#mxndelan

▊▋❀ ❪ hamilton • accepting. ❫

       ❛ Keladry -- ! ❜ 

       One hand is splayed over his chest as if it is the only thing keeping his heart anchored to his soul after such a resounding shock. The wounded look has always been a hit or a miss, but that doesn’t stop him from trying, eyes glimmering with a manufactured hurt and lips parted in seemingly speechless distress. 

       Seemingly. He is Neal -- it would take a catastrophe to render him truly lost for words. 

       ❛ After all these years you still can’t appreciate me for the one true gift I possess. I’m wilting, Mindelan. All my petals are falling off. Look at me -- I have never been this sad before and never shall be, again. You’ve rendered me more brown and dying than the harshest winter. ❜ 

       He takes a little break from the running monologue ( a tour de force to be entirely honest, one of his best ) to take a delicate sip of wine from his glass. All the best and brightest minds can do little when dehydrated, you know. For a moment it looks as if he’s considering picking up where he left off, but he seems to think better of it ( or tires ) and when he speaks again, his tone is flat and wicked and know it all. 

[ text : Sir Meathead ] Is this why I’ve been stuck hearing that song coming from our room for the past week? You’ve been practicing?

「 sent • mother dear 」well you can’t just DO these kinds of things. they deserve all the dedication you can give them. 

「 sent • mother dear 」as if I’d disrespect the classics, really. 

The sounds of war. The sounds of men dying as they fought for what they believed in. For what they thought was right.

“Is this right, Kel?” was what she had said. The single sentence was louder than anything else, but maybe it was because when she spoke, their surroundings were muted, all of a sudden. Not just in volume, but in colour, density. Ilane was the only thing left that was in focus. 

(Meme; not accepting)

Dear CARLA JEAGER

Oh beauteous flower of Shiganshima, we could have been perfect, oh so perfect, if I hadn’t done that stupidest of stupid things to do when you’re with a cute girl and introduce them to a MOTHER FUCKING EVIL MAD SCIENTIST guy who will be their actual future husband.

I am still willing to go to extents to prove Eren may or may not have come from my loins because I swear he has the Shadis death glare.

I just realized that writing this letter is pointless, because you’re not alive to read it...

-Shadis scribbles a picture of a Titan on the back of the paper-

“Maybe I’ll go dangle this over Jeager Bombastic’s head while he’s sleeping...”

“Ughh... What the shell was that?”

The mutant picked himself off the ground with a groan. Must have been a bad fall, lucky he didn’t break an arm. He paused briefly to inspect he wasn’t terribly injured, before taking a notice to his surroundings. This was not New York. It didn’t even look like Japan for that matter. He picked himself off the ground, giving a sweep of the landscape.