you are my sunshine;

notahorsekirschtein:

notahorsekirschtein:

✘- for a text that was meant for someone else

[text] what am i supposed to do, just walk up to him and be like “hey marco i know i’m ur best friend but i really like u like more than a friend”?? he’d probably hate me or something

[ MARCO ]

OH MY GOD I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT TO YOU I’M SO SORRY

[ MARCO ]

wait are you serious?

< JEAN >

yeah, i kinda figured that. and yes, i'm serious. you, me, dinner date. 
< JEAN >

we could go somewhere nicer than a pizza place. just say the word.

skysawake:

keepers-of-the-tor:

[when you want to RP with somebody but they don’t continue the thread]

image

psa; if I ever do this please don’t be afraid to message me! Chances are I derped and the reply was, sadly, overlooked. 

worthhundredsoldiers:

—     Was it not? “Oh.” how was she supposed to handle these things now, then? “What should I do with the notes, then? I’ve no clue who could have written these…”

image

❝Well,❞ he did not expect that question. ❝You could try keeping them? For now?❞ A thought occurred to him. ❝Maybe you’ll come across someone acting funny and it could that person. I mean, don’t you want to know who sent it?❞ He sounded a bit nosy, he was aware but he was very curious.

x.

"Life is for the alive, my dear, so let’s keep living it."
Sweeney Todd Sentence Starter Meme

❝As opposed to just existing from one day to the next,❞ he added. ❝It’s certainly a life motto to have, at any rate.❞ Though it certainly wasn’t for him.

notahorsekirschtein:

✘- for a text that was meant for someone else

[text] what am i supposed to do, just walk up to him and be like “hey marco i know i’m ur best friend but i really like u like more than a friend”?? he’d probably hate me or something

< JEAN >

you could do that. and then i will reply with something like, "gee, that's great, i like you too. would you like to go out for dinner this friday night then? i know a great pizza place."
< JEAN > 

of course, this is hypothetical since i don't think you meant to send this to me. also, it doesn't have to be pizza.

+++ [with lots of love from alphatay]
Send me a +++ and my muse will tell you what their first thoughts of your muse were upon seeing them for the first time.

❝Er— well I thought you were a little bit odd. Not like ‘weird’ kind of odd but more of a ‘I can’t put my finger on you’ kind.

Am I making any sense?❞

musings  q  

ofhonesty:

                           heyitsmarcobodt

image

                            ❛ i’m so fucking glad that it’s cold
                          enough to wear sweaters now, man. ❜

image

❝ I love sweater weather as much as the next person,
       but I feel like I’m going to freeze my nose off. ❞

ic  ofhonesty  
"Nothings gonna harm you, not while I’m around."
Sweeney Todd Sentence Starter Meme

Some nights, he dreams of giants.

They resemble human beings insofar that they do not look like any other animal but it ends there. These creatures have grotesque and distorted features; lips that twist into smiles of cruelty, eyes that hold inhuman and unholy glee, and mouths that boast of consumed human flesh.

These nights he wakes up screaming but never remembers in the morning.

It wasn’t until he met Jean that Marco starts to remember piece by piece. Long training days at the barracks, sleepless nights brought about by worry and talks of the future, and Trost. It’s a mixture of stark clarity and foggy ambiguity that he remembers Trost.

He remembers the spread of cold fear upon learning of the breach.

He remembers seeing Jean on the ground and thinking, ❛You idiot! Run!

He remembers luring the Titan away, offering himself as a better target.

He remembers a pain that starts on his right side and spreads like lightning. Quick, bright, and intense.

He remembers nothing after that.

Now, the only giants that surround them are made of steel and glass and concrete. Some days, he can’t wrap his head around the idea that they are no longer child soldiers and still tense at certain stimuli. Some days, it feels like something that’s all in his head, a nightmare weaved by an overactive childhood imagination and age-inappropriate horror movies.

But then he looks at Jean and remembers some more. The familiar stretch of mouth, the glint in tawny eyes, the warmth of calloused hands in his own. ❝My knight in shining armor, are you?❞ He shoots the other boy a cheeky grin and bumps shoulders. ❝We can get you a white horse and everything. Ooh, and tights.❞

I believe you,❜ he doesn’t say. It’s pretty much a given.

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