I’ll Say It a Million and One Times for You to Say It Once

“I love you.”

Historia whipped her head so fast, Ymir was sure that she got some sort of whiplash. Her small friend looked at her incredulously with bright cerulean eyes, and Ymir felt her heart stutter.


Ymir continued walking, leaving behind her small friend. It had taken her years to finally utter those three words, and yet it only took a moment for her confidence to go down the drain. What if she had made a huge mistake by professing her feelings to her best friend? Ymir was decently sure that she had a chance; she and Historia had been getting closer as the years went by, and some of their interactions couldn’t just be friendly love. It was impossible.

Ymir looked back and was struck with a look of…of…something on Historia’s face. It didn’t look too promising.

Maybe it was impossible.

Letting out a brief sigh, Ymir forced herself to smirk and chuckle. It sounded hollow in her ears. “What did you think I said squirt?”

The small blonde stared at her friend, squinting her eyes. “…Maybe I misheard.”

“Probably. Cuz you’re so short and shit.”

“Ymir!” Historia hit the freckled teen, complaining that her height had nothing to do with her hearing. Ymir playfully fought back, smile on her face. But she couldn’t ignore the pain in her chest.


“I love you.”

This time it was barely a whisper meant to be snuffled out by the noises of the party. The two had escaped the wild teen fiasco for a quiet moment, both slightly stumbling on their feet.

Again, Historia gave her the look she had given her last year. An emotion that Ymir couldn’t define, a look that gave Ymir the chills and heartache. Historia’s eyes grew wide as she realized what her friend had barely said, but she refused to remain silent.

“‘Mir, what did you-”

“Historia, I didn’t say anything ya goof.” Ymir smiled, wrapping her arm around her small friend. “Yer just drunk is all. Alcohol ain’t too good for pipsqueaks like you.”

That time Historia didn’t respond, but Ymir noticed that the blonde held onto her arm a bit tighter.


“I love you.”

They were packing up their things, getting ready to move out and go experience their new college lives. They ended up getting accepted to different colleges, but they were close enough to each other that they could live with each other and not have an unbearable commute. Ymir could have gone to a lot more prestigious colleges, but something made her stick around. Something that was short and blonde, and looked way too good in yoga pants and a black sports bra.

Thou shalt not sin in the presence of the holy one, Ymir reprimanded herself.

“What did you say Ymir?” Historia looked at her with that same damn face, and Ymir lost her nerve.

“Said pick up that box short stuff. The moving van is coming in fifteen minutes and I’d rather not get our new roommates pissed at us for being late and all.”

Ymir stared at the ground as she left, not noticing how Historia’s eyes seemed to darken.


“I love you!”

It was just Ymir in the house, enjoying a night to herself as Historia, Sasha, and Mikasa went to enjoy a night out on the town. Not wanting to seem like a loser with nothing better to do, she opted to have her own night out in the privacy of her kitchen. At least the drinks were cheaper.

“God damn it Ymir, yer such a idiot.” Her words slurred as she mindlessly swirled the shot glass in her hand. “You can say it when she’s not here as loud as ya want, but the moment she comes back you become a pussy.”

A soft meow interrupted her speech.

Ymir looked down at the fat orange tabby cat the roommates adopted and affectionately named Fluffer. Ymir scooped him in her arms and set him on the counter.

“Hey Fluffer, do ya think Historia loves me too? Because I fucking love Historia. And I mean love her. Like spend every night dream about her, fantasize about punching all them guys that like her, wanna be forever with her kinda love. Understand?”

Fluffer looked at Ymir and gave a soft meow.

“Exactly! You get me my man!” Ymir threw her hands in the air, spilling some of the vodka. “Fuck. I’ve known her since we were in diapers, and I still can’t  fucking say it. But y’know what fluffbutt?”

Fluffer tilted his head.

“You can be my practice buddy!”

The cat hopped off the counter and left the room.

“Fine! Who even needs a dumb cat!” Ymir refilled her glass and promptly gulped it down, relishing the burn.

“Historia Krista Reiss, I’m in love with you!” Ymir twirled around the kitchen, pretending to dance with her small blonde. She didn’t notice the sounds of the door unlocking. “Historia, I love you!”

The freckled brunette stopped her twirl with her back to the counter, missing the shocked faces of Historia and Sasha. Mikasa looked amused.

Ymir turned around when she heard Sasha’s obnoxious laughter.

“Who the-” Upon seeing the flushed face of her blonde friend, Ymir’s first instinct was simple. She ran all the way to her room, slammed the door, and hid under her bed. She covered her face with her hand and felt the heat radiate off it. She laid in silence, listening to hushed tones and eventually the door closing again. After waiting a minute, she climbed out from under the bed.

“At least she left.”

Ymir jumped when her bedroom door slammed and locked, revealing a stern looking blonde at its front.

“No escaping.” Historia walked toward Ymir with a frightening calm, and eventually cornered the brunette against the wall. Historia plopped on Ymir’s lap and stared at her, taking the deep satisfaction of the deep blush the brunette sported.

“So tell me Ymir, what did you say?” Realizing the futility of escape, Ymir relented.

“I said I love you. Loved you since we were small. Well, when I was small cause you’re still pretty small and you should really work on th-”

Ymir was cut off when Historia grabbed her face in her hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they finally pulled away, Ymir looked awestruck.

“I love you too dork. I’ve loved you since we were kids, I’ve loved you since you confessed to me that one day we were walking around town, to the day of Eren’s 17th birthday party, to the day we moved out of our town, and now. I love you Ymir. I always have.”

“..Oh.” Ymir’s face pulled into a lazy smirk. “Can we do that thing again?”

“You mean this?” And again, Historia’s lips met Ymir’s. And again, and again, and again.

They had a lot to catch up on after all.

YumiKuri fic rec

But I’m Not a Delinquent! by Twoz

Ymir is a second year high school student who can’t seem to get a break. She’s born with a mean face which causes people to be scared of her and attracts delinquents. She’s rumored to have been expelled from three schools due to fighting with her teachers. She is the ultimate trouble maker in everyone’s eyes.
Only she’s not.
But Historia Reiss is. With golden hair, sparkling blue eyes, she’s the image of an angel. A very violent and destructive angel. When Ymir and Historia cross paths, Ymir can’t help but wonder why her life is so hectic.

Chapters: 3/?

This really hit a sweet spot. I’ve been craving some fics with a more assertive, aggressive Historia. Also Ymir being a huge softie but scaring people off just because she looks like a delinquent? The best. Give it a read guys, it’s worth it. And if you do, please kudos and leave a comment to let Twoz know what you think!

Until We Meet Again

“Bow to your queen!” A guard yelled to the audience of people. Slowly, the rows of people got on their knees out of respect for their ruler. From the old to the young, the strong and the weak, they all got to their knees. It wasn’t forced upon them; they wanted to bow for their queen. She was well liked and respected among her people.

The queen stood in the center of the crowd, the crown resting upon her head gleaming. She stood tall and proud but she was still incredibly small. Her presence was anything but however; she was a seasoned veteran full of wisdom and battle experiences. The people of the lands knew how terrifying she could be. Other kingdoms who dared underestimate her were left utterly decimated, and the queen showed no mercy to anyone who tried to hurt her people. The people rose, listening intently to the guard.

“The queen has declared that she shall retire out of her position!” The crowd gasped and groaned. The queen herself quirked an eyebrow, chuckling. “That is not all!”

“The queen does not wish for a single person to hold all the power as she deems it too dangerous. Her majesty has spent countless years trying to devise a system that would equally balance itself out in case a person of corrupt nature takes power. The people of the land will be the essential part of this plan.”

The crowd listened, not daring to interrupt. The guard went on about the queen’s new democratic republic. The queen retreated from the meeting, tired and weary. As she made her way from the hall to her residence, she thought quietly to herself. She didn’t live in the castle where her predecessors before her lived; no, that was too lavish for someone like her. She lived in a humble home where the rest of the people lived. She may have been a queen, but she was also a person.

Her feet carried her to her home, and she stopped in front of the door. She took a deep breath, smelling the flowers, and entered her home. The inside of her home was decorated in dozens of hand drawn portraits, showcasing all of her friends. Her friends that had made her laugh until her sides hurt, her friends that would lovingly tease her, her friends that made her feel warm. Her friends that were no longer there. Not a single one.

She inspected each and every one of them. They were portraits drawn in their youth, back when the war on those beasts was still in motion. They were children back then, forced by fate to sacrifice themselves over and over again. They didn’t know any better, just doing what they were told to do. They had been full of passion, full of life.

She walked slowly as she stared at the portraits. A boy with strikingly green eyes and a messy smile stared back. A boy with blonde hair to his shoulders and blue eyes that shone with intelligence. Both dead from a curse that took their lives after thirteen years. Incredible power in exchange for their lives. Next to them was a girl with dark hair, looking unamused with her red scarf. But the queen knew better. The girl was incredibly excited to have her portrait drawn by her, she was unable to sleep the night before. Dead from the grief of losing her family once again.

The queen walked more, looking at the portraits above her fireplace. A girl with mischievous brown eyes with a loaf of bread in her hand. A boy with a shaven head, his eyes shining with amusement. Old age took them. Next to them was a boy with a long face and hair with two tones. Her friends joked that he looked like a horse much to his dismay. The war took him.

She walked, inspecting each and every one of the portraits. Some were drawn by memory, her friends gone before she had the chance to properly draw them. She had started drawing them in an effort to remember, to never forget the happiness they had given her. But she never did forget. Not once, not ever.

She stopped at the portrait in the center of the room. It was wrinkled from past tears staining it over and over again. She had drawn her so many times, but it was always this portrait that made her cry. It was yellow with age, drawn so many years ago, back when she was a cadet training for the war that would kill them. The other portraits had been drawn much later after this one, this particular one being the first of the series.

The queen touched the paper, as if she was able to touch the person captured on paper. Golden eyes stared at her, piercing through her soul as they did every single time. Freckles scattered on her face like stars splattered in the night sky. Her lips formed a smirk, a signature trait of hers. But what caught the queen’s attention every time was the look of absolute adoration she had on her face. She would learn much later that it was adoration and love for the queen herself.

She felt tears prickle at the edges of her eyes. She had been so foolish, so naive. They thought they had the entire world in their hands. They thought that their love for each other would save them. She hadn’t seen the freckled fool since the day she left. She still doesn’t know where her body is.

The queen gingerly took the portrait off the wall and brought it with her to bed. She laid, feeling the tears freely escape her eyes, rolling down her face. She clung on to the portrait of her lover tighter and drifted off into slumber.


She didn’t know where she was. It was a place that had light, but at the same time it didn’t. It was white all around, but despite how white her environment was, it was not bright. She felt warm and safe despite never having been in the place before. With nothing better to do, she started walking.

Not too long after she started walking, she stumbled upon a mirror. She inspected herself. Wrinkles covered her body. Her hair that had the color of angel’s halos was now white. She had grown shorter than she was thanks to old age, and her eyes that used to be full of love and hope were hardened with experience. They were still the same striking blue as they had always been.

A boy called out to her, saying her name. She turned to face him and was met with energetic green eyes and a messy smile. He laughed, commenting that although she had grown, she was still as beautiful as ever. His blonde companion joined in, flashing the queen a smile. He also commented on her beauty, saying that he was envious she got to live for so long. Their friend came along, smacking the two on the head. She pulled her red scarf down to talk, saying that it was rude to comment on a lady’s age.

The queen turned her head upon hearing laughter. Two sets of mischievous eyes met her own, and she was suddenly bombarded with a hug from the energetic brunette. The boy with no hair laughed, saying that it had been too long since they last saw her. The boy resembling a horse agreed, complaining with a smile about how long she had made them wait.

They surrounded her, smiling and commenting about how much they had missed her. She responded by saying she had missed them, letting her tears fall freely. She knew what her being there meant, and she was incredibly glad that she could meet her friends once more. They talked for a while, catching up on what they had missed. They laughed and joked around, teasing the queen with all her wrinkles. She laughed with them, having missed their company.

The boy with the striking green eyes exclaimed, scolding himself for not remembering the most important part. The queen looked at him in confusion, but he replied by saying it was a surprise. The brunette covered her eyes, and the group led her to their destination. They kept telling her how much she was going to love it, and her nerves grew with anticipation and joy.

Finally, they came to a halt. The brunette removed her hands from the queen’s eyes, and she was met with the familiar sight of freckles and a smirk.

“Took you long enough,” the freckled girl laughed. The queen felt more tears come to her eyes. She had waited years, decades, for this moment. But she couldn’t move. Anxiety and fear came crawling in her stomach and the tears flowed from her eyes. She sobbed openly, clutching her mouth as she felt the tears roll from her face. She was overjoyed that they met again, but what if she didn’t want the queen? She had left her so many years ago, she was worried she would do it again.

With long strides, the freckled girl closed the distance between the two. Their friends watched with smiles on their faces. Their reunion couldn’t happen in life, but now, after so many years, they met again.

“Look at you,” the freckled brunette laughed. “You’re an old lady and yet you still look stunning.”

The queen’s sobs became harder, the anxiety and fear from earlier fading. She reached a hand out to touch the freckled brunette. As she brought her hand up, she noticed that with each passing moment, the wrinkles were disappearing. By the time she was close to the freckled cheek, her hand and arm looked as they did in her youth. Her hair was no longer grey, it was the color of sunshine and warmth. She felt herself grow a bit taller, but it wasn’t anything drastic.

The queen touched the freckled girl’s cheek. It was warm and familiar. She had missed the sensation. Her cries were beginning to calm down, but the tears still rolled down her cheeks.

“I missed you,” the queen’s voice was hoarse. It wasn’t the voice of a battle hardened ruler, it was the soft voice of a scared girl. A voice that belonged to a young girl who had seen too much for her life.

“I missed you squirt.” The two girls slowly leaned for the other. The queen’s blue eyes were stuck on the girl’s golden ones, and she thanked every god out there that she could have this moment with her.

After decades of waiting, the two kissed. Their friends hollered and whooped with joy, yelling that it was about time. They pulled away, and the queen giggled. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, but smiled. She took the queen’s hand in hers and began leading her away. The others followed, joking and laughing.

She was too absorbed in studying her freckled lover, laughing and thinking that now they would have an eternity together.


“It is my deepest regret to inform that Her Majesty has passed away. Queen Historia Reiss has passed away at the age of ninety-three with no heirs. She was the last of the 104th Training Corps, and in death we hope that she may meet them again. May her majesty meet her comrades Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman, Sasha Braus, Connie Springer, and Jean Kirstein. And we wish with all of our hearts that Queen Historia may reunite with her love, Ymir.”  

compiled by myself and claddaghstrong, (idea from claddaghstrong) here are the phrases in french you’ll need to survive in Montreal!
(ps I think we’re taught in different accents so I hope you don’t mind but I changed your pronunciations a bit to match mine i.e. you say che-vo and I say che-veuh)

expression française (french phrase) [phonetic sound: ex-press-yon fron-sez]


- je (I) [je]
- j’ai (I have) [jeay]
- je suis (I am) [je swees]
- je vais (I want) [je vay]
- j’aime (I like) [jeme]
- j’adore (I love) [jadoor]
- ça (it, that) [sa]
- je n’ai pas (I do not) [je nay pa]
- quel est ton nom? (what’s your name?) [kell ay tawn nom?]
- je m’appelle (my name is) [je m-apell]
- j’ai/(je n’ai) besoin (pas) d’aide (I (do not) need help/I have (no) need of help) [je-ay/(je nay) bes-wen (pa) d’aiday]
- quel est le directions à (what are the directions to) [kell ay le dee-rect-shons a]
- est-que je peux (can/may I) [es ke je peu]
- aller a (go to) [allay a]
- le toilette/la boire de l’eau/mon hôtel (the toilet/water fountain/my hotel) [le twa-let/ la bwoare de l’oh/ mon otel]
- où est le/la (where is the) [oo es le/la)
- je suis malade (I’m sick) [je swees malad]
- je (ne) peux (pas) trouver (I can(‘t) find) [je (ne) peu (pa) troovay]
- avon (before) [avon]
- après (after) [a-pray]
- lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi, vendredi, samedi, dimanche (monday-sunday) [loon-dy mar-dy mer-cre-dy, je-dy, ven-dre-dy, sam-dy, dee-mansh]
- juillet (july) [jwee-et]
if you’re using a negative, always put “ne” or “n’ai” in front of the verb, and “pas” after it. (get—reel)


- bonjour (hello) [bon-jer]
- merci (thank you) [mare-see]
- pardon/excusez-moi (sorry/excuse me) [par-dawn/ex-que-say mawh]
- parlez-vous anglais? (do you speak English?) [parlay voo onglay?]
- je ne comprends pas francais (I don’t understand french) [Je nuh com-prawnd pa fron-sez] Say this when people start speaking french to you and they will happily switch to english!
- oui (yes) [wee]
- non (no) [pretty much no with a french accent, idek] (claddaghstrong)


- je vais prendre un/une/le/la/de/du ________ s’il vous plait (I’ll take/I’ll order ______ please) [je vay prawn-dre un/oon/le (not lay)/la/de/doo see voo play]
- végétarien(ne) (vegetarian - add the extra ne if you’re female) [veg-e-tair-ee-en(n)]
- salade (salad) [salaad]
- sandwich (ok duh a sandwich) [sandweesh]
- poulet (chicken) [poo-lay]
- petit gâteau (cupcake) [puh-tee ga-toe]
- gâteau (cake) [ga-toe]
- biscuit (cookie) [bees-kwee]
- jus de pomme/orange/raisin/canneberge (apple/orange/grape/cranberry juice) [joos de pom/oRANje/ray-san/can-berje]
-(boire de) (l’)eau (water (bottle)) [(bwoare de) (l’)oh]
-café (coffee) [ka-fay]
- thé vert/décaféiné/regulaire (green/decaf/regular tea) [tay ver/day-caff-ee-nay/reg-u-lair]
- sucre (sugar) [soo-kre]
- lait (milk) [lay]
- je suis allergiques à ____/arachides (I am allergic to ____/peanuts) [je swees all-er-jeekes a ____/ar-a-shides]


- 1 un [un]
- 2 deux (deuh)
- 3 trois (twoz)
- 4 quatre (catre)
- 5 cinq (sank)
- 6 six (sees)
- 7 sept (set)
- 8 huit (wheat)
- 9 neuf (nuf)
- 10 dix (dees)
- 11 onze (owns)
- 12 douze (dooz)
- 13 treze (trez)
- 14 quatorze (catours)
- 15 quinze (kains)
- 16 seize (says)
- 17 dix-sept (dees-set)
- 18 dix-huit (dees-wheat)
- 19 dix-neuf (dees-nuf)
- 20 vingt (vaint)
- 21 vingt-et-un (vaint ay un)
- 22 vingt deux (vaint deuh) etc.

- 30 trente (trant)
- 40 quarante (care-aunt)
- 50 cinquante (sank-aunt)
- 60 soixante (swuss-aunt)
- 70 soixante-dix (swuss-aunt dees) (i.e. 60+10)
- 80 quatre-vingt (catre vaint) (i.e. 4x20)
- 90 quatre-vingt-dix (carte vaint dees) (i.e. 4x20+10)
- 100 cent (sawn)
- 200 deux cent (deuh sawnt) (etc. etc.)

when the french say numbers such as 21, 31, 41, 2561 etc, they say vingt-et-un, trente-et-un etc, but only for numbers ending in one: all other numbers don’t have “et” (ay) between the ones and tens place. Also, you pronounce the “t’ in “cent” (100) for every hundred except for one hundred (i.e. 200, 300, 400, 700, etc. except for 100). You also wouldn’t call 100 “un cent”- you’d just call it “cent”


- tête (head) [tet]
- bras (arms) [bra]
- mains (hands) [men]
- estomac (stomach) [es-toe-mac]
- jambes (legs) [jomb]
- genoux (knees) [je-noo]
- pieds (feet) [peeay] (get—reel)


- non, ce n’est pas mes vrais cheveux (no, this is not my real hair) [no, se nay pa may vray she-veuh]
- comment est mon bronzage? (how is my tan?) [ka-mon a mon bron-zaje?]
- une autre bière s’il vous plait (another beer please) [oon o-tra beer see-voo-play)
- merci, Gavin a fait. (thanks, Gavin made it) (mare-see, Gavin a fay)
- quand est les rappels/les prix? (when are recalls/awards?) kawnd a lay ra-pell/ lay pree) (claddaghstrong)
- qui a gagné/quels sont les résultats (who won/what are the results) [kee a ganyay/kells son lays raysulta] (get—reel)


anonymous asked:

London calling

best track: Me And Some Geezers Took A Right Royal Shit in The Queen’s Cuppa Tea Innit

worst track: Me and My Twoz-Wozzlers Havin a Cheeky Peek in Nandos