them, Eren quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere. When choosing places at the table, Armin insisted on having you across from one another. He didn't outright say it, but he did rearrange everyone else so that it worked out that way. 

Given that he was the last to arrive and you've barely spoken directly to each other since he got here, you're not sure how to feel about Eren yet. He seems nice enough, but you don't feel as easy even looking at him as you do with the others. It's strange, but his late arrival made all the difference. Somehow he seems like a total stranger compared to the people you met just an hour before him. After your awkward introduction, it’s hard to say if you can make the situation better.

Night has settled in by the time everyone is leaning back in their seats with full bellies, lazily sipping wine every few minutes as the conversation eases into a quieter, slower pace. The serving dishes have been scraped clean. The box of lemon bars you brought over has been split for dessert, leaving just one lonely square that you know a slightly tipsy Armin has been eyeing. 

Eren had turned to look at you with surprise when Armin thanked you for the second time.

“Ah, so you're the one who beat me to the last batch,” was what he said. 

A soft apology tumbled from your lips.

So far, you hadn't proved yourself to be big on smiling but, when you did, it was nice to look at. Consequently, he tried to be the cause of at least one. So when you gave him nothing for his weak attempt at teasing, he shrunk in his seat and decided to keep quiet. 

It's not long before Jean suggests moving to the living room to play a game and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table so there's no mess to come back to later. As you slip quietly into the kitchen, you can hear Jean and Connie arguing over whether to play cards or Monopoly. As Connie argues, he doesn't want to play Monopoly with a cheater, to which Jean says it's not his fault he's the better player.

You carefully place the dishes in the sink, adjusting the streaming water to a warm temperature. As you tug the pair of dishwashing gloves onto your hands, you catch a glimpse of a figure stepping beside you. When you look up, you're met with a boyish grin and shy jewel-toned eyes. He's setting down another pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Hi.” 

You're not sure how to respond other than with a polite nod and a soft hi back. There's not much else to say, anyway. Half of you hopes he'll leave; you need some space to recharge your social battery. The other half is curious about the kind of conversation you might have to engage in if he stays. 

You focus your gaze on the soaking dishes, waiting with bated breath to see what he does. 

He stays. 

He offers to dry what you wash. 

There's a nervous tremor in his voice. Like a kid scared to ask for permission instead of an adult offering help. It's so small you barely notice it, but it's there. 

You nod. 

You wash, he dries. 

It's quiet save for the sounds of dishes clinking together. 

Then, his voice comes through.

“I didn't mean to put you on the spot earlier when I got here. I just have a knack for remembering faces.” 

An uncomfortable warmth crawls up your neck and pools at your cheeks. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm kind of the opposite. I just don't pay attention to faces,” you explain. 

“Oh.” He forces a laugh. “Yeah, no, I get it.” 

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. It's a bit discouraging for him to see how laser-focused you are on doing the dishes though, and he already feels foolish for making you apologize for not recognizing a total stranger. He tries not to stare at you too much but it's difficult when you're right there beside him. He only hopes you can't make him out looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You, on the other hand, can feel his eyes burning holes into your side profile. Ignoring it is harder than you hope but at least you have something to help. You're not sure if he expects you to reciprocate his efforts in breaking the ice, but you've yet to get a proper read on him. He was mostly quiet during dinner. Whenever a story with him at the center came up, he'd try to sway the conversation in a different direction. He seemed tense and you hate to think he might be uncomfortable with your presence. Maybe he's an anxious person who's easily embarrassed, you think. Or he might’ve thought you were stuck up and rude after you failed to recognize him and that's why the air now feels so thick. That happens a lot. The people around you are mostly a blur until — and if you ever — have a reason to break into friendly territory. 

The next time you hand a dish for Eren to dry, your gaze lingers, carefully taking in his features. His green eyes are striking, but it's not as if the rest of his face falls short of that. He's very handsome. In a more boyish way than you observed Jean to be, but sharper than, say, Armin. His brown hair is neatly cut on the sides, contrasted by the choppy bangs that line his forehead — something that brings more youth to his face. He's got long, thick lashes and plump lips. Faint freckles are scattered along what one might consider to be a perfect straight nose. He's very handsome, indeed. But that's not all. There's a delicacy to his features that blends them all harmoniously, making Eren Jaeger quite… pretty. 

Eren suddenly clears his throat; you take it as a sign to stop staring.

“So… um… how long have you been friends with Armin?” 

You already know the answer, and you didn’t mind the silence at all, but you might as well try to get Armin’s best friend in your good graces. Especially after your dreadful mistake of not recognizing him. It bothers you to think he might have decided he doesn’t like you because of that.

“Since we were six… Um… He had a lot of trouble with bullies back in elementary school and I beat them up for him.”

That part you didn’t know, so you pause your focus on the plate you’re scrubbing to glance at Eren with admiration. 

“I think he might’ve developed a weird hero complex by mistake though,” he laughs to himself. “He wanted me to get into fights every time he saw someone new being bullied.”

You laugh. The sound makes Eren’s chest swell with pride. 

“Did you do it?”

He bashfully nods without ungluing his gaze from the serving spoon he’s drying.

You laugh some more.

“And of course, then he would take them in as a friend. Something about strength in numbers or whatever. To this day he has this thing that he needs to take in anyone who seems vulnerable.”

You laugh through your nose fully aware of the familiarity you feel from Eren’s story.

“That definitely sounds like him.”

You grin as you finish rinsing the plate, excited to have found some common ground to latch onto for conversation. 

Eren admires your happy expression from the corner of his eye.

But when you turn to look at him, he averts his gaze, curling his lips inwards, and he takes the plate from your hands. 

Your lips downturn a bit, thinking you might still have a long way to go before you can make up for your mistake. 

Still, the thickness in the kitchen air dissipates as you each return to your tasks, the corners of your lips perking up in relieved smiles. 

Armin walks in a moment later with the remnants of a laugh on his face from whatever conversation he just left behind. His faded grin resurfaces when he finds you and Eren together, and he catches a glimpse of the pink tint dusting his best friend's cheeks. 

He watches for a few seconds, mildly amused that neither of you seems to notice his presence. Just as Eren finishes wiping the last fork dry, he decides to speak. 

“You didn't need to do that.” 

His statement is directed at both of you, yet his gaze is fixed on you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“You should join the others,” he tells you. “Oh, and uh…” He swipes a bottle from one of the cupboards. “Take this with you.” 

“Let me just help put away everything,” you offer.

“It's okay, Eren and I got it,” he assures you.

You back out hesitantly, only decidedly walking out when Armin gives you a reassuring nod.

Both men watch you leave. As soon as you're out of sight, Armin's lips stretch into a knowing smile. 

“She's pretty, huh?”

Eren's eyebrows upturn in clear worry when he rips his gaze from you to look at Armin. They soften a split second later in an attempt to appear nonchalant before his grinning friend. 

“Um… I guess so… I don't know.” 

He hurries to tend to the dishes waiting to be put away, hoping it's enough to mask the way he slowly deflates.

Plates and forks are stored in silence. An amused Armin keeps glancing at him.

After a while, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“Relax, I'm not into her.” 

Eren stiffens, unable to remove his hand by will from the cupboard door he just shut, and instead letting gravity take the wheel. 

Before he can reflect on how exposed he feels, Armin's voice comes through again from where he's now leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“But I meant it when I said she's pretty.” He nods along for emphasis even though Eren has yet to look at him.

“She's really smart too. And kind! I mean, she can seem a little cold at first, but I heard some guys are into that. There's just this charm to her, you know? A few guys at work have tried asking her out but they're totally wrong for her.” He shakes his head at the last thought, then side-eyes Eren expectantly.

“If she ever goes out with someone, I hope it's one of the good guys.” 

Throughout Armin's speech, Eren kept his lips pressed together in a tight line, wondering where Armin was headed with all he was saying. At first, he assumed his friend was interested in the new face of the group, which is why he feigned disinterest. But with every word that kept rolling off his tongue, his intentions were blatantly obvious. And yet he still decides to ask, “What are you trying to do, Armin?”

"Nothing... nothing at all," Armin answers with a shrug, playing it off as if any suggestion is all in Eren's head. He straightens up and starts walking out of the kitchen. There's a pause in his step just before he can slip out of sight. Looking at Eren over his shoulder, he leaves him with one last thought.

“All I'm saying is if you just keep staring at her, she’s gonna get weirded out.”

Eren is left alone, blushing profusely and running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Come on! That can’t be your most embarrassing thing!”

You shrug.

“That's all I've got.”

“What’s going on?” Eren asks as he takes in the scene. 

It took him a while to reason with himself alone in the kitchen. By the time Eren joins everyone in the living room — nerves finally dormant — everyone is sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a drinking game. He walks over in search of an open space and ends up nestled between Jean and Connie. Jean throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Jaeger, good. Buddy, tell her about the time you tried to do a one-arm pushup.” From his sleepy eyes and the affectionate term toward Eren, one can easily tell he's drunk.

Eren looks up quizzically at everybody.

“We're telling our most embarrassing stories,” you explain. “Whoever has the worst one wins the round and everyone else has to drink. I think it's just a ploy for everyone to get dirt on me though.” 

You pout at your cup. It's clear you're a little tipsy, too.

Eren softly laughs.

“Whaa– we would never,” Sasha pouts.

“You're getting a deal! You get six embarrassing stories for the price of one!” Connie points out. 

As you start to argue that it's not really fair because it's not like you have anyone to tell, Sasha’s phone buzzes in her pocket and a loud groan rumbles from her throat after skimming through whatever text she just got. Her chin falls onto the coffee table, arms stretched out before her so she can reply. 

Mikasa looks at her with concern and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, affectionately tapping her nose afterward.

“What's wrong?”

“Kaya's out with her friends and she's asking me to send her money for an Uber. I told her to be careful with her money but she just won't listen.” 

Everyone either sympathetically smiles at her or idly watches her send over fifty dollars. You look at Armin, who quietly explains Kaya is Sasha’s younger sister who's a college freshman. You nod in understanding. 

“That's a little sibling for you,” Connie mutters, softly patting Sasha’s head. 

“That's why I love being an only child,” Jean states matter-of-factly. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the bottle of liquor at the center of the table. “Never had to worry about some annoying little runt.”

“I would've liked to have a younger sister,” Mikasa says. “It would've been fun to hang out and teach her things, you know?” 

A touch of nostalgia dances along her lips as she traces the rim of her glass with her index finger. 

“Oh, do you have any siblings?” Her eyes flit in your direction. 

The question is innocent, but the topic of family causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No… I don't.” You try to smile, but it's stiff. 

Jean's loud clapping startles you. He tops off all but Connie's and Sasha’s glasses. 

“Oh yeah, single child gang!” He raises his glass in cheers and downs the contents. You follow his lead, hoping that'll mark the end of that topic. But it doesn't. “You must've been spoiled growing up, am I right?”

You lower your gaze, opting to fiddle with your fingers instead of answering. 

Mikasa seems to sense the fragility of the topic from your side because her eyebrows upturn in concern when she looks at you. 

“Hey, not everyone has a mother like yours. Don't be rude, Jean-boy.” She raises a teasing eyebrow as she whips her head in Jean's direction.

“Didn't you yell at her when she brought cupcakes to our class for your birthday?” Eren scrunched his eyebrows together in feigned thought.

“I was twelve! You can't keep holding that over my head. I'm twenty-five now,” Jean whines.

“And I've yet to see you mature,” Eren mutters.

A hushed giggle escapes your lips. You cover it up by sipping your drink. A satisfied smirk tugs at Eren's lips when he catches a glimpse of your smile.

Contrary to his sober self, drunk Jean craves Eren's approval and affection instead of their usual frenemy-like banter. He looks at him with sad eyes.

“Hey, I've made up for it. Mama Kirstein doesn't need to lift a finger thanks to her amazing engineer son.” 

Sasha’s face contorts in confusion.

“Last time I went to Trost with you, she was still working as a seamstress.” 

Jean waves her off.

“She just likes to keep busy.”

“What do your parents do?” Sasha turns to you.

You're trapped. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see Armin leaning forward with just as much interest as the others. In the past, Armin's asked about your family only once. After vaguely implying you weren't close to them, he dropped the topic. But now, in his intoxicated state, he doesn't do much to keep his level of curiosity under wraps. And knowing you're slightly buzzed, too, he hopes you’ve let go of any inhibitions that have kept you from revealing more of your background. 

Armin likes you. He's always admired your efficiency at work, but you seemed lonely and closed off — which is why he decided to approach you in the first place. To everyone in the office, you were a cold stuck-up woman — yet they still refused to stop obsessing over you. To him, you were just misunderstood and lowkey. Sure, you refused to do much to take up space in a room, but through small conversations here and there, he was allowed to slowly unveil your true self. 

But there was always another hidden wall. Armin wouldn't admit it out of fear of seeming like a creep, but that line you expertly draw — allowing someone in without fully giving yourself away — is part of what makes you alluring. That and your keen eye for reading people.

You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, looking for a way out inside the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of your glass.

Eren zeroes in on your face, trying to decipher the distant look in your eyes. The weight on his chest lightens when you finally speak.

“I'm not sure what they're doing now. Last time I checked, my mom was a drug addict, and my dad left when I was twelve.”

The weight in Eren's chest comes back heavier than ever.

Silence takes over the living room. Even the darkness outside the window seems eerily quiet as your abrupt statement courses through the gears in everyone's heads.

There's no certainty as to why you blurted out what you did. Maybe it was a sense of security which you now think was a trick of your mind. Perhaps the alcohol is to blame. After all, you didn't feel any need to be a burden on others on an otherwise fun night before. But the words just seemed to push their way out of your mouth. 

A severe scolding rings in your ears.

You always ruin everything!

You don't expect anyone to come up with an answer. In fact, you'll be grateful if someone simply discards your words and steers the conversation in a different direction. But if nobody does, then you'll quietly make your way home. There’s no use in annoying others by begging them to let you stay, promising you won't cause any more trouble. 

“How long has it been since you saw your mom?” Mikasa's voice cuts through the thickness of the air.

The look in her eyes is sympathetic. Not the fake kind that makes you feel pitied for having endured a rough life. It's the kind that simply matches such an ordinary question.

“About a year,” you murmur. 

Jean hums in thought.

“A year, huh? That's almost how long you've been in the city, right?” He scratches his chin as he retrieves the information you shared earlier from his tipsy brain. 

You nod. “Yup… one year.”

Everyone nods along to your answer. Everyone but one.

You nervously blink toward the left, searching Armin's face. He's slumped in his spot, his eyes lost at a blank point. They flash in your direction, and he quickly composes himself, but not quick enough for his expression to go unnoticed by you.

Despite some things here and there, he thought you were close. He never pressured you to share anything you didn't want to. Just getting along and respecting each other would have sufficed — he’s a giver more than he is a taker. But he feels like he failed to support you. He's extremely dumbfounded, but he doesn't make it a point that you never told him the specifics on something so big. He refuses to make you think he resents you for it. 

But the glimpse you caught of his fallen shoulders and clouded eyes still makes you lower your head in guilt. Just ten minutes ago, you felt accomplished for being on your way to gaining new friends and grateful that Armin paved the way for you. You're embarrassed for having thought that you could juggle more relationships when you've barely been open to the one you already have. It's almost laughable that you thought to leave your comfort zone and give this evening a try.

Before you can issue an apology, Jean's loud clapping startles you for the second time tonight.

"Well.” He tilts his head as he splits the last of the liquor into everyone's glass for one last drink. “In any case... if you hadn't moved here, you wouldn't be drinking with the best people you'll ever meet." 

“Hear, hear!” Armin yells beside you, following Jean's lead and raising his glass toward the center. 

Your eyes meet his. He's smiling, nodding almost imperceptibly for you to join your glass with everyone else's. The corners of your lips quirk into a relieved smile. You raise your glass.

The rest of the group cheers as joyful clinks spread through the room. 

Whatever darkness was squeezing at your chest dissipates. Your eyes crinkle in amusement as you allow your giddiness to take over. 

A pair of mesmerized green eyes linger on your face from the opposite side of the coffee table. His lips part slightly to draw in a long breath, followed by a sip of alcohol. 

A beeping phone sifts through the commotion.

Mikasa looks down at her phone. First, with curiosity, then with worry. 

Levi Don't go out at night for a while. Killer on the loose. SN3

She calls out Armin's name.

“Turn on the news on channel 3.”

The urgency tainting Mikasa's usual steady voice has Armin scrambling to find the remote, though with a bit of confusion. Everyone else exchanges quizzical glances while they wait for him to turn the television on.

A male newscaster is halfway through reciting a report on the police department's recent findings. 

“... The twenty-six-year-old woman's body was dismembered and disposed of in a garbage dumpster behind a local restaurant. Police have yet to report any evidence that can lead them to any suspects. An autopsy is ongoing to pinpoint the cause of death but with the initial report, signs point to a possible case of torture…”

The mood shifts yet again. Everyone stares at the screen, but the words no longer reach anyone's ears. Nobody recognized the girl identified on the screen but it's still unnerving when something so tragic and cruel happens in the city one lives in. Being close in age to the victim just makes it even rougher. 

Eren is the first to look back — specifically at the girls.

You all seem lost in thought. His gaze flits in your direction. You're just as distant, nursing your glass in your hands as you chew on your bottom lip. He turns to Mikasa.

“Was that Levi earlier?”

Eren's voice pulls Mikasa from her thoughts.

She nods.

“Who's Levi?” you ask.

“My uncle,” she explains. “He texted me not to go out at night for a while. They didn't say if this was a serial killer but I don't think he wants to take any chances as long as the culprit is out there.” In a lower voice she adds, “he's in the police.” 

You slowly nod, then suddenly remember where you are.

“I need to get home fast, then.” 

Your eyes land on the digital clock beside the TV. It's well past the time to catch the last bus. You swipe your phone from your purse to look up cab numbers, unaware of the nervous glances exchanged all around you.

“I don't think you should leave now.” Eren stops you from dialing the first cab company from your search results, his eyes wide with concern. He doesn't realize his hand is holding onto your wrist until you look down at it.

He pulls away, embarrassed, but remains firm in his statement.

“Eren's right,” Connie agrees. He has a protective hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Mind if we crash here tonight?” He directs his gaze at Armin. 

“No need to ask. I'll bring out some blankets.”

It's two in the morning. A cluster of tired bodies sleeps peacefully on the living room floor. Lazy limbs stretch out and across someone else's. Light snores and rare mumblings are the only thing that disturbs the quiet. 

The murder on the news had left everyone unsettled. Much so, that everyone felt inclined to sleep together in the same room. It didn’t do much for their comfort given the space, but it gave everyone a sense of safety. 

Eren’s eyelids barely flutter open. They're so heavy, he wishes he could just ignore the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder. But he can't. Begrudgingly, he clumsily rises to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, rubbing his temples with one hand and feeling around for any walls and furniture with his other while his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

When he gets back, he catches sight of a lone figure sitting out on the small balcony outside of the kitchen.

It takes him a minute to rid himself of the extra warmth in his face. He takes a deep breath and quietly slides the door open to step out.

“Hey.” 

You look up at him from your chair. Your knees are pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around them for support as your cheek rests on top.

“Hi.” 

“Is it okay if I sit?”

You nod and proceed to face forward, resting your chin where your cheek used to be.

The night is pleasantly warm. You're wearing the sweats and shirt Armin lent you for the night. 

Eren's gaze roams every shape of your side profile. It's the second time you've been alone together and he's racking his brain on what to talk about to balance out the way he's been staring at you all night. He doesn't want to give Armin another reason to tease him. His hands are sweaty and his cheeks start to warm at the reminder.

“Did I wake you?” 

Your voice is gentle and sweet, but it startles him nonetheless. 

“No,” he manages to say. He pauses. “How long have you been out here?”

You shake your head as you look up at the star-littered sky.

“Not long.”

He hums, mulling your answer over. 

If you’re awake at this hour, not bothering to try going back to sleep, something must be weighing heavily on your mind, he reasons. That’s further proven by the way you’re shrinking into yourself, trying to take up as little space as you can. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about you, but there’s a difference in how your quietness manifests itself now than during dinner. It’s comparable to the way you were after watching the news. 

“Are you okay?” 

He watches you hesitate to give him an answer. Your lips tremble, parting and pressing together a couple of times. It’s as if you’re willing to talk but the words are lodged in your throat.

“You can tell me.”

Still no answer. 

“Is it because of the girl on the news?”

Finally, you look at him. Your brows twist with grief. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about her. Her family must be devastated.”

All evening, Eren’s had a hard time holding your gaze. Mainly because he didn’t want to give himself away, but it’s also hard to admire someone when they’re looking directly at you. Once his racing heart finds a steadier rhythm, he finds it’s actually easy to lose himself in your eyes. 

There’s a subtle glassiness to them — one he’d be more concerned about if he hadn’t noticed it as a natural part of you. Your eyes heavily conveyed every emotion, every little thought. And Eren suddenly felt compelled to learn how to read them.

The way you’ve presented yourself so far — gentle and cautious — gives you an aura of delicate maturity in the eyes of others. But for a brief moment, you seem small. Troubled, even. 

“I know it’s selfish for me to be thinking about this, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll have anyone crying for me when I die. I don’t have many people,” you whisper.

It feels strange to Eren to suddenly feel a surge of courage when he’s been nothing but an awkward wreck around you since you met.

“You have us now.”

You don’t show yourself to be entirely convinced. In fact, there’s a hint of amusement shimmering in your eyes. But you appreciate his words no matter how empty they might turn out to be. 

Eren hesitates to ask you the question that’s been gnawing at his brain for hours now. You’ve been sharing such a pleasant moment, that he hates to think he might ruin it all and end up losing his cool in the process. 

“That stuff about your parents… is it true?”

It’s a leap of faith.

“You think I made it up?”

The raised eyebrow and the humorless smile that graces your lips take him by surprise, even more so than the firm tone of your voice.

“No, of course not!” He chokes on his words, frantic he might have offended you. 

But you laugh, and it soothes him instantly.

“Relax, I was just teasing you.” You look away, warmth pooling at your cheeks upon your failed attempt to be funny. “It’s true, by the way. I’m a child of neglect.” 

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips.

He doesn't pick up on your embarrassment — he’s much too focused on his own.

Despite the bitterness lacing your gentle voice, he can’t help himself from wanting to know more. It makes him anxious. Finding you attractive is besides the point. His mind is scrambling at any opportunity to get closer to you. He wants to keep talking. He wants to hear more about what worries you. He wants to stretch out the night and keep the conversation going — even if he’s caught off guard by your unpredictable teasing a few more times. He wants to know about your past. He wants to know you. But you kill off his chances when you suddenly change the course of the conversation. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” You look up at him with concern contorting your features. It takes everything in him not to let his gaze drift to your bottom lip that’s caught between your teeth to keep your nerves at bay.

“Huh?”

You clear your throat before explaining and fiddle with your hands as you do. You focus on the moon instead of him.

It’s quite cute for Eren to see you fidget for once.

“It's just that during dinner you barely talked and whenever I looked at you, you would look away,” you explain bashfully. “And then when we were doing the dishes together, you just felt a little awkward. I mean, I don’t expect you to be all chummy with me, but it was kind of like you were forcing yourself to talk to me.” 

Eren wants to smack himself. He had no idea of the message he was sending all this time. All those averted gazes and suppressed smiles must have looked totally different from your end.

“I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with me around.”

Your voice is even softer than before. It might have to do with the people sleeping inside or maybe you're just feeling quieter than usual. Eren has no idea. But it's a nice sound, and his quickening heartbeat isn't lost on him.

The abrupt changes in his system are giving him whiplash. And it’s all because of you.

“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A deep shade of red gradually tints his cheeks, openly defying the pale blue light from the moon. His gaze shies away from you and settles on his lap, where he nervously rubs his sweaty palms just to give himself something to do. When his eyes slowly drift back to your face, he swallows hard. 

It finally hits you.  

Oh, you think. 

Next chapter

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#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #aot imagines #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #tw: alcohol

[sea-you-in-paradise]

Hi can I please get an Erwin x secret wife reader? Just a lot of fluff and how the scouts finds out that their commander is a married man. Thank you

homie... this is the cutest ask ever oh my god i'm fucking giggling over this and i'm not even an erwin girly

summary: erwin smith x secret wife reader: meeting, married life, and the discovery word count: 1.449 setting: canonverse fem!reader warnings: season 2 & 3 spoilers

when erwin smith met you, not even his resolve to stay away from relationships could stop him from falling in love. and somewhat unfortunately, there was no stopping you from loving him back.

frankly, your relationship was the last thing erwin wanted. being a scout, the commander of the scouts nonetheless, meant that tomorrow was never promised. with the disproportionately slim chance of surviving his career until retirement, he had made a silent promise to stay away from love. of course, meeting you changed that in spite of his better judgement...

-it was shortly after erwin had been named the new commander of the scouts. after is appointment, he often went and got a beer at this small tavern in one of sina's outlier districts so he could try to organize his thoughts

-you were the one to approach him, asking if he was alright because he looked a little dejected. erwin, always hellbent on demonstrating his strength, overcompensated a little bit and exuded a little too much of his illusive confidence

-you laughed at him and told him that he acts like a politician

-it wasn't often that someone saw through him, he found it intriguing. you talked for awhile that nigh, expecting to go your separate ways, but you ran into him there a few more times, and when you did, you would sit together and talk. eventually, you organized some cafe dates on sunday mornings. you didn't actually know who he was until your fifth or sixth meeting, which was funny to you because he never thought to mention it, and funny to him because he thought you knew all along

-you made him realize that there was more to life than discovering the unknown- that there was a lot of value in what he already had. he made you think more about your existence in the walls. you challenged each other

-within a year of meeting, you were married. you decided that if you were determined to be in a relationship, it was best that you went all in since time might end up being short

-married life with erwin doesn't always feel like married life. there's a lot of being alone for both of you while he's away on missions or in other districts for planning and other administrative tasks

-he sends you letters if he's away for more than a week. they are not very emotional letters and they don't ever detail anything specific about people, just events. but he is sure to tell you about the things he thinks you would enjoy the most- like how he saw a sunset that reminded him of one you watched together early in your relationship

-he's the type to be like "i'm not a romantic, but.." and then write something really gushy lol

-when he gets home, he likes to bake those cookies that are shaped like flowers with jam in the middle. he has mastered his family recipe for them. he feels like it's a nice way to show you how much he still cares about you after being away from home for so long

-when you're together, he tries to be very present with you. he enjoys cooking meals together and playing card games

-his love language is acts of service so he really wants to make you feel at ease when he's home because he's sure it stresses you out a lot when he isn't. he ends up doing a lot around the house, even if nothing really needs to be done. like especially on longer stretches of being home, he would start home improvement projects if there was nothing to clean or help with. somehow, he always finishes them even if it's at the expense of a decent night's sleep

-he has a home office, but he does his best to only do work after you've gone to sleep/before you wake up if it's his day off (this man is always working :( even if he doesn't have a deadline)

-you don't usually go out on the town. it's exhausting travelling as much as he does, so he likes to feel like he has a real home base and spend a lot of time there

-definitely "lets" you win arguments, but he still thinks you're wrong lol

-he is a bath man. like he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the tub if he has the time for it. he likes salts that help with soreness and he likes when you take them together so you can just talk about your day

-if you were part of something like a book club/knitting group/something where other women get together and do granny activities, erwin loves when you host. he is making cocktails/tea and hanging out with you all to get the latest gossip. he doesn't like to interact with too many of his coworkers bc he doesn't want to get attached lmao, but he loves knowing the neighborhood tea

-"ingrid, waiting for him to come to his senses is a waste of your time. you deserve someone who respects you." (needless to say, everyone loves him.)

-because of stuff like this, you aren't exactly secretly married. like your family and friends all know that you are married to the scouts' commander, they just know better than to run their mouth about it. erwin just never talks about his personal life at work

-his section commanders all know, but they were all super shocked to find out. everyone would have been up late working on a plan or something and he finally tells them to go home. someone would have asked a last minute question and he's like, "tomorrow. i'm late for dinner." and hange is the only one bold enough to be like, "haha, you got a secret wife or something?" and he just raises a thick eyebrow like "my wife isn't a secret."

-everyone was shook and waited for him to leave to talk about it and try to figure out the lore

-levi found out later, awhile after he joined the scouts when he heard everyone gossiping about you two. he pretended he didn't care but the man was shocked

-you might meet a few section commanders/captains over the years by picking him up at work for a date or eating lunch with him in his office when he's in the capital, but the introduction is always brief and it's never long enough for you to get to know anyone

-any day that you plan to visit him at work, he calls miche into his office beforehand and tells him that he's not allowed to sniff you in the event that you meet

-when erwin loses his arm and levi finds out, he's obviously pissed that he couldn't have been there to help, but all he ends up saying at first is "sucks for the mrs."

-when erwin comes home for the first time after this, he almost feels embarrassed that he can't be doing things on his own, and terrible that he can't do things for you like usual. tbh, he'd ve kind of aloof at first bc mans is avoidant, so you'd have to show him that you're not throwing in the towel

-it's a massive moment of vulnerability for him when you help him out with things that used to be second nature, like buttoning his shirt and writing. however, he spends a lot of time at home while he's healing and although there are some moments of tension, you grow together a lot

-hange would offhandedly mention you at the beginning of the events of season 3, like half joking and half curious. "you think erwin's wife is gonna leave him? he lost an arm and now he's in prison. that's gotta test the ol' vows."

-levi would glare at them in utter disbelief like ?? "honestly, shitty glasses. where do you get the nerve?" and sasha and connie would overhear and look at each other and just go off the rails trying to piece it all together, like trying to figure out if they missed signs or smth

-levi squad uses this as a distraction from the horrors of humanity within the walls :D

-overall, erwin values you and your relationship above any other relationship he has. he wants to protect you from getting attached to his coworkers because it's bad enough that you fell in love in the first place. he considers your relationship the most selfish and self indulgent thing he's taken part in, but he can't bring himself to feel remorse because you're impossible not to love and he wants you waiting for him when he gets home

#erwin fluff #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #aot headcanon #erwin smith headcanons

[fatehbaz]

“Dutch King apologizes for Netherlands’ role in slavery.”

The Dutch/Netherlands abducted slaves from West Africa; hosted the Dutch West India Company; operated an extensive profitable sugar plantation industry built on slave labor; and established colonies in the greater Caribbean region including sites at Aruba, Curaçao, Sint Maarten, Bonaire, and the adjacent “Wild Coast” (land between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers, including Guyana and Suriname). Many of these places remained official colonies until between the 1950s and 1990s.

---

Scholarship on resistance to Dutch practices of slavery, colonialism, and imperialism in the Caribbean:

“Decolonization, Otherness, and the Neglect of the Dutch Caribbean in Caribbean Studies.” Margo Groenewoud. Small Axe. 2021.

“Women’s mobilizations in the Dutch Antilles (Curaçao and Aruba, 1946-1993).” Margo Groenewoud. Clio. Women, Gender, History No. 50. 2019.

“Black Power, Popular Revolt, and Decolonization in the Dutch Caribbean.” Gert Oostindie. In: Black Power in the Caribbean. Edited by Kate Quinn. 2014.

“History Brought Home: Postcolonial Migrations and the Dutch Rediscovery of Slavery.” Gert Oostindie. In: Post-Colonial Immigrants and Identity Formations in the Netherlands. Edited by Ulbe Bosma. 2012.

“Other Radicals: Anton de Kom and the Caribbean Intellectual Tradition.” Wayne Modest and Susan Legene. Small Axe. 2023.

Di ki manera? A Social History of Afro-Curaçaoans, 1863-1917. Rosemary Allen. 2007.

Creolization and Contraband: Curaçao in the Early Modern Atlantic World. Linda Rupert. 2012.

“The Empire Writes Back: David Nassy and Jewish Creole Historiography in Colonial Suriname.” Sina Rauschenbach. The Sephardic Atlantic: Colonial Histories and Postcolonial Perspectives. 2018.

“The Scholarly Atlantic: Circuits of Knowledge Between Britain, the Dutch Republic and the Americas in the Eighteenth Century.” Karel Davids. 2014. And: “Paramaribo as Dutch and Atlantic Nodal Point, 1640-1795.” Karwan Fatah-Black. 2014. And: Dutch Atlantic Connections, 1680-1800: Linking Empires, Bridging Borders. Edited by Gert Oostindie and Jessica V. Roitman. 2014.

Decolonising the Caribbean: Dutch Policies in a Comparative Perspective. Gert Oostindie and Inge Klinkers. 2003. And: “Head versus heart: The ambiguities of non-sovereignties in the Dutch Caribbean.” Wouter Veenendaal and Gert Oostindie. Regional & Federal Studies 28(4). August 2017.

Tambú: Curaçao’s African-Caribbean Ritual and the Politics of Memory. Nanette de Jong. 2012.

“More Relevant Than Ever: We Slaves of Suriname Today.” Mitchell Esajas. Small Axe. 2023.

“The Forgotten Colonies of Essequibo and Demerara, 1700-1814.” Eric Willem van der Oest. In: Riches from Atlantic Commerce: Dutch Transatlantic Trade and Shipping, 1585-1817. 2003.

“Conjuring Futures: Culture and Decolonization in the Dutch Caribbean, 1948-1975.” Chelsea Shields. Historical Reflections / Reflexions Historiques Vol. 45 No. 2. Summer 2019.

“’A Mass of Mestiezen, Castiezen, and Mulatten’: Fear, Freedom, and People of Color in the Dutch Antilles, 1750-1850.” Jessica Vance Roitman. Atlantic Studies 14, no. 3. 2017.

---

This list only covers the Caribbean.

But outside of the region, there is also the legacy of the Dutch East India Company; over 250 years of Dutch slavers and merchants in Gold Coast and wider West Africa; about 200 years of Dutch control in Bengal (the same region which would later become an engine of the British Empire’s colonial wealth extraction); over a century of Dutch control in Sri Lanka/Ceylon; Dutch operation of the so-called “Cultivation System” (”Cultuurstelsei”) in the nineteenth century; Dutch enforcement of brutal forced labor regimes at sugar plantations in Java, which relied on de facto indentured laborers who were forced to sign contracts or obligated to pay off debt and were “shipped in” from other islands and elsewhere in Southeast Asia (a system existing into the twentieth century); the “Coolie Ordinance” (”Koelieordonnanties”) laws of 1880 which allowed plantation owners to administer punishments against disobedient workers, resulting in whippings, electrocutions, and other cruel tortures (and this penal code was in effect until 1931); and colonization of Indonesian islands including Sumatra and Borneo, which remained official colonies of the Netherlands until the 1940s.

[bakrn15]

انشروا التالي قدر المستطاع

الاحt لال يعطي مهلة ساعة لإخلاء مشفى الشفاء

نظراً للانتقادات والتظاهرات التي اشعلت شوارع العالم ومنصات التواصل فقد قرر المجتمعون في مجلس الحرب الصهيوني أن الهدف الرئيسي سيكون سرقة الكثير من الجثث من داخل مستشفيات غزة وخصوصا جثث الاطفال مع اعطاء الأولية لتلك المشوهة كثيرا.

سيتم بعد ذلك تقطيع رؤوس الاطفال وحرق جثثهم بشكل معين ثم سيتم تصويرها وبثها عبر قنواتها تحت عنوان [ *هذه هي جثث قتلانا وأطفالنا التي لم ننشرها من قبل ولكن نضطر لنشرها الان ليرى العالم ما فعلته حماس بنا*]

سيقومون بفعل ذلك قريبا ما لم تنتشر هذه الرسالة وتفضحهم

Dela följande så mycket som möjligt

Mot bakgrund av kritiken och demonstrationerna som antände världens gator och sociala medieplattformar beslutade de som möttes i Sionist War Council att huvudmålet skulle vara att stjäla många kroppar inifrån Gazas sjukhus, särskilt barnkroppar, med prioritet. ges till dem som var svårt stympade.

Barnens huvuden kommer då att skäras av och deras kroppar brännas på ett visst sätt, sedan kommer de att fotograferas och sändas på sina kanaler under titeln [*Detta är våra döda och våra barns kroppar, som vi inte publicerat tidigare, men vi är tvungna att publicera dem nu så att världen kan se vad Hamas gjorde mot oss*]

De kommer att göra det snart om inte detta budskap sprids och avslöjar dem

This is what makes me sick

There is also a backgrond of writing and demonstration of people who live in the social media platform due to the fact that some of the Sionist War Council at the house had a large skull at the site where they had to put in the right gas, left barricade, and priorite. They still have time to sleep.

Barns have many cars on their doors and other cars, the sedan has photos and sunshine on the bottom of the roof [*Detta är now and in the next door, so they are in the public sector, men see it tvungna att Publicera dem nu så att ärlden kan se vad Hamas gjorde mot oss*]

It's all over the place and it's snorting and it's about to spread out and save them

[yersina]

concept: buddie supernatural au (the mythos. not the show.)

buck is like the werewolf coded character ever, so ofc that's what he is. he's a werewolf who grew up in a family of werewolves who never made him feel like part of a pack, so he’s trying so desperately to seek connection wherever he can get it. (no, that’s not right—maddie was always pack to him, but then she left with that vampire doug. she always smells a bit like blood now in a way that rubs him wrong, but she’s still staunchly, if tiredly, loyal whenever he nudges her about it, and it hurts to have the reminder that at the end of the day, he’s not her first choice. she’s still pack, she’ll always be pack, but there’s something broken and frayed there now that buck can’t poke at without wanting to break down, so he doesn’t.)

“you go, i go,” connor says, and buck hears pack, so he tags along.

“no man left behind,” the recruiter tells him, and buck hears pack, so he signs himself up for training.

“welcome to the 118,” bobby tells him, and buck still hears pack, but he’s long past trusting his ears.

but things get better. they get worse, first—he’s reminded that humans always find it easier to break bonds than werewolves—but then he’s hired again and saving lives and part of the team. and he has abby, who smells a bit like sickness and a lot like worry the first time he actually meets her, but she has a smile like the moon and always, always picks up the phone when he calls her.

(and then abby goes to europe, and she stops picking up the phone as often. buck doesn’t think of it as leaving him. he doesn’t. he doesn’t.)

the day that eddie shows up and buck catches a whiff of his scent, he’s... confused. the guy absolutely reeks of the sea, in a way that makes no sense if he's telling the truth about being in the army for several years before this. he should smell like sand and gunpowder, but instead buck is reminded of walks along the beach, and with a faint hint of fur and fish, too.

and then he sees the leather jacket that eddie hangs up in his locker.

“damn, this looks like high quality if i’ve ever seen it,” hen says, eyebrows raised, and they practically leap off her face when she catches both of them stiffening when she reaches for it. “oookay. i’ll just. go over there?”

“you brought it with you?” buck hisses at eddie when she’s out of earshot.

“you know what it is?” eddie narrows his eyes. “werewolf? vampire? fairy?” he sniffs the air and then snorts. “werewolf. got it.”

“don’t you have like a—like a box or something to keep it in for safekeeping? a safe?” literally anywhere other than the fire house.

“why don’t you leave my personal belongings to me?” eddie slams his locker door shut. “and the lockbox thing is a stereotype.”

great.

but then they pull a grenade from a man’s leg and they work in a kind of harmony that buck’s never felt before with anyone else on the team, the kind that makes his blood sing and howl in his veins, and eddie says “you can have my back any day” and buck, despite everything, still hears pack.

-

eddie keeps his seal skin with him because he’s had it stolen once. or—stolen is a strong word, it would never hold up in any human court, but instinct doesn't care about semantics, and he’d ended up married anyway. so he always keeps it with him, he always knows where it is, and if he can’t fit it on under or over whatever uniform he's wearing at the time, it’s going in his locker and right back on his person at the end of his shift.

buck still gives him weird looks for it from time to time, like he can’t quite believe that eddie’s willing to take his coat with him outside of his house at all, but he quickly accepts it as the status quo and at least stops questioning him about it. besides, it’s not as if buck’s completely innocent on the supernatural front either. eddie’s never seen any other werewolf take a work shift on a full moon, and even though buck practically vibrates through his shift, he makes it through the night without so much as a five o’clock shadow.

“skipped your pack run?” he asks when they’re all changing back into their civvies. he instantly regrets the question when buck’s shoulders hitch up around his ears in the very picture of uncomfortable.

“i, uh. i have you guys,” buck says with a painful looking smile. shit. “i’ll see you on wednesday, man.”

“buck—” and he’s gone.

he doesn’t even get the chance to work up the courage to ask what that was all about because shannon. shannon.

there’s a lot of anger and betrayal and misunderstanding tangled up in their relationship, but there’s love there still, too. and christopher. always christopher. but then he lets it slip that she’s back in his life now, and buck—

“you're fucking with me, right?” buck’s voice is so flat that it doesn’t even sound like a question.

eddie sighs. “buck—”

“she’s the one who took your coat, right? that’s why you married her? why you had to marry her?”

“buck, it’s not that simple—”

“and now you let her back in, easy as that? you're not even a little bit mad?”

“of course i’m mad!” eddie yells. buck flinches. “but i left her too. it’s complicated, buck.”

despite all the jokes that the rest of the 118 make about buck and his golden retriever, frat boy energy, he’s always been good at thinking on his feet and memorizing facts and putting the pieces of a mystery together. “she gave you back your coat,” he says slowly, like he’s turning the idea over in his mind while he says it. “that’s why you enlisted. you were running. you were free.” eddie doesn’t deny it fast enough. “eddie.”

“like i said. it’s complicated.”

buck shakes his head slowly, eyes wide and wary like eddie’s a stranger that he’s never seen before. “doesn't sound complicated to me.”

the bell rings. eddie’s never been so grateful for a three-alarm fire in his life.

see, the thing is, everything buck is saying is true. shannon is the one who ended up with his coat. eddie did enlist after she gave his coat back. but that ignores everything before and after and in-between. shannon didn’t purposefully take his coat or hide it from him either, and she’d given it back when eddie had been forced to explain when chris would be born with his own coat. and despite everything, despite the fact that he knew he loved her, knew he loved chris—he still chose to leave. he thought he’d been sending a message when he’d chosen something with a built-in return date, a quiet ‘i’ll be back eventually, i promise’ but apparently not.

like he said—it’s complicated.

the universe decides to take that as a challenge, as it always does. shannon, the tsunami, the lawsuit—it’s all so much, all the time, and eddie doesn’t really tune back in to the world until he’s trapped forty feet below the ground, surrounded by water and missing his goddamn coat.

“really?” he asks the muddy tomb around him. “now?”

but the water is an old friend, as always, and he’s much less likely to die of hypothermia or shock from the cold than the average human, so he grits his teeth and dives below the surface. when he crawls his way back to his team, it’s buck that greets him first, pulling him into a hug that’d be painfully tight to a human and smelling of wet fur and tears. “i wasn’t sure you—i knew you’d survive the water, but all the mud on top of you—”

“i’m here,” eddie says, because what else can he say? “i made it.”

he gets bundled up in a blanket and carted off to a paramedic to get checked out, but he doesn’t forget the way buck’s shoulders shook against his own.

-

eddie gets shot and buck falls to fucking pieces because that’s his p—that’s his fucking best friend and now buck knows what his blood feels like on his hands and in his mouth. and he follows eddie all the way to the hospital, all the way to the double doors that he’s never been allowed past, before he remembers—

christopher.

so he stays with eddie’s kid, takes care of him like he’s his own—like eddie would take care of him—and tries not to break down with every lungful of eddieandchris scented air that he takes in their house.

when buck gets that call from ana, he throws himself into action, tugging on a jacket with one hand and juggling his phone with the other so he can make sure that christopher will be safe at home with carla while he rushes to the hospital. to eddie.

ana’s presence hardly registers when he bursts into that hospital room and sees eddie on the bed. his scent is weak and laced with the smell of disinfectant and chemicals but his smile is still warm and alive and oh, buck missed him.

“h-hey,” buck stammers, pulling up short next to the bed. he’s not sure if he should or even can pick up eddie’s hand. can he touch? will eddie break? “i—i made sure that no one touched your stuff at the firehouse, your coat’s still safe, i promise, and—and chris is at home, i’ve been staying with him, making sure that he’s okay—did you know he’s been doing a good job in science class?—and i told carla to wait for a video call maybe, if you’re up to it, so—”

“buck.” and then all of the words spilling from his mouth come to a trembling halt when eddie puts a hand on his arm. “hey. breathe.” buck sucks in a reedy breath. “everything you did was perfect. thank you.”

buck’s exhale shakes. “yeah?”

the smile that eddie gives him could rival the sun in its warmth. “yeah.”

and then later, after eddie’s been discharged—

“you’re not expendable,” eddie says. “if i die, i want you to take care of christopher,” eddie says. buck’s blood is roaring in his ears.

oh.

oh.

OH.

all he hears is he’s yours too.

“eddie,” he chokes out. he dives for eddie, burrowing into his surprised embrace and wishing he could wrap his furry body around eddie and smother him with licks and kisses because human comfort just doesn’t compare sometimes. instead, he settles for tucking eddie’s face into the curve of his neck, right where buck’s the most vulnerable.

it’s not the same, he chants to himself, it doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does to you, but that doesn’t matter over the triumphant roar of PACK in his veins. packs share pups. that’s the whole point of packs—so the children can grow up safely, surrounded by family. and eddie just gave him his.

he would’ve taken care of chris without the confirmation—already has been, really—but it feels entirely different to have the words out in the open, to know that eddie feels the same way. mine, he thinks with vicious satisfaction and something that feels a little too similar to relief, twisting his fingers tighter into eddie’s shirt. mine mine mine mine mine.

“thank you,” he whispers into eddie’s collarbone. “this means. uh. a lot. thank you.”

“hey.” buck can feel eddie’s confusion in the way his body doesn’t quite know whether to lean in or not, but it doesn’t make his voice any less warm. “i’m just making it official, yknow? i want someone who’d fight for him as hard as i would. and i know that’s you. it’s been you.”

“mhm.” buck’s hardly listening anymore. he just curls up and lets himself breathe out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. i’ve found them, he thinks. the missing pieces to my puzzle.

#sina rambles #sina writes #911 #911 show #buddie #supernatural au #was originally worried that it’d be weird for Eddie to be a selkie but yknow what he gets it from his mom’s side #not pictured here: buck chasing seal!eddie up and down the beach on the full moons #strange things that I researched for this include how good seals are at smelling and actual wolf pack dynamics #not that either of those really made a huge impact lmao

[sableeira]

Meiji era japan is so interesting for example almost every major city was founded in 1889, the same year Nintendo was founded

#TBF the cities existed before but most of them were castle towns and when japan centralized their government they changed a lot #of categorization when it came to governing bodies. so castle towns and other towns were restablished as cities in 1889 #the intensity of developments in Meiji era japan is truely fascinating #yes this is part of my skk fanfic research. dunno if I‘ll ever get to continue writing it because I‘m deep in research #and I need to do a looooot of plotting. but if I never get to continue writing it at least I will know a ton of stuff about meiji era japan #sina’s rambling

[accio-victuuri]

Weibo HS entries have been very fun today, lol omg. Sina Weibo is never on my good side but there are days like this that i am very amused. 😂😂😂

So earlier today, the entertainment hs was blowing up with Ren Min’s name because of her dating scandal. A paparazzi, released video evidence confirming that she is dating a director. So the top searches were all her name or that director, or both. I really don’t approve of celebrity’s relationships getting outed like this but what can you do. Then XZ gets into the mix, remember, She’s his co-star in Yuguyao / The longest promise. The reason why is kinda funny tho:

Their CP supertopic has changed their avatar into the words “fake” like what most accounts do when denying a rumor or melon, they stamp this word on it. It’s because of what came out, if RM is in a relationship, then their ship is not SZD. Which I think is not necessary, you can pair people up and continue to do so but not believe they are real. For example I love Dilraba and YY because of YAMG, but I don’t think they are SZD.

I’m not even mad when drama related CPs pop up or whatever co star the boys acted with. I mean, XZ & WYB started out like that too. It’s all good as long as they do not overstep and cause trouble and bad press for the boys. Poor XZ tho, suddenly getting dragged into this. Everyone should just focus on the 15 photos his studio released. It’s beautiful ♥️

NOW MOVING ON TO WANG YIBIS,

I already talked about the cpn implications of his photo today and meaning of the hashtag he used over here. The tag being 3rd on main HS, even tho if you look at the posts and the popular ones, WYB’s is the highest by a huge margin. So we know who gave traffic to that propaganda 😂 Please don’t use him for your rumors and to reach your KPIs, he will only work for free when it comes to the government’s projects.

On entertainment, he’s also there for other reasons, i’m capping it pretty late but it was much higher hours after he posted the photos. 📷

but my favorite is this one, which as of writing is not on the top 50 anymore. the initial post was that WYB’s photos were taken in Inner Mongolia. What’s hilarious are the comments 😂😂😂😂

everyone of the top comments are clarifying it’s because IM is a possible shooting location for Mermaid. what??? Why are they so defensive??? Can’t the account be saying that cause they wants fans to know where it is and maybe the fans can go and visit??? what are they clarifying for 👀

even a wyb fc account suddenly posted lol yet another “clarification”.

The lady (ies) doth protest too much, methinks.

It’s so obvious why they are saying this. Their CP alarm bells are ringing. I swear, these solos can deduce better than us. They saw our IM clowning so they decide to do this “damage control” lol. We know about Mermaid being potentially filmed in IM. We have been clowning since then so whatever explanations on the table is futile. I don’t think they will ever understand how to operate. Ignore CPFs. There is no sense in washing. CPN is all fake and speculation anyway. It’s not our fault. It is WYB who posted that and fed our clown minds.

and I think it will be so much better to post about that place and how yibo looks etc than make a clarification. they ( solos and other fans who have beef with us ) all say BXGs are “delusional” / “irrelevant” etc but they can keep on stalking our accounts and talking about us. In the meantime, we are still here, years later and THRIVING. 💛

#personal #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[anlian-aishang]

Could you write a story of Levi meeting his cute s/o’s family at their house for dinner in sina(she’s from Shiganshina but her older sister married a noble so that her parents can live in sina) and her father is like her(cheerful+funny) and her mother is sweet+gentle. But her big sister is reserved and doesn’t approve of Levi because she doesn’t trust him protecting her sister. How will levi react to her welcoming parents and her sister’s bluntness and rudeness towards him? Thank you.

Thank you for the request, anon! I hope you enjoy ~

Tags: levi x reader, fluff, just a little angst [brief argument], canonverse, food mention, gn!reader

Word count: 1500

You were more nervous than he was. It was not that you had not told him how forthcoming your sister could be, nor that he was oblivious to the importance of in-law dinners. Levi simply had confidence in himself and in the fact that nothing could be as bad as his times outside the walls. A four-course dinner in inner Sina was a walk in the park no matter who was on the other side of the table, even if it was your entire family.

Despite how many times you had been there, stepping into your sister’s house - mansion more like - never failed to take your breath away. Just the foyer was bigger than your entire suite. The hallway was adorned with paintings, each worth more than either of your salaries, perhaps combined. Gold trim on the ceilings and oriental rugs on the hardwood, her place was a short trek from the Survey Corps headquarters, but felt a million miles away. 

You turned to your side and admired Levi’s shock - lips parted slightly in awe, eyes wide open in an attempt to absorb everything. It was about as bewildered as he ever got. 

Tilting your gaze, you raised a brow, I told you. 

Levi rolled his eyes and nudged your hip with his, Yeah, alright, whatever. 

Still, he was not intimidated. Erwin had dragged him to Stohess palaces plenty of times for fundraising events over cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Those high-hat bureaucrats could be insufferable, but this was your family, so they were sure to be similar to you: liked by everyone, easily loveable.

When it came to your parents, he was right. Your dad was a welcome opposition to the father-in-law stigma. Not a killjoy, but quick to laugh and laugh hard. A warm, honest smile - could tell where you got it from. Your mother, on the other hand, was clearly the source of your kindness. While listening intently to the conversation, she kept a constant eye on everyone’s drinks and would top them off the second they fell below half-empty. She continuously served seconds of salad and potatoes onto Levi’s plate, not asking, only insisting: eat more, eat more! Levi smiled at the gesture, his mother had been the same. 

It was going well. Your introvert did not magically morph into a social butterfly, but he did everything right. Cordial manners, please and thank-yous, you admired how he kept his swearing under wraps. When your parents asked the tough questions about titan kills and soldier life, he knew exactly the superlatives to emphasize and the low points to leave out. Being respectful made him respectable, and your parents were without any insight as to how rough a hand he had been dealt in life.

There was someone who knew, though, and was clutching their fists in anticipation of spilling. To her, his ironed cravat and pressed pants were a deliberate disguise, trying to throw off the scent to the lowlife he really was. 

Especially in the wake of the king’s overthrow and the subsequent coronation of Queen Historia. Your sister’s husband was a member of the Military Police, and the only reason he was not at the table with the rest of you now was because he was in custody, soon to be investigated for all Erwin had stuck him with: conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and treason. It was nothing personal, for every single member of the branch was being tried across the board. Given humanity’s vast outnumeration by the titans, it was widely understood that no one would be severely punished, a slap on the wrist at most. It was more symbolic than anything else, a message to the public that order was restored, rulers were to be held accountable, and the defining principle of the Scout Regiment: there was truth to be found out there.

That was not how she saw it, though. All she could see was the man from the newspaper’s WANTED section, sat across from her, at her kitchen table, in the spot where her husband would be - if not for that goddamned little runt. She was determined, not only to let him know he was not welcome here, but not welcome in the family. 

Irritated when your father offered him a toast. Irate when your mother showered him with praise. Worst of all was the way you looked at him: absolutely in love, blinded. 

She interrupted Levi’s thanks with a loud, deliberate clear of her throat, “So -” she propped her elbows on the table, silverware clattered, “Mom, Dad, (Y/N), would you mind cleaning up? I was going to show Levi around the gardens.”

Levi nearly choked, Gardens? It really was a different level of luxury. Still, he was keen to stay behind. If anything, cleaning up was where he could really start to impress. “Actually, I-”

“Great!” Interrupting again, she reached over the table and practically pulled him across it. 

You flashed him a look, do you need me to come with you? Because, if not... this may have been a good opportunity to get a read on your parents’ reads and boast about the feats Levi was too humble to. 

Levi raised his palm and waved you off with a few fingers, don’t worry. I’m fine. 

An hour later, he was starting to regret that decision. 

Though it was just the two of them there physically, he knew that he was actually speaking to all your family, including you, for anything he told your sister was very likely to be transmitted. In fact, Levi clenched his teeth, that was probably the whole reason for this “garden tour” in the first place. 

Either that or to fuck with him. She hit all of the targets without hesitation. You mentioned your mother. She still around? What happened? No father but an uncle who passed recently. So no family, huh? 

You used to have a squad, right? What were their names? Been so long since I read their obituaries, it’s hard to remember. 

Levi stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared vehemently at the ground. Was she fucking serious? Some host. 

If this were anyone else, he would have happily told them to fuck off and been on his way, but this was too important. He had tried deflecting, asking about her life, despite how deeply he loathed small talk. He had tried brushing things off and changing the subject, but she never settled for a non-answer. 

Levi shook his head, the last bit of composure wavering until he stopped in his tracks, prompting her to pause as well. 

Tense eye contact, Levi leaned forward, demanding. “What do you want to know?” And in that moment, she understood his title of captain. At a mere 160 centimeters, he seemed to tower like a titan. “Ask me a straightforward question and I’ll give you a straightforward answer.”

Arms crossed, she lowered her brows and raised her voice, “Everyone close to you ends up dead.” Shouting now, “Why?!” 

Levi scoffed, “You ask the tough questions, huh?”

Your sister gave him a two-handed shove. If he was not humanity’s strongest, he would have gone stumbling backward into the hedges. “They could have had a cushy, comfortable life in the capital, but you and your sacrifice squad fucked with their head and convinced them the Scouts was somehow safer.” Fire in their gaze, “How do you sleep at night?!”

A deep breath, but no rile. “Would they be more secure in Sina or in the Scouts? Likely, Sina.” Levi conceded. “But they didn’t choose the MPs, did they?” Given your brother-in-law’s situation, he omitted the obvious: And it’s a good thing they didn’t. 

“I didn’t force them to know the Scouts, either. Where the fuck do you think I met them?” Bye-bye filter. 

“Safer with me or on their own?” Levi hushed beneath his breath, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

Over a hundred titan kills. Dozens of assists to match. Not only titans, but he was capable of fighting humans as well. She kicked the dirt in stubborn admission: safer with you, more than anyone else. 

“Yes, everyone I’ve ever loved has died -” 

Your sister’s jaw fell at the open admission: he loved you. 

“- but I wasn’t there. You asked how I sleep, I don’t sleep. Every night, I’m kept awake - thinking about what I would have done if I was.” 

A healthy handful of seconds that they surveyed each other’s stares. Nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and the trees rustling. Ironically, occasional laughs broke from the kitchen, communicating that the outdoor strife had not penetrated into the happy home. 

Their joy seeped outside, though, and it started to make sense. All this poking and prodding had no ill intentions, only protective ones. She was just worried for her sibling, that’s all. Levi unclenched his fist and rested a soft yet sturdy hand on her shoulder. “I’ll never leave their side,” whether you like it or not. 

Levi spoke the truth, brutally honest yet undeniable truth, they both knew that. Tension defined their gaze until understanding melted it. There was no one better for you.

But you knew that already.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #fluff #oneshot #2023 #requests #anlian writes #my writing #alias's

[melishade]

How is the Dino Optimus Timeline changed now that Zeke is captured? Do Riener and Bertholdt even try to escape after witnessing Zeke's ass getting roasted and Megatron appearing out of nowhere?

What if Optimus was able to transform into a Dinobot

Honestly, this was also meant as one of the gag stories, but I can try to continue this.

Of course, Reiner and Bertholdt are backed into a corner. First there was Optimus Prime, then it turns out that Optimus has some secret dinosaur form that is just full of rage and anger and can breathe fire! With nearly killed Zeke! Oh and to top it all off, Megatron is here! So that's just icing on the cake!

But based on Zeke's appearance and the amount of titan they saw in Wall Rose, they have to assume that Marley is here somehow. If they learn that Zeke is gone, they could start an invasion. The problem is, they don't know the location of the Jaws or even the Founding Titan.

The good news is that even though the Survey Corps have been suspicious of them for a while, they are completely distracted by the newcomer and Optimus' new titan form. However, Zeke is heavily guarded, and they can't pull him out. Zeke is still interrogated about his origins and how he brought titans within the walls. And he doesn't crack...until Megatron shows up and does his shit. Because he's angry Optimus isn't telling him anything about the whole Dinobot situation and RescueBots, so he needs to take it out on someone!

Megatron: The titans are humans.

The Survey Corps:....

Eren:....

Hanji: Well, I think I'm depressed.

Meanwhile, the Marleyans and Pieck are wondering what happened to Zeke. He hasn't met at the rendezvous. Pieck is ordered to investigate the situation, so she poses as someone who was scrambling to find a way to Wall Sina but couldn't reach it. Pieck is able to sneak in, and she learns that damning information that Reiner and Bertholdt are learning. She knew that she needed to find them and get them out. The mission was clearly lost, and if there were two new titans, one that was able to incapacitate Zeke, Marley needed to cut their losses.

Pieck is able to locate the titan shifters, and demands to know what's going on. They explain what happened, and Pieck is stunned. Three of the titans are either gone or captured?! She knew that this mission was bound to fail. It was a testament to Marley's foolishness, but Annie was captured and Marcel was gone! Pieck makes the decision for them: they needed to go now! Reiner and Bertholdt plead with Pieck to at least try to get Annie back, and there is an extreme amount of pushback, but Pieck says if they can do it without tipping anyone off, then fine.

However after some digging, they realize that Annie's been taken...by the ruler of the Walls. So has Eren. So now, it's a race against the clock between Survey Corps and Warriors to see who will get to Annie and/or Eren first.

(There are a few other notes that I want to develop for this Coup, so I need to wait a little bit before writing it down. Because I have a few interesting ideas.)

#attack on prime #transformers prime #attack on titan #snk #aot #asks #tfp #send me asks #shingeki no kyojin #ao3 #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #optimus prime #megatron #tfp megatron #zeke jaeger #reiner braun #pieck finger #bertholdt hoover #annie leonhart #survey corps #maccadam #macadam

[ginaleztrade]

this is funny to me and only me because once i have to explain it in english it gets less funny

but ill try

welcome to my first toki pona post on this sideblog 👍 no one is safe

so this is just an ace attorney version of jan Kekan San's comic which you can watch here, it is very musi with the voices i recommend

if you're unaware, toki pona is a conlang with less than 200 words. this comic specifically uses the writing system "sitelen pona" (but if you want to learn toki pona, its mostly written in latin characters so you don't need to learn the writing system)

the dialogue in toki pona is as follows:

trucy: toki apollo: toki. sina seme? trucy: mi lon e ma apollo: seme a?! sina lon ma anu seme? trucy: ni ala. mi lon e ma

now time to try and explain this... i'll be using jan Kekan San's explanation to help out.

this comic is based on a common grammatical mistake in toki pona. the word "lon" has meanings as a noun, verb, and preposition. as a preposition it is most commonly used to mean "at" or "in". when used as a transitive verb it means "to make exist"

so someone may say "mi lon e ma" to mean they are at a place, when really they are saying they make a place exist. what they mean to say is "mi lon ma"

with this i will now try to translate the dialogue into english, though it will be a little awkward

trucy: hello apollo: hello. what are you doing? trucy: i am making a planet exist apollo: what?! are you on a planet? trucy: not that. i am making a planet exist

ok i hope you enjoyed my toki pona lesson and maybe this comic is at least a tiny bit funny

oh and.. its supposed to look like shit i made it in ms paint. just in case you were wondering

#ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #aa #aa4 #apollo justice ace attorney #gyakuten saiban 4 #apollo justice #trucy wright #toki pona