7 Stars ⭐️ 728

Safaa + Ghita - Postcard Romance

She plants a kiss on your cheek. You feel like a 50s housewife. Ghita: I feel very domesticated… Safaa: Hehe, oh yeah, you're just missing the curlers… Ghita: Get me some curlers on your way home. I'll be better prepared next time.

Safaa + Ghita - Domestic Bliss

"I will love you today and tomorrow and always. I don't ever want to be apart from you; you're my soulmate, my match. God showed mercy when He guided me to you."

both mercy and volpe know the language of flowers very well—this has been mentioned time and again throughout history. this instance was no exception. Both understand that a white peony symbolizes love. but love is far from the only thing this flower represents. Its symbolism is much deeper and more multifaceted. so let’s try to look at the white peony through volpe’s eyes and understand why, of all the possible flowers, he chose this one.

he loves quietly, but there is nothing small about what he feels. his love does not announce itself in grand speeches or desperate confessions—it settles into every careful movement, every hesitation before reaching for her hand, every soft "Is this alright?" spoken by someone who fears hurting her far more than being rejected himself.

he is not gentle by nature. the world knows him as cruel, merciless, someone capable of making impossible choices without a tremor in his hands. volpe has learned that kindness is often punished, and that survival sometimes demands blood on one's conscience. if protecting her meant becoming a monster once more, he would not hesitate. he would bear every sin himself if it kept even a shadow from touching her. love has not made him harmless. it has simply given him a reason to choose where his cruelty belongs.

he worries constantly—not because he doubts her strength, but because he knows how fragile happiness can be. loss is a language he understands too well, and the thought of losing her settles beneath his ribs like an old wound that never truly healed. every word he chooses is weighed carefully. every touch is preceded by permission. he is terrified not of her anger, but of becoming another source of pain in a life that has already known enough of it.

her comfort always comes before his own. If she is cold, he forgets the winter biting at his own skin. if she cannot sleep, he stays awake without complaint. if she needs silence, he buries every question inside himself. loving her has become instinct rather than sacrifice. he no longer notices the cost.

around everyone else, he is the tallest figure in the room, someone whose presence alone is enough to make people step aside. around her, that certainty disappears. she does not make him weaker—she simply reminds him that there exists something he cannot force, command, or conquer. beside her, he feels impossibly small, as though she were a skyscraper reaching into the sky while he remained nothing more than an ant at its feet. not because she looks down on him, but because loving someone so deeply leaves him humbled by the simple privilege of being allowed to stand beside her.

by https://t.me/ilyinskayaa for me

do not use without proper credits, please!!

with Sabrina🎙️

created by me for https://t.me/langley_stories

with Virginia 🦊

created by me for https://t.me/langley_stories

(Warning: spoilers)

The difference is that in NGE, they used Christian mythology and language. In AN3, it’s Greek mythology, which ties in perfectly with the AOT angle.

This is exactly why the Angels were attacking in NGE. Instead of “advent” they used the word “impact.” First Impact took place in prehistoric Earth. Second Impact took place in Antarctica. Geez, is there anything original in this book? Third Impact was the end of the world.

And then there’s the Evangeli—I mean, Prometheus. I can’t believe how unexciting its debut was. All this build up and what do we get? A giant hand. Splat. That’s it? That’s IT?

"There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask, "What if I fall?" Oh, but my darling... What if you fly?" — Erin Hanson