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I realize I've been radio silent for literal months but why are people suddenly insatiably horny for school castes Armin of all Armins and how did I end up on that side of the internet?

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Andrea Gibson

support me on Ko-fi

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Happy New Year y'all!

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reblog if your muse has ever suffered a life-threatening injury. 

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Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

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Don't fall in love with me cause i'll treat you right and you will get bored and cheat on me.

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— enoughtohold

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happy birthday dearest one! 🐚🎂💙

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Shh he doesn't want anyone to know it's his birthday.

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John Keats, from a letter to Charles Brown, featured in The Selected Letters of John Keats

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It’s you until the end

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|| Private || Jean Kirschtein || Selective ||

❝ It's a story of sacrifice and betrayal, and good people dying in stupid pointless ways. ❞

Jean Kirschtein rp blog from snk // covering canon and divergent, modern and reincarnation, original ideas and inspiration off other media // written by Key, they/them, est. 2014 and resurrected in 2024, 21+ only

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What does your heart look like?

Broken, missing pieces that once were there.

Your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. Some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. But it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. You don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. Allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

Tagged by: @calcitration

Tagging: @kxrsch @ausdauer @desolxte

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bertholdt huber. — i lived my life as a monster. my only hope is to die like a child.

nsft. 21+. dark and triggering content. based on snk canon. written by lani.

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While Armin dumps some antiseptic onto a clean piece of gauze, there's a blessed moment in which he thinks he's successfully shut the subject down. But as he goes in to finish up treating the injury, Jean decides to open his mouth yet again. Perhaps even more frustratingly, he turns his head at just the right moment, so all Armin's gauze comes into contact with is empty air. The blond frowns. At this rate, they're going to be here all evening.

"Alright, alright. You're welcome." I'd do it again, if you needed me to. "That's what you want to hear, isn't it? Now, come here and stay still for a minute."

A hand finds its way to Jean's face, fingertips grazing his jaw, gently pulling him back into a position in which Armin can see what he's doing. Blue meets gold, intent on a stern expression that instead fizzles into something almost shy when he realizes just how close they are. Whoops. Armin backs off, clears his throat, and swiftly brings his focus back to the wound with a mumbled, this is probably going to sting a bit.

His hand remains cradling Jean's face as he dabs at the slice through his brow, just in case he tries to pull away again. Doesn't let go until he's finished with the antiseptic and needs both hands to apply a makeshift bandage with medical tape and more gauze from the stockpile on the table. It's not the prettiest bandage, but its neat and should be effective in keeping the wound clean while it heals.

"There." The blond takes a short moment to admire his handiwork before he nods to himself. Acceptable. "Finally done."

Jean ticks back another glance, even though (or, especially since) Armin isn't looking back into the very depths of his soul right now. Still more focused on fixing up the bust in his brow, even as he plants that proverbial hand over his mouth and effectively pushes the topic right back down Jean's throat with that one simple line: It's what friends are for, isn't it?

"Yeah..." His response comes quickly, of course, and with a soft little laugh so Armin knows that he knows that. But Jean is soon back to staring at his fidgeting hands, trailing the tip of his thumb under the subtle curl of his dancing fingers, before he swaps just to do the same with the other instead.

Probably says a lot about his arrogance, still, doesn't it? That he even has to wonder about that... Because Armin says that like it's something he'd do for anybody, for any one of his friends, and it's not as though Jean doubts that he would—but Armin hasn't actually done it for just anybody, has he, he's done it for Jean. More than once.

What friends are for...

He shifts in his seat, subconsciously steering his head away from the approaching sting of the antiseptic, at the same time that he grouses, "But jeez, Blondie, it's not as if you've just done me a little favor and gave my boots a damn spit-shine or somethin' like that—y'know, it's only my life I'm talkin' about here..."