sh☆fting the loml

The queue outside the Trost Arena stretches halfway around the block, and Sasha has been talking since you left the car two hours ago. This is not a complaint however, Sasha talking is the natural state of the universe, and tonight specifically, with the arena lit up ahead of you and the crowd thickening around you and the specific electric charge in the air that only exists outside venues on sold-out nights, her commentary is actually helping. It's keeping you in your body. It's keeping you from standing in the middle of a pavement in Trost thinking about the fact that the Reiner Braun is currently somewhere inside that building, probably doing soundcheck, and you are going to be in the front row in approximately ninety minutes. You are keeping that thought at a manageable distance so you don't freak out.

"Okay, but The Scouts’s hoodie that guy is wearing," Sasha says, pointing with zero subtlety at a man twenty feet ahead of you in the queue, "is the original issue. Look at the font on the back! He has been a fan since the beginning for sure."

"We've been fans since the beginning too," you remind her.

"And we are front row!" Sasha says excitedly, with the reverence of someone stating a divine fact. "We are front row, centre! Which of course, elevates us significantly." She turns to look at you fully, walking slightly sideways, unbothered by the logistical challenge of this. "Are you okay? You've gone quiet."

"I'm always quiet compared to you."

"You've gone quieter than usual." She studies you with the accuracy of someone who has been your best friend for long enough to read the levels. "Is it because you're excited to see the love of your life?"

"You mean Reiner?" You smirk. 

"You mean your favourite person on earth who you've been down bad for since the first album came out—"

"I am not down bad—"

"—and he is going to be standing approximately one metre from your face tonight, and you have to remain a normal person about it."

You look at her. "Yes, fine," you say, after a moment. "It's that."

She nods, satisfied with the honesty. "You're going to be fine. You always look fine even when you're not fine. It's one of your skills."

"That's.....comforting…?"

"It's a compliment. Some of us—" she gestures at herself, "—are very transparent. You have an advantage." She links her arm through yours. "Also he's only going to be on a stage. It's not like you're going to meet him."

"Right," you roll your eyes.

"You're just going to watch the show and enjoy it like a normal person….and maybe cry a little."

"Sasha…."

"I'm definitely going to cry at some point.” 

"Can we just—" You look ahead at the queue, at the arena entrance getting closer, at the night settling dark and clear over the city. "Can we just go to the concert and enjoy ourselves?"

She squeezes your arm. "We're going to the concert, don't worry."

On your other side, Mikasa has been quiet for most of the walk from the car, which is either Mikasa's version of pre-show focus or performing not-caring with her whole body.

Here is what you know about The Scouts. You know more than you'd tell most people, and you know less than Sasha, and you've made peace with both of those facts. They came out of nowhere three years ago in the way bands come out of nowhere— which is to say they came out of years of not-nowhere, years of small rooms and building something deliberately in a basement before the rest of the world caught up to it. The sound is rock, real and structural, guitars and drums that you feel in your chest before your brain has processed them, but it moves, it has something underneath it— a dark atmospheric layer, electronic, pressurised, like deep water. Reviewers have been reaching for words since the first record and usually land on visceral and relentless and, occasionally, when they're paying proper attention— unexpectedly tender. You’ve listened to both albums, front to back, more times than you could honestly quantify. You had already been to three concerts before tonight, but always at the back— but this time, you were front row. 

There were five members in The Scouts:

Eren Jeager, lead vocals. The face of the band in the way frontmen tend to be— not because he courts it, from everything you can tell, but because he has the kind of stage presence that's simply difficult to look away from. Dark long hair, sharp jaw, eyes that are intense in photographs and apparently more so in person…..if the accounts are accurate. He delivers songs like confrontations, like he's been carrying them since before he knew what to do with them and the stage is the only appropriate release. He looks, in press photos, like something has permanently annoyed him. On stage, apparently, this translates as electricity.

Jean Kirstein, lead guitarist. Tall, sharp-featured, with the loose-limbed confidence of someone who has been good at something long enough to stop needing to perform it. His guitar work is technically excellent in a way that sounds effortless and is visibly not, and he has a stage presence that's different from Eren's— more self-aware, more deliberate, which has its own appeal. He and Eren have a documented history of arguing about everything, constantly, and their music sounds exactly like the product of that, which is to say: full of friction.

Armin Arlert, on the keyboard. Slight, blonde and pleasant-faced in a way that press photographs don't fully capture because what photographs miss is the precision behind it— the quality of his attention, the sense that he's listening to everything slightly more carefully than anyone else in the room. He builds the atmosphere, the layer underneath everything that makes the songs feel like weather. In interviews he talks about music theory with a passion that has generated a devoted subset of fans who show up specifically for him.

Connie Springer on drums. Shaved head, built for what he does, with a smile that appears rarely in official press but completely transforms his face when it does. He plays like the kit is the only appropriate container for a very large personal energy, which tracks with everything you've ever read about him. He is documented as funny in the genuine, quick-witted way rather than the trying-to-be-funny way, which is infinitely preferable.

And then there is Reiner Braun who plays bass, and you're going to have to be honest about this— he might be the hottest man you have ever seen in your life. 

He plays the bass the way certain people carry things they've had a long time— like it's continuous with him, like the instrument is an extension of something rather than a separate object. He's built in a way that photographs gesture at and don't fully communicate: broad through the shoulders, tall, a physical presence that reorganises whatever space he's in without announcing itself. Blonde hair kept shorter at the sides, and a jaw that has generated more online discussion than is technically warranted, and you know this because you've read more of it than you're prepared to admit in full. His eyes shift between photographs— pale hazel in some and a darker amber in others, steadier in all of them than feels manageable.

He doesn't move much on stage, but he doesn't need to. While the rest of the band fills the space around him—Eren covering the full stage width, Jean leaning into the heavy passages, Connie a full-body event behind the kit— Reiner plants and plays, and somehow the stage seems organised around where he is. He looks, at all times, like he is doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing and nothing in the world would move him from it.

And now you were front row.

Dead centre. The three of you at the barrier with the stage close enough to see the setlist sheets taped to the floor, the cable runs and all the monitors set up. Sasha has both hands on the barrier and is doing a breathing exercise, while Mikasa is standing with her arms folded, looking at the stage with an expression of composed interest that she is maintaining through what appears to be genuine effort.

The arena fills behind you. Almost twenty thousand people, a sold-out Tuesday, The Scouts playing for one night only in Trost. Everyone had the particular density of an indoor crowd that you feel in the air pressure before you can see it. Someone behind you is singing the chorus of one of their songs Glass Jaw quietly to themselves, and the girl to your left has a setlist prediction written on her wrist in marker.

The house lights drop, and the collective noise of twenty thousand people changes quality. Louder and denser, charged in a way that has a physical reaction that you feel in the sternum. Sasha's hand finds your arm in the dark and grips it.

Then the bass starts. Just the bass, just Reiner, in the dark before the stage lights come up, and the sound of it goes through the floor and through the soles of your shoes and up through your entire body before your ears have caught up with it, and this—this— is why you came, this is why front row, this specific frequency in this specific part of your chest, and you close your eyes for three seconds and just feel it.

The stage lights ignite suddenly, and all five of them were already in position on stage, no countdown, no announcement. Just suddenly there, the way they always do it: Eren at the mic with one hand around the stand, his dark hair loose, the other hand in a fist at his side. Jean with his guitar up and his chin forward, a checkered shirt tied loosely around his waist as he points a finger out into the crowd. Armin was bent slightly over the keys in blue light, and Connie was behind the kit with a red bandana wrapped around his head and his sticks raised in the air.

And Reiner. Your brain processes him last, the way you always savour the best bit for last— and also the slight delay of something your nervous system needs a moment to prepare for. He's slightly back from centre, his bass hanging low, one hand on the neck of it, and there he is....in all his glory.

You have watched videos of their concerts plenty of times. You have watched more footage than you're going to tell anyone about. You have looked at press photographs and live shots and the one behind-the-scenes video the band's channel posted eighteen months ago where he's in the background adjusting his amp and says four words to Armin and walks out of frame, and you have thought about all of this more than is reasonable and none of it— none of it — has prepared you for the reality of Reiner Braun standing twenty feet away from your body and being real.

He's bigger than the videos communicate. The stage lights catch his jaw with the rough stubble and his wide shoulders draped with a dark leather jacket he has pushed up to the sleeves, and his hair has been spiked up with gel. You are standing at the barrier with both hands on the cold metal gripping it and you are in actual, genuine shock and Sasha was saying something at your ear, but you can't hear it. The show has started.

The concert lasts two hours. Eren is exactly what his stage reputation suggests— confrontational in the best possible way, the songs delivered like he's been carrying them since birth and is finally putting them down where they belong. Jean plays with the confidence of someone who has made peace with being this good at something and just lets it happen. Armin builds the atmospheric layer under everything, hands moving across the keys with a precision that looks calm and isn't. Connie is an event in himself: playing with his whole body, every hit landing like a personal victory against the drums.

You watch all of this in awe. You also watch Reiner, the way you've been watching him for two years through screens and magazines and now here, ten songs in, here's stood in front of you. Playing the way he plays in every video—grounded with the bass slung low. You watched the specific way his slender fingers move rapidly on the strings with a certainty that doesn't need to announce itself.

The next song is Glass Jaw, which was your favourite, and it starts with bass alone, which is just four bars. Just Reiner and the intro and the crowd holding its collective breath, and you know this intro— you know where the bass line turns in the second bar and drops in the third, you know it in your body from two years of listening— and you're watching his hands and you're already feeling the turn coming before it happens, a big grin on your face.

Then he looks up from his bass. Not a scan of the crowd or a general audience-acknowledgement glance. He looks up from his strings and his gaze moves across the front row and stops….on you.

Four seconds was how long it lasted (you recount them later with Sasha, reconstructing it with the thoroughness of a documentary team). But four full seconds of Reiner Braun at one metre's distance, looking at you, and you looking back, and his expression giving away very little— but his eyes doing something else, something that doesn't have a name, something that seems register in his head.

He looks back down at his strings, and the bass line turns exactly where you knew it would. Sasha's mouth finds your ear as she grips onto you. "Did he just—"

"Yes!"

"He looked at you—"

"I know!"

"I'm just—"

"I know," you say giddily. "I know."

She subsides, physically vibrating with everything she's not saying. On your other side, Mikasa puts her hand briefly on your shoulder— one deliberate touch, nothing said.

He looks again during their performance of Over The Wall.

The bridge, specifically, you love. The part where the bass line does the low searching run that sounds like something trying to locate itself— you have listened to that run more times than is explainable— and he looks up mid-bridge and finds you without sweeping the row first, directly, like he knew where you were. Five seconds this time, and the crowd is singing the words back and the sound is enormous and inside all of that there are five seconds of looking that don't need explaining and can't be explained anyway.

You don't look away, even when he looks back at his strings and finishes the song. Your hands are steady on the barrier; but the rest of you is less steady, in ways you're not going to examine right now because the show is still happening and you need to be a person who is watching a concert rather than a person who is quietly dismantled at the front of an arena.

He looks again briefly towards the end of the song, but you try very hard not to notice this time– instead choosing to intently stare at Eren singing his heart out near you. 

Before you know it they are doing the final bow, and then the arena’s lights come on again. The crowd becoming twenty thousand individuals again, remembering themselves— the floor tide moving toward exits. The three of you still at the barrier, coming back slowly from whatever the last two hours have been.

"That," Sasha says, to no one but also everyone, "was the best show I've ever been to!"

"Yes," you agree.

"Connie Springer is—" She shakes her head. "Ugh—I need a minute."

"Take your minute."

Mikasa is adjusting her jacket and looking at the middle distance with the expression she wears when she's felt something significant and is deciding what to do with it. Her composure is otherwise perfect, which you respect enormously. You're about to say something about finding the exit when you see him.

Not a band member or security. A man coming along the barrier from stage left, moving with the particular walk of someone who knows exactly where they're going and has approximately zero interest in small talk. He's not tall— but more....compact, dark hair pushed back, grey eyes that manage to look faintly irritated at a distance— and he has a laminated lanyard around his neck and a headset and an expression that suggests he's done this particular task many times and has feelings about it.

He stops in front of you, looking at you specifically.

"You." He has a low, flat voice, efficient, the voice of someone who has edited everything unnecessary out. "What's your name?"

You tell him nervously. He nods once, like you've confirmed something. "I’m Levi. I manage The Scouts." He doesn't offer a hand. "You need to come with me."

You stare at him. "Sorry?"

"Backstage." He says it with the patience of someone rationing patience carefully. "You've been requested."

The three seconds that follow contain a very large amount of processing. "Requested?" you repeat.

"Yes."

"By—who—"

"By someone in the band," he says, with the flatness of someone who considers this sufficient information and is being generous even with that. His grey eyes move briefly to Sasha and Mikasa and back to you. "Your friends can come too, but hurry up."

Sasha makes a sound. Mikasa puts her hand on Sasha's arm and says, to Levi, with the composure of someone who is handling this for the group: "Yes. We're coming."

Levi turns and walks. It is clearly expected that you'll follow, and you do, the three of you falling into step behind him with the slightly surreal quality of people walking through a door they hadn't known existed sixty seconds ago. Backstage is a warm corridor, then another corridor, then a door with the bands name written on it.

Levi holds the door open with the air of someone who is not a doorman but is making a singular exception, and you walk through it and arrive in the room where The Scouts are, and your nervous system does something very complicated. It's a big room— a long couch, coffee table, catering that's been well-attended, a whiteboard with the setlist in three colours of marker and a sound system playing something low and not-theirs. The ambient smell of a show that's just finished: sweat and the particular air of people who've spent everything on a stage and are coming back from it.

Four of the five of them are here.

Eren Jeager is on the couch and you know it's him and your brain does the brief, jarring recalibration of a person you've only seen in images becoming three-dimensional and real, and he is— in person, he is exactly what the stage reputation suggests and also more complicated. He's sitting with one leg crossed over the other and he's looking at his phone, but there's a quality to him even at rest, a contained energy, a sense that the stillness is chosen rather than natural. He looks at the three of you the way he looks at most things, you imagine— directly, without particular warmth or its absence, just the full weight of his attention for a moment. His eyes land on Mikasa and stay there for a beat longer than they stay anywhere else, and something in his expression shifts slightly, and he looks back at his phone, and then— almost against his will, it seems— looks up again.

Jean Kirstein is at the catering table eating with the focus of someone who has just performed for two hours and has remembered that eating is a thing. He's taller up close than you'd expected, and he glances up when you come in and does a rapid assessment— you can actually see it happen in his face, his eyes taking in the three of you and forming conclusions— and then looks back at his food. Armin is in the corner on his phone, texting fast, but he looks up when you come in and his face does the thing that his press photos don't fully capture. He smiles at you. "Hi. Sorry— come in, it's fine!"

And Connie— Connie is behind the couch, drink in hand, mid-story to Eren who's clearly not listening, and he sees you and his whole face does the thing, that smile, the full one, the one from the good photos that changes everything about his face. "Hey! What’s up!" He says it like you're people he knows, like there's nothing unusual about any of this. He comes around the couch with the easy energy of someone for whom most situations are manageable. "I'm Connie."

"We know," Sasha says, and it comes out very even, which you know costs her considerably.

The smile again. "Right, obviously—sorry. Do you want anything? We got food, drinks— Levi, are they allowed to—"

"Don't ask me questions," Levi says, from his position near the door, where he has stationed himself with his arms crossed and the expression of a man supervising a situation he has mild feelings about.

"That's a yes," Connie tells you, conspiratorially.

Sasha laughs, and you watch her shoulders drop about an inch.

"Levi," Jean says, without looking up from his plate of food, "how long are—"

"Until Reiner's done," Levi interrupts him.

You don't react to that. You are a person standing in a room backstage being a normal person and you don't react to that. "Reiner will be back in a minute. He usually does this after every show," Connie explains, apparently reading your face with more accuracy than you'd intended. "Needs like ten minutes or so? He'll be out soon." He offers this with the total unselfconsciousness of someone who considers this context rather than information. "You were front row, right? Centre?"

"Yes."

"What did you think?" And he asks it with the genuine interest of someone who actually wants to know— not performing the question, but wanting the answer— and you tell him, and he listens to all of it, and you're in the middle of saying something when the far door opens.

When it opens you don't look immediately, leaving it a few seconds then you look. He was still wearing his leather jacket from the show and his hair is slightly damp and flattened at the temples from the constant lights on stage. He has a water bottle and he moves through the door with the quiet, unhurried quality he has in every piece of footage, that way of covering distance without announcing it. He scans the room, registering Connie, Jean, Armin, Eren— and then his gaze finds you. And he stops.

He stays in the doorway for one moment that you feel in your chest, before he then crosses the room. He doesn't stop to speak to anyone. He moves directly, with a gentleness to it that surprises you— nothing demanding about it, nothing of the rockstar arrival you'd half-expected— and he comes to stand in front of you and he's big, bigger even than the first sight of him on stage prepared you for.

"Hi," he says. His voice is lower in person, almost quieter. 

Every prepared version of this moment exits your body immediately. "Hi," you say.

He looks at you, his eyes trailing down your body before he looks back at your face. He was not doing it quickly however— it was like he was savouring the way you looked, engraving it into his head.  "I'm Reiner."

"I know." And then, because the sincerity of his introducing himself deserves sincerity back: "I'm—" and you say your name softly.

He nods slightly, like he's settling it somewhere. The corner of his mouth moves. Not a smile— just the idea of a smile, the moment before it. "I saw you in the front row," he says.

"And then you sent your manager to get me," you tell him, which is not the most sophisticated thing you've ever said but is factually accurate.

"I did." He doesn't qualify it, doesn't wrap it in anything. Just: yes, that's what happened. "I hope that's okay— I wanted to find you after. I wasn't sure how to do it without being—" He pauses, choosing his words. "Strange."

"Sending your manager is slightly strange…." you smile.

Something shifts in his expression, that warmth again, the thing underneath the control. "Levi offered."

"I didn't offer," Levi says, from across the room.

"He was going to walk past you anyway," Reiner says, not looking away from you. You are aware in your peripheral vision that Sasha has found a position near Connie and is performing total absorption in whatever he's saying and is absolutely watching this. You are aware that your heart rate is doing something you'd prefer it not to do.

"I couldn't stop looking at you," he says honestly, and he says it the way he says things— plainly, like he's decided to be honest and the only thing left is to do it. "During the show. I usually don't even look up that much but I when I saw you...." He looks at you with the level steadiness that is the most affecting thing about him in footage and in person is approximately six times more affecting. "You knew the bass line at the beginning of Glass Jaw, I could see you waiting for it."

Something warm moves through your chest. "It's my favourite bit, and I've listened to it a lot."

"I know. I could tell." He looks at you for a moment in that unhurried, gentle way. Like being looked at by someone who is paying the right kind of attention. Something happens in his expression. That small shift again, the one from the doorway. "You know, I almost didn't go forward with that song."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought it went too far. The bass line in it and the lyrics—I thought it was too much. Too heavy." His jaw tightens slightly. “I almost pulled it back."

"What stopped you?"

"Armin." A beat. "He told me that the heavy part of it was the point." He looks at you. "He was right, of course."

"He usually is…. from what I can tell."

The corner of his mouth curls. "Yeah," he says. "He usually is."

You stand in the room with Reiner Braun and talk— about the show, about the songs and the production choices on the second album that you've had opinions about for two years and which he listens to with a focus that makes you feel, peculiarly, like you're being taken seriously rather than tolerated. He asks questions and listens to the answers in full, not waiting for his turn to speak. He doesn't perform attention— he just pays it, quietly and completely, and it's the most disarming thing, because you'd prepared for the physical reality of him and you hadn't prepared for this part of him.

At some point Connie produces a deck of cards from somewhere and a game establishes itself at the coffee table— Connie, Sasha, Jean, and eventually Armin, who turns out to be a deeply strategic card player behind his pleasant face. Eren drifts toward the table, looks at the game, looks at Mikasa sitting across it, and sits down with the air of someone who has decided this is convenient rather than chosen.

Reiner watches the table briefly and then looks back at you. "Do you smoke?" he asks.

The question is so matter-of-fact that it takes a second before you shrug. "Sometimes."

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "There's a fire escape at the end of the corridor. Goes to the roof of the arena." He looks at you carefully. "I was going to go up. If you wanted to come…."

You look at him, then at the room, warm and crowded and loud with Connie's ongoing card commentary. This is the thing about being a fan for long enough....you know the difference between the version of a person you've constructed from videos and interviews, and the version of that person in real life. They're not always close or the same as each other. Sometimes the real version is meaner than you expected, or different in ways that matter. But Reiner Braun, in person, with his warm attention and his quiet voice and the way he'd spoken so gently to you after the show; he is different in ways you hadn't anticipated and didn't know to want, and you've known him for forty minutes and something about the air around him feels, ridiculously, familiar.

"Okay," you say.

The fire escape is cold after the heat of the room.

Metal, industrial stairs, the kind that clang slightly with each step. You go up two flights in the near-dark—the city throwing enough ambient light to see by— and Reiner pushes open the door at the top and holds it for you, and you step out onto the roof of the Trost Arena and the city opens up around you.

It's a clear night. Cold, properly cold, the kind that's almost welcome after an arena full of twenty thousand people. The city spreads out below in all directions, lit orange and white, and the noise of it is present but distant, a layer below the quiet of being this high up.

Reiner comes to stand beside you at the edge of the roof. Not close, but not far. He produces a cigarette, lights it with an unhurried efficiency, and doesn't offer you one because you'd said sometimes and he'd apparently taken that as never. He stands with his forearms resting on the low wall at the roof's edge and looks out at the city, and you stand beside him and look out too.

It's easy, is the thing. It shouldn't be easy— this is a person you've known for an hour, in circumstances that don't make easy a reasonable expectation— but there's a quality to being near him that isn't difficult. Like his stillness is something you can inhabit too.

"Do you always come up to rooftops?" you ask, after a while.

"After shows, sometimes." He takes a slow drag of the cigarette before he exhales. "The room gets loud with all of us in it."

"You seem like you find loud things tiring."

He looks at you sideways. "Most loud things are," he says, and it's the frankest thing he's said, and it lands with a warmth that isn't quite a joke and isn't quite not.

Below you the arena is in the process of emptying— you can see the flow of people from up here, the small lit shapes of them moving away into the city in all directions, dispersing the way crowds do after concerts, carrying something with them that they'll keep for a while. "I've been to three of your shows," you say quietly. “Before this one tonight."

He turns to look at you more fully. "Which ones?"

"The Sina Forum, first album tour. Then twice here in Trost.”

He's quiet for a moment, thinking back. "The Sina Forum show was a Thursday, right? About a year ago?”

You look at him. "You remember that?"

"I always remember the shows that felt good." He looks back at the city. "That one did. It was a small room, for the stage we were at then, but it felt—" He pauses. "Like everyone there was there on purpose. Like no one had wandered in."

"I was there on purpose," you say with a small grin.

He looks at you again, and in the ambient light of the city his expression is the open version, the one you caught in the doorway of the room. "I know," he says, quietly.

You look at each other in the cold air at the top of the building and you are aware— with the particular clarity that sometimes comes after concerts, that open, stripped-back feeling of having been inside something loud and coming out the other side, that this is one of those moments that has a quality to it. Not coincidental, exactly. Just: you and him, and forty minutes of something that has accumulated into this rooftop and this specific silence.

"Can I ask you something?" you say suddenly.

"Yes."

"Why invite me backstage? There were twenty thousand people tonight."

He's quiet for a moment— not avoiding, but thinking. He taps ash over the edge of the wall and looks at his hands. Then looks at you with the full, level attention that you have decided is the most affecting thing about him, more than the jaw or the shoulder width or any of the physical details you'd catalogued from footage.

"I've been performing for over four years," he says, "and people always look at the performance you put on, or they look at the idea of the band they've built in their heads, and those are all fine, those are all normal—" He stops. "But you looked at the me and my music. You looked at the me like I was the only thing that mattered, not— the band or the image of me people see." He holds your gaze. "I don't know how else to explain it. You looked like you were hearing my music.”

Something in your chest does something complicated. "I was," you tell him. "I always have been. Since I first heard your music I've felt such a deep connection to it.”

"I know." He says it again, that quiet certainty, I know, like your being heard has been apparent to him from the start. He drops the cigarette and grinds it under his boot and then doesn't move away from where he's standing, close to you, his forearms still on the wall. The cold has gotten colder, and you're not moving either.

"Reiner," you say.

"Yeah."

"This is all…..very strange."

"Yes," he agrees, without defensiveness, without performing casual. "It is."

"I've been—" You look at the city. Look back at him. He's watching you with an expression that is patient and warm and underneath it something that isn't quite patient, something that would do almost anything you asked, and you've known him for one hour and you can see that and it's terrifying and it isn't. "I've listened to your music and been a fan for two years now—”

"I know."

"I feel like I know you. Which is— I know that's not true really—"

"No," he says, and his voice is very gentle. "I feel it too, the connection.” He says it simply, the way he says everything that costs him something— plainly, because he's already decided to be honest and the only thing left is to say it. "I know that's crazy as we just met, but I know what this is and isn't. But when you came backstage to me tonight, I knew I was—" He exhales. "I don't usually….This isn't something I usually do.”

"Its okay.” you assure him, which is the thing between the two of you tonight, this strange mutual knowing that has no reasonable explanation.

He turns to face you more fully. The city is lit and cold and below you somewhere Sasha is beating Connie at cards and Mikasa is trying not to look at Eren and the arena is emptying, and up here Reiner Braun is looking at you like you're a song he's been trying to write toward for a long time.

You think about being eighteen and hearing one of their songs for the first time through borrowed earbuds and not knowing yet what it would matter. You think about two years and three shows before tonight. And finally, you think: fuck it.

You close the distance between you both quickly. He doesn't move for one breath— complete stillness, until he relaxes and his hand comes up to the side of your face, warm, careful, and he kisses you back with a gentleness that shouldn't surprise you and does anyway, that shouldn't undo two years of careful fan-appropriate distance in approximately four seconds and does that too. His other hand finds your waist and settles there like it's been there before, like this is familiar in the way the music has always been familiar, like something already known coming clear at last.

He pulls back, just far enough. His hand is still warm at your jaw.

"Hi," he says again quietly, which is what he said in the room backstage half an hour ago, and you understand now that it was always going toward this, that the whole night has been one long sentence arriving at this word.

"Hi," you say.

Below you, the city. Above you, the clear cold dark. His hand at your face, warm enough to feel through the cold, and the expression on his face, looking at you like you're something he'd do anything to keep in the room. The cold is still freezing but his hands are warm and he's looking at you with an expression that is completely unguarded, the most unguarded thing you've seen on his face all night, and underneath it something that reads— clearly, without interpretation— like he would do anything you asked. Like you could ask for anything and he would find a way to give it to you, and he's known you for an hour, and it should be terrifying but it isn't.

"One night," you say to him, because it's true. Because it should be said and acknowledged.

"I know," he says.

"You're on tour."

"I know."

"I don't— I'm not saying this to—"

"I know," he says, and moves his thumb slightly against your cheekbone, and looks at you like one night is what's available and he intends to be entirely present for it. "I know what this is."

You look at him. "Okay," you say.

"Okay," he says.

The city lights below glittered like scattered diamonds on black velvet as you stood on the rooftop of the arena, the wind whipping strands of hair across your face, but you barely felt the cold. All you could feel was Reiner's thumb stroking your cheekbone, his other hand burning through the thin fabric of your shirt where it rested at your waist.

One night. That's what this was. One night with the rockstar you'd worshipped from afar since you were eighteen, watching him from crowds just like the one that had filled the arena below hours ago. Now here you were, alone with him on this rooftop, his band and your friends oblivious inside.

His eyes—those intense dark eyes you'd seen in a thousand magazine spreads and on screens—were fixed on yours. "You're shivering," he murmured, though it wasn't entirely from the cold.

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours again. There was nothing tentative about it this time—no gentle testing, no slow build. It was desperate, hungry, like he'd been waiting years for this kiss despite having only met you less than two hours ago. His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours with practiced confidence that made your knees weak.

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, slightly damp from sweat despite the cool air. The rooftop door was still propped open, allowing muffled sounds from inside to drift out—faint laughter and the distant thrum of someone testing equipment. Anyone could walk out at any moment— and that thought should have terrified you, but instead it sent a thrill straight to your core.

Reiner's hands roamed your body with growing urgency. One slid up your back beneath your shirt, his calloused fingertips, rough from years of plucking bass strings—scraping deliciously against your skin. The other hand moved from your waist to cup your breast through your bra, his thumb circling your nipple through the thin lace fabric until it pebbled into a tight point.

"God," he breathed against your mouth, "I've been thinking about this."

You pulled back slightly, breathless. “We only met—"

"—hours ago, I know." His eyes were dark with need. "But the minute saw you in the front row I couldn't look away. The way you moved, bouncing around….had my thoughts going crazy. I told Levi I had to meet you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. His lips found yours again, softer this time but no less intense. His hand slipped from your breast down to the waistband of your jeans— fingers toying with the button. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice rough with need.

You nodded, unable to form words. This was actually happening. Reiner Braun—famous, talented, devastatingly handsome rockstar Reiner Braun from The Scouts—was about to undress you on a rooftop.

The button popped open, his knuckles brushing against your stomach as his fingers dipped lower, tracing the lace edge of your panties. You gasped as his thumb found your clit through the fabric, circling slowly, teasingly.

"So wet already," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "Have you been like this all night? Getting wet while watching me on stage?”

You could only moan in response, your head falling back as he continued his maddeningly slow circles against you. His other hand worked your jeans down over your hips, the cold air hitting your exposed skin for a moment before his warm palm covered you again.

"Let me feel you properly," he whispered, and then his fingers were sliding beneath your lace panties, parting your folds gently. You cried out as one long finger entered you, then another as his thumb returned to your clit, and the combination made your knees buckle beneath you.

Reiner caught you with his free arm, holding you against him as his fingers began to move inside you. That article you read online was right— bassist's hands knew exactly what they were doing down there. His fingers curled upward, finding that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. The rhythm was perfect, building gradually until you were moaning and panting against his shoulder.

"Please," you managed to gasp out, "I need..."

"What do you need?" His voice was low, husky. "Tell me, please….”

You looked up at him, at the desperate hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. "I want to ride you."

Something wild flashed in his expression. He quickly shed his leather jacket, laying it on the concrete ground before unbuckling his jeans. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, glistening with precum. You stared for a moment— this was really happening, you were really about to—

"Like this?” He asked, lying back on his jacket and guiding you gently over him. The cold concrete bit into your knees through the leather, but you barely noticed— all you could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his hands gripped your hips hard as you positioned yourself above him.

You sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, a perfect fullness that made you both moan loudly as you sank down fully. For a moment you just sat there, adjusting and feeling the incredible sensation of being completely filled by him.

Then you began to move. At first it was slow, experimental circles that had his fingers digging into your hips as he whimpered beneath you. But soon you found a rhythm, rising and falling in a steady cadence that matched the distant bass thrum still audible from inside. The cold air kissed your exposed skin, but inside you were burning— every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Reiner watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his hands guiding your movements. "God, look at you," he breathed. "So fucking beautiful."

You leaned forward so your chest was against his, changing the angle— and cried out as he hit somewhere deeper inside you. His hand reached in between you and his thumb found your clit again, rubbing in time with your movements. The pressure built rapidly, a tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

"I'm close," you panted, your movements becoming more frantic. "Reiner, I’m—"

"F-fuck—me too," he gritted out, his hips rising desperately to meet yours. "Fuck, where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you begged, cutting him off. "Please, come inside me…"

His eyes widened, his grip tightening almost painfully on your hips as he continued drilling into you. “Fuck—are you sure? Because if you say that again—"

"Inside," you repeated. "I want to feel you come inside me."

That was all it took. With a guttural groan, he thrust up into you one last time, his body going rigid as he came. The feeling of him pulsing inside you triggered your own orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you so intensely you saw sparks of white. You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the distant city noises below. His arms came around you, holding you close despite the cold.

"Wow," you finally managed to say against his chest.

He chuckled weakly, his fingers stroking your hair. "Yeah. Wow."

The backstage room is exactly as you left it. Sasha and Connie locked in what appears to be a deeply personal card game, Armin advising from the sideline, Jean on the couch with a plate of food that Mikasa was also picking from, and Eren was asleep with the commitment of someone who has decided the evening is over.

Nobody looks up when you walk in, and Levi, from his corner, does not move his eyes from his phone. "You two were gone a while," he says.

"We know," Reiner replies.

You both find two empty seats on the sofa. Connie glances up, clocks the both of you, and looks back at his cards with a smile he doesn't quite manage to contain. Sasha finds your eyes across the table and communicates approximately thirty things without moving her face.

You give her nothing Reiner sits beside you, very close, and picks up the spare deck from the edge of the table. He turns it over once in his hands to look at them before placing them close to his chest.

"So...how do you feel," he says quietly, "about tour buses?"

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “Channeling, What is it?”

Channeling is the act or in other words— practice of tuning in and opening urself to communication with a higher power/specific person or entity. Often in this practice you become a vessel, allowing ur self to be receptive of messages and communication with the higher power, person or entity whether thats through thoughts, feelings, images that come to mind, or even sensations. It is very similar to connecting to higher selves or spiritual guides but it can be done with people in ur DR but its extremely important to approach this practice carefully with respect, and patience not forcefully or carelessly. So in short you’re pretty much communicating with someone in ur DR, talking to them!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “Common misconceptions”

its important to note that channeling and receiving signs are not necessarily the same thing, as you do not need to do the same process for channeling to receive signs. With my personal experiences theres been alot of times where i’ve received extremely strong signs from my s/o without actively trying to channel him, and i will say receiving signs is alot safer imo but its not something that happens on command it can happen quite spontaneously and ive found when receiving the strongest signs is when ur not actively looking for it just let it come to you. It’s all about being open. I will also add ive seen alot of people within the shifting community say that writing a letter to ur s/o and asking for a sign is the same as channeling when in fact it is not please stop spreading this i beg of you because it downplays channeling and channeling is alot more complex compared to writing a letter and asking for a sign theres alot more steps and things you must do with channeling to take into account, i like to think about it like this when it comes to signs its like sending a text to your loved one waiting for them to respond but with channeling its like actively talking to them over the phone.

Another common misconception ive seen with channeling that is extremely harmful is that you can channel through AI, whether that’d be c.ai, replika, or chat gpt AI itself is already bad enough and harmful do not bring AI into the same space as channeling, AI is programmed to respond a certain way that attends to ur best interest by no means do higher powers have any control of it and carrying the mindset that you can “channel” or “communicate” through AI is an extremely harmful mindset that should not be carried. Its a program not a medium stop bringing AI into spiritual practices cannot stress that enough.

꒰ Before you attempt to channel .ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “Protection”

Ive heard some people say that protection isn’t a must when it comes to channeling, it absolutely is. When you’re trying to come in contact with someone whoever that’d be your s/o, a friend from ur DR, sibling, stepdad, spirit guide whoever u wish, its opening a door and without the proper protection and preparation anything can allow itself in that arent in ur best interest and like to fuck around (literally), and as i like to say its all fun in games until your sitting stressing whether or not what came through in a channeling session was ur s/o or not. (Not fun definitely do not recommend). But anyways! its extremely important to protect yourself and approach channeling in a clear head space.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ Ways to protect:

approaching channeling in a good headspace it is so very important that you approach channeling grounded and in a good headspace, do not attempt to channel when u are spiralling! Please i beg of you! definitely do not attempt when ur in a crisis mentally, i came across this funny saying when it comes to reading tarot that “if you cannot see the cards through tears then wait a bit” because how i you supposed to see the cards and its meaning right? and that stands both literally and metaphorically when it comes channeling if your spiralling, or just not mentally ok ur emotions are running high and when emotions are running high they cloud your intuition and theres a very high chance of misinterpreting messages or just clouding ur ability to channel in general, its important to approach the practice in a calm neutral way. Also lightness attracts lightness if your in a low vibrational state you can attract things in the same state.

grounding like I said before, its important to approach channeling*** in a calm, neutral way and its only natural to be nervous or excited when your making the move to come in contact with someone in ur DR, and thats what grounding is for! Focusing your environment, and becoming aware of your body and focusing on it can really help bring that heart rate down and help you get in touch with yourself before you approach this practice.

crystals they are good for protection and some can actually help amplify/make communication clearer, certain types of crystals tend to protection more then others but they definitely do help some crystals good for protection when channeling include: obsidian, amethyst, clear quartz, selenite (selenite personal favourite because its good for cleansing aswell), smoky quartz, !!TIGERS EYE!!!, i do also use lapis lazuli its also important to cleanse these crystals before hand.

cleansing ur space before hand cleansing ur area and space is also a good way to protect, u can light incense, clean ur room decluttering ur area/environment, setting positive intentions, cleansing rituals.

calling on a higher power for protection personal fav here, but calling on a higher power works extremely well whether thatd be calling on ur spirit guides asking for protection, praying to god whoever youd go to or attend too. They can block channeling sessions if your not protected enough or something isnt right, and hey thats what you asked for! but definitely a very good way to protect.

setting intentions and saying affirmations i do this one alot when im channeling, its like setting boundaries affirming that your safe and protected specifying that no entities or anything other then the person ur intending to channel can reach you, is a good way to protect urself.

visualisation while you’remeditating, visualise a white bubble surrounding you and protecting you that no one that you dont intend to channel can enter the bubble.

(theres alot more ways to protect but these are the ones i can think of now, like always do ur research when it comes to protection!!)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “So, How exactly do we channel?”

so we’ve gone over protection, misconceptions and what channeling is in itself and your probably wondering at this very moment well how the hell do you actually channel, Vienna you keep yapping!, and thats what we’re going to be covering now!

Im going to be speaking upon personal experience now, But what i usually do when im attempting to channel is laying down eyes shut, listening to white noise while i get into a meditative state and affirm that I am protected, no harm can be done upon me and no harm can reach me that only the person i intend to reach can come through. You’ll then want to legitimately call on the person and that can simply be done by saying in ur head or outloud if u wanna be extra (i do it in my head) “Im channeling (x) and i invite them to communicate with me through (x)” or “im open to the energy and presence of (x) and only (x), Im invite them to communicate” those are a few ways you can call upon your person but feel free to call upon them how you wish. Now you’ll genuinely feel a shift in energy, and its very important to listen to ur intuition and how your feeling because that can tell when theyre actually there with you present, but its important to keep alook out for how ur feeling if something dont feel right do not continue with the session. End it try another day, i know its discouraging when you really want to talk to someone from ur DR and you have to end the session but its really important to be safe then sorry, plus channeling takes alot of practice its a skill not a naturally born talent yes you can be more susceptible then others, but you need to approach the practice like anyone else would and again emphasising on protection here !!! but anyways, when you feel the energy shift and the potential presence of whoever ur trying to reach i find that theyll let you know when theyre there, from personal experience again when ive successfully channeled my s/o has always let me know that hes here literally by telling me, and hearing him say it himself. But that varies from person to person every person ur trying to channel is different. But anyways once you’ve got them in the bag, start with asking questions they would only know to test whether or not its them and so you dont mistaken a trickster for them, with questions each time you channel change the questions up and also have a variety on questions set if theyve answered the questions correctly great youve channel them! start talking to them, ask them more questions if you like do whatever! if the answers to the questions arent clear or incorrect end the session dont settle, dont ask another question just end the session and try channel another day dont keep going please.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “Different methods to channel through”

1. Tarot: tarot is a great way to get very detailed and multidimensional responses, you pretty much ask them to communicate through your cards, ask your questions and voila!

pros: like i said, great when it comes to detailed multidimensional questions and answers, you can ask more specific questions your not that limited with questions you just need to be clear with questions.

cons: its best you have some sort of skill with reading tarot, or experience because if you go into tarot without knowing how to read it you might not understand whats being communicated and misinterpret whats being said, and it can be limited to straight up yes or no questions, tarot isnt the place to go for yes and no questions.

tips: listen to your intuition and the first meaning that jumps at you when you get the card, after all what makes tarot is your intuition and not whats in the book look at the imagery, and feeling of the card what you see and channeling thrives off intuition.

2. Shufflemacy: shufflemacy has a special place in my heart, it can take practice but oh boy is it the most craziest way to channel atleast for me as i can feel quite bias to things like tarot and pendulums, shufflemacy puts the response out there without much thought. What you want to do is open a music app whether thatd be spotify, apple music, musi souncloud (though it might be hard to use spotify if u dont have spotify premium LMAO), but anyways any music app where u can make a playlist or favourite a playlist and hit shuffle. Your going to want to ask your person a question and hit shuffle on your playlist and that’ll be the answer to the question.

pros: if you channel correctly through shufflemacy the answers can be insane like it’s genuinely one of my favourites its like they are actively talking to you through music. Like ive done it so many times asked my s/o a question and its like he’s actively responding to me and the question perfectly through the song.

cons: sometimes what comes through wont be clear depending on your question or you may or you may misinterpret the song and whats being said and freak ur self out a bit (HAHA .. never couldve happened to me trust ..) but anyways if something isnt working out its best to end the session.

tips: really pay attention to the lyrics of the song, not the melody or what you associate the song with but the lyrics itself because thats how they’re communicating the lyrics are what they want to say. ALSO if a song is repeated over and over LISTEN TO IT its them literally telling you something or an answer theyre quite stubborn on speaken on personal experience i asked what my s/os favourite song was that i had written bro played summertime sadness four times in a row on shuffle so yes. Listen.

3. Pinterest: this is where you use pinterest to receive the answers from, you pretty much refresh you pinterest feed and board and whatever shows up is the answer to your question!

pros: if your more want visual answers or want more aesthetic based answers for example asking your s/o for a picture that represents the both of you then this is the place to go!

cons: pinterest can be biased when it comes to channeling, sometimes a bit unclear mainly because theres so much going on so if your a beginner with channeling you may get confused with what is from them.

tips: pay attention to what pops out to you, if you’ve done this method correctly the response should clearly match up with the question ask like it should be undeniable, and just pay attention to how you feel like if something feels a bit broad or bias then its likely not a response from them.

4. pendulum: this is probably my least favourite way to channel but its the most simple way, you pretty much ask a yes or no question and the direction it swings is the answer id start off by saying “show me yes” and the direction the pendulum swings is was equals yes and then ask the same for no.

pros: like i said very simple, great for yes and no questions if you have alot of those types of questions also good as a substitute if your doing tarot you can use the pendulum for small yes or no answers.

cons: its probably the least interesting and fun way to channel imo (no shade), maybe at the start itll wow you but after awhile youll probs find yourself wanting to switch it up a bit because as a society we cannot live of yes and no answers (LMAO), also pendulums can be extremely bias im going to say this but your ego can influence the answer given and it is so important to be open to any answer and thats why im not the biggest fan of pendulums when it comes to using it has a whole source of channeling because they can be very easily influenced by your ego.

tips: being resistant answers and leaning towards one answer more then another is exactly how you can get in the way of receiving an honest answer and it also gets in the way of the person communicating, another tip is clear mind and hand still while allowing the pendulum to move in the direction try not influence the result.

5. automatic writing: I have not tried automatic writing enough to speak upon or give advice on but it is another way to channel and if your interested in channeling this way do your own research on it because im not equipped enough to talk about it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓂃 ꒰ “Tips”

these are just some tips to enhance ur experience but preparing the night before, i dont know why but when ive channeled my s/o and ive planned a day before or a night before and set the intention that Im going to channel him a day prior is when ive gotten the strongest results, rather then just rushing in. Going into channeling with clear questions really helps getting a better result and more clearer result with communication, also id be a little aware with what questions your asking after all these are real people your channeling and you should treat them as such, they aren’t just a character your channeling or distant celeb they are very real and multidimensional just like us they too have thoughts and feelings so just be wary with what your asking also another thing im going to add onto this is being prepared to get an answer that you weren’t expecting, like i said before these are real people its not just a silly relationship that you have scripted, its very real expect answers of such and be open to what comes through. Pay attention to reoccurring images, lines or lyrics that come through before channeling ive had experiences like the day i was planning to channel my s/o and this specific song where stuck in my head for the whole morning and when i channeled him with shufflemacy he played the song, and thats happened multiple times so be aware and often its subtle and happens without much thought and also being on a look out for specific themes that keep showing up.

That is all, if anyone has anymore questions about channeling please hmu in dms or send me an ask !!

-𝓥𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑎 xx

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