#Titan smells like caked blood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

levmada · 2 years

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“ i’m alone. and it’s my own fault. but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. ”

and/or

“ it’s better if i’m alone. i can’t hurt anyone if there’s no one close enough to get hit by the debris of my fuck ups. ”

hi gee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 how about reader who was promoted to captain not too long ago and lost their whole squad on a small capture/base construction operation. and they have been dealt a really bad deck of cards, like the families really harassed them on their Walk Of Shame back to HQ (S1 episode 22 vibes iykwim (bonus points if levi sees the families berate reader, i'll leave his potential reaction up to you)) and locks themselves away bc "fuck the world" or whatever. levi decides enough is enough after a few days and attempts to pull them out of their room, but it's so messy and cups are piled high and reader is highkey still crying/really depressed (naturally) and levi sees how bad they are feeling. maybe he tells them about farlan and isabel? maybe he just gives them advice? or maybe he just sits there and holds them as they cry

SORRY IF THIS IS TOO ANGSTY BUT YOU HAVE WRITTEN DEATH AND ANGST BEFORE???

I LOVE ANGST NO WORRIES!! i had a load of fun writing this when i was goin thru it pls. i rly rly hope you like it cece

content/warnings: descriptions of depression, hurt/comfort!!, soft Levi, references to death, canonverse, Section Commander!Reader

wc: ~1.4k

So much for being a Section Commander.

All those expectations, all the rallying to succeed, all the promises.

You burrow deeper into your duvet and sniff. All that blood, on what was supposed to be an easy operation.

You could swear, even in silence, you still hear the shriek of a widow, the tortured shouts of a father who just lost his daughter. You smell copper; it rolls over your tongue.

Not to mention taking advantage of Levi's kindness for a 'few days' of rest. You should be better. You should be stronger.

Your mind floats back and revolves around that day—yesterday? Two days ago, a week? You can't remember anymore.

The day he last saw you out of your quarters are all Levi can think about anymore.

He sits hunched over some papers crying out for signatures at his desk and closes his eyes, feels the world turn behind them.

The walk of shame back behind the Wall is always the cherry on top of the shit cake of any unsuccessful expedition; the ones where the weight of the bodies outweigh the boons those bodies devoted their hearts for.

A simple goal. And you lost everyone on your squad.

It's not enough for someone to look at you and not just hope it doesn't happen to them, but to understand the risk they take every time they go outside and shame you regardless. The civilians are the ones who hold the disgust, the contempt, the Why? How could this happen?

The eternal question that can't be answered.

Many knew of your squad because the news of your promotion made it all the way to Sina at one point or another. A promising up-and-comer not unlike Commander Erwin himself.

Only for this to happen: Four elite soldiers, devoured by Titans within the span of minutes. The lack of trees to maneuver with and the snowy weather combined with the fatigue of a thirty-hour day—they weren't kind to you, or the four under your lead.

A mother's crestfallen face, Levi recalls, dissolved into rage.

"How could you let it happen? Why? Why did you do this to my boy?" she howled through sobs. Louis' patch was pinned to her chest.

Of course Levi saw, how could he not when you fought on par with his own squad?—When you were now together?

Levi resonates with grief, feelings like black fire tearing through a chest, but not like that, not you. A new vengeful flame burned his veins to see you being accused of such a thing.

He had tugged his horse along and, sparing the woman, simply walked at your side so you wouldn't have to be the lone woman walking without her squad. It is a special type of loneliness, being surrounded by ghosts.

"Take a couple days off," he told you, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll talk to Erwin."

You barely nodded, barely seemed to even register that Levi was there in the first place.

He shades his face in his hand now, wondering why the hell he said something like that now that a "couple days" has turned into a week straight without you. Surely... any other partner wouldn't let this go on. He misses feeling your arms around him.

Since he has gotten to wondering whether you have been eating, for days he has been taking your meals to you from the mess hall.

Because he resonates with grief.

But, enough.

And so he rises to his feet, in pursuit of you.

Knocking didn't do anything for him. Seeing how your bedroom, where he assumed you were, was a ways from your office, he didn't hear any signs that you were inside and simply hiding from him.

He figured you were hiding silently.

First of all, upon slipping the key back into his suit jacket, he finds that your office is a mess of books and papers, especially your desk.

Tray of stew in hand, he bypasses it. He has bigger priorities.

He knocks on the bedroom door and says your name, firmer than he met, then softer. "Dinner."

Some shuffling, but no reply.

Levi gets to thinking invading your space was one massive mistake, an overstep in boundaries, but he's in too deep now. Grief will either fell you, or you will fell it—those are the only options, and he's tired of your hesitating. Hesitation means death.

Surprisingly, your door is unlocked, no light. You're a lump underneath your duvet, a pillow cuddled to your front, evidently on your side. He knows you're not asleep.

First, Levi makes a place on your dresser for the tray while he cleans off your bedside, then strikes a match for your lantern. It wouldn't hurt at all to clean up around here.

Because he doesn't know what to say—what he could say. Some trauma goes beyond what words can do, so he pats your head with a little reverence before turning his attention back to the dresser. He hears you sniff.

"I brought dinner for you," he says again, opening and shutting drawers. "If you need anything..."

You don't stir until the first drawer shuts. With a sniff, you peek out from your pillow, and whimper. "Levi?"

"Yes." He turns back around, tray in hand, and sets it down at your bedside. Unsure of what to do, he simply stands. "Tell me what you need; you look like shit."

Your eyes close at this. "Thanks. Sorry... I didn't mean to have you clean, you... you don't have to do that."

"I can think of a few things I'm good at. For you," he replies.

An apology for nothing, and your hair is a mess. Your eyes look caked with eyeshadow and liner almost, the way they're rimmed red and hooded. Tired.

Giving you room to object, he sits himself beside your head, and the first sob escapes; a dry, hurt thing.

"I know. It hurts, I know," he tries to soothe, and turns. When a hand falls in your hair, you cry a little harder.

He frowns. "I'm here for you."

You accept the touch, but when your glittering eyes open, they're listless. "No. N-No. I'm alone. And it’s my own fault. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

He shakes his head, stunned, and scratches your scalp a little firmer. "You..."

Levi's eyes shut, combing his mind for what to say. He never allowed himself to get this bad after his friends passed, but for that, he arguably turned out worse than better. Those feelings, an old agony, washes back over him to see you this way. He never processed any of that. Those shitty demons.

"You never know how things will turn out," he settles. "They got unlucky; sometimes there's nothing we can do."

His comfort is in tune with your soft crying, so leans to rub your back in slow circles.

Easy enough, since you're facing him on your side. This is the most he's gotten from you in a whole week, so he'll call it progress. Some days, tears are the most you can do, and that counts.

"I know. I know that," you whimper. You wipe your shiny face and move your head over to his knee. "But..."

He encourages you to lay your head in his lap. "But it hits you in the same way every time. I—I know. You and I aren't different in that."

"We're not?" you whisper. In a drastic shift, your head turns and peers up at him through your sticky lashes.

His thumb traces your cheek. "No. You know how I got into the Corps, but... I had friends with me at the time. It was..." He swallows. "My first expedition. It was, difficult afterwards. Keeping th-them alive was my purpose for so long, but they got unlucky. It was the Titans.

"It'd be a disservice to me to say you're ever alone in the way you feel—at least when it comes to me. I can... do something. Whatever it is, I can do it for you."

Tears well up in your eyes, and Levi sweeps them away with his thumb.

"Thank you," you whisper, bullying one of your arms low around his waist.

His falls on your back again, holding you as you cry. "Yeah. Just know, I'm here. I've got you."

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#levi angst #levi ackerman angst #levi x reader #snk x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #aot drabble #levi drabble #levi ackerman drabble #1k.event

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kendsleyauthor · 1 year

Text

Eleven Hours: Part Two

Dark Future AU (Shot in the Dark)

~6300 words

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of captivity/dehumanization

Summary: After a harrowing night in the woods, Oliver is granted a brief moment of reprieve with Cliff, who isn’t quite sure what to make of him. With the enemy closing in, however, bullets soon start flying.

Co-written by the lovely @marydublinauthor 🌸

🌿 Eleven Hours Masterpost 🌿

Eyes wide and blank, Oliver looked up slowly at the furious titan. He wanted to snap back something to defend himself, but for once in his life, he had very little to say.

His sister giggled in his ear. Are you telling me that all we needed to do to shut you up was put a big, scary human in front of you?

“Y-yeah,” was all he managed to mumble in response, still locked in petrified eye contact with the human.

Those wide green eyes didn’t budge from Oliver as he set the weapon down against a tree. The man squinted, studying him in the shadowy light.

“Are your wings damaged?” The human knelt down, his wide shoulders blotting out Oliver’s view of the forest behind him. Oliver didn’t realize he was just gaping like an idiot until a huge hand waved overhead to snap him out of it. “Hey. Stay with me, buddy. Did they do something to your wings to keep you from flying?”

“I-it’s just mud, mostly,” Oliver finally croaked. He moistened his cracked lips. “You’re Cliff Everett, aren’t you?”

A nod. “Your name?”

“Oliver.”

“Alright, Oliver. You can’t stay grounded like that. Let’s get you patched up.”

And then a gigantic hand was barrelling for him. Fingers long as he was tall outstretched to clamp around his body–

Oliver scrambled out of reach with a yelp.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cliff’s hand was still extended, closing in. “We need to get that mud off your wings. It looks like it’s caked on pretty thick. I can help you.”

“I’m fine,” Oliver snapped.

A beat passed. “You’re fine,” Cliff echoed flatly. “On the ground, where you almost got smushed thirty seconds ago.”

Oliver grit his teeth hard. “Y-yep. Abso-fruit-ly.”

Did you just say ‘abso-fruit-ly,’ you psycho?

Cliff didn’t laugh. Oliver watched the looming hand like it was a monster on its haunches, ready to pounce. He braced himself to be seized against his will again, but to his surprise, Cliff sighed and pulled back.

“Fine. At least take this.” Cliff dug around in his jacket and produced a folded handkerchief. He held it out to Oliver.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s forty degrees out here,” Cliff said, and Oliver caught something sad in his gaze when he drew the cumbersome cloth around his shoulders.

The fabric was warm and immediately buffered the unforgiving wind that skirted through the woods. It smelled clean, though Oliver found himself still expecting a whiff of the vape smoke that clung to everything Grady owned.

“I wasn’t sure you were real,” Oliver said, bold enough to look Cliff in the eye. He raked his eyes over him in detail, solidifying a legend into flesh and blood. “The way some people talked, I thought you might just be a story. But… If you’re here, that means the safe house is real, too. You can still take me there, can’t you? Y-you have to.”

Something guarded sparked in Cliff’s eyes. He even leaned away, searching the ground around Oliver. “Where are the others? There’s supposed to be twelve of you, right? Is there anyone else here?”

“Nope. Just you, me, and the voices in my head.” Oliver attempted to smile, but it shattered immediately. He palmed his face with the handkerchief, shoulders trembling despite the newfound warmth. “Grady got a better offer, that stupid, lying bastard. I heard him talking with them. He got paid double to turn us over to those monsters.” Although Oliver tried to keep his grief locked away, he didn’t have the strength to fight the sobs that choked his answer. “Stars, I heard them screaming. And I-I… I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

When Oliver trailed off, Cliff cursed under his breath. Wiping tears away, Oliver examined Cliff’s face, trying to gauge if he truly felt bad, or if he was upset about not having a whole shipment of fairies to resell. Considering he hadn’t outright grabbed Oliver, he was willing to believe the former. Oliver pulled the handkerchief higher around his shoulders. Okay, he was really willing to believe it.

Oliver sniffled, trying to get a hold of himself. “Can we go?”

“Not yet.” Cliff raised his gaze, observing the woodland around them warily. “I had a bad feeling when I saw those trucks on the road. Chances are, they’re still out here. Can’t move ‘til they clear out of the area.”

Cocking his head, Oliver gave a bitter laugh. “They got what they came for. You think they’d stick around very long just to find one fairy?”

“They’re looking for me,” Cliff said with grim certainty.

“Oh. Well, I mean that’s definitely a possibility. But also, Grady might be pretty upset that I’m the only one who got away, so that’s always on the table, too.”

Cliff’s eyes locked back onto Oliver with such intensity that he drew back instinctively. “Did you get a look at the new buyers?” Cliff demanded. “Were they wearing a green patch on their shirts? Did you see the kind of equipment they had?”

“Iron smoke. But I couldn’t see what they were wearing. I was on a shoe.”

“Sorry, you were what?”

“Hey, at least I wasn’t seen.”

Far from looking impressed, Cliff eyed him up and down slowly. Then he gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not gonna bullshit you, Oliver. There’s something off about you.”

Oliver’s heart stuttered, but he smiled cluelessly. “Somehow, you’re not the first to say that.”

“I mean, a dozen fairies, and only one happened to find me?” With each word, his expression darkened, and Oliver found himself staggering back several steps. “How do I know they didn’t send you out here as a trap? You could have a tracker.”

Stopping where he stood, Oliver blanched. “A tracker? Where, under all the mud?” He scoffed, more offended than frightened by Cliff’s assumption. “What, do you think they threw me in the creek before they sent me to you?”

Cliff hardly looked convinced, and without the human saying a word, Oliver felt that he was losing him. Panic seized him.

“No,” Oliver snapped, a humorless laugh shaking through him. “No way I’m with them! You have to take me to the safe house! I didn’t almost drown, and almost get eaten by an owl, and almost chewed to the bone by gnats, and almost stepped on just so I could almost get saved!”

As Oliver’s voice rose with fresh emotion, the slightest touch of sympathy wavered at the back of Cliff’s hard stare, but it didn’t surface all the way.

“You want me to save you?” Cliff gave him another unimpressed look. “You won’t even let me touch you.”

“Yeah, shockingly, I’m not really jazzed about humans at the moment. But… but you can’t just leave me here!” He forced himself to shamble forward, still gripping the handkerchief tight as he pointed up at Cliff with both hands. “Because! Because. Think about it. If you’re right and I’m on their side, and you leave me, I’d just go to them and tell them where you are, right? And you don’t want that.”

Or he could just kill you and be done with your annoying ass, shit-for-brains.

Cliff lifted his chin suddenly, tracking lights moving in the distance. Oliver craned his neck to follow too, hopeful to see them headed for the horizon. His stomach sank when the trucks didn’t get any further away. They seemed to be circling the ground perimeter.

“Come on, we need to get out of the open.” Cliff stood and grabbed his gun, striding for the hidden vehicle. He paused there, still holding the shrubbery aside, and looked back at Oliver expectantly. “C’mon.”

Oliver could have easily walked right under most of the juniper spruce’s branches, but the gesture was appreciated all the same. He jogged over to join him, kerchief billowing out like a cape. Once side by side with the comparable giant again, he immediately sprinted another short burst to the base of the nearest tree—nervously eyeing those black boots.

“Don’t move,” Cliff said sternly.

As though reliving the same moment, he gave Oliver a particularly wide berth as he walked to the car. As he ducked into the passenger’s side door, he glanced over his shoulder to ensure Oliver was rooted in place. He returned with a bottle of water and a battered zipper bag. Each footfall still tremored violently through the ground, rattling every bone in his body. Oliver grit his teeth and dreamed desperately of being back in the air. His fingers dug painfully into the bark of the tree until Cliff took a seat on the ground and the earthquakes ceased.

“We may be here a while, unfortunately,” Cliff said, unzipping the pouch. “These guys won’t give up easily. Are you hungry?”

He held out a small cloth bag to Oliver—fairy-made. Oliver could smell the fresh contents without seeing them. He seized the offering like a frenzied animal and found dried fruit, a chunk of herbed bread, and slivers of hazelnuts and almonds packed inside. He plopped on his ass in the dirt and ate voraciously, only pausing for a quick “thanks” when Cliff set a fairy-sized jug of water at his feet, too.

He coughed, forced to slow down halfway through guzzling the water. He glanced up at Cliff out of the corner of his eye, wiping his mouth on the kerchief, wondering if he should be embarrassed by his pathetic reaction. The human was sorting dutifully through the pouch, fairy clothes pinched in his fingers. Surely, he had seen worse if the stories about him rang with any truth at all.

“These might fit you,” Cliff said, finally settling on a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved knit top. He held them out, but Oliver shook his head.

“Look at me. I’ll ruin them.”

Cliff‘s lips tugged into what Oliver could only describe as an endeared smirk. “I appreciate the thought, but the whole point is you not freezing to death.”

“Hm.”

“But I’m betting they’ll be more comfortable to slip into without half the river hanging off your back.” He set the clothes on his knee and laid his hand out palm-up. Trepidation seized Oliver once more.

“I won’t hurt you,” Cliff added. So softly, as though it might spare his pride.

“Once I have my flight back, I don’t need you to carry me around, just so you know,” Oliver announced nonetheless. “I’m very capable of getting around without humans.” His throat was bone dry as he looked up at Cliff’s face. “You promise not to rip them off, right?”

The gentle smile was disarming. “Yeah, I promise.”

He’d never been held by humans until his capture. Then, in the last nine months, he’d had more experience with hands than he ever cared to again. Hunters, workers, guests… They were always sweaty and rough and left him sore for days afterward. It betrayed every instinct to enter someone’s grasp of his own accord. Not even Grady had allowed him that, for all his affectionate gestures.

Oliver was unprepared for his boots to sink into Cliff’s skin, which despite being calloused in places, had considerable give to his weight. Heat radiated from the surface, and when Oliver wavered in one spot near the center, a finger twitched in reaction.

The moment he was seated, the ground vanished beneath him. Vertigo washed over him, and he gripped Cliff’s palm tightly as he was lifted up to eye level. It took every ounce of stubborn willpower not to lose the food he’d just feasted on.

“I’m gonna need to see your wings in order to help you,” Cliff said.

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin, unprepared for the sound of his voice that much closer. Steeling himself, Oliver shrugged off the kerchief and pulled it in front of him. He looped his hands through the folds like a security blanket. He was certain that Cliff wouldn’t intend to hurt him, but he braced himself all the same as the heat of the other hand approached.

Fingertips slipped between his wings, grabbing the upper right appendage. Cliff gave one scrape at the mud with his nail, and Oliver hissed, flinching severely.

Cliff pulled back at once. “That hurt?”

“N-no.”

The fingertips returned. “Then why’d you do that?”

“Just practicing.”

Cliff began to scrape again. “You’re shaking.” He sounded more concerned than accusing.

“Well, I have a giant pawing at some very vital limbs,” Oliver reasoned. “But don’t let me distract you.”

Despite Cliff’s gruff demeanor, his touch stayed gentle. Without tugging too hard on Oliver’s wings, he managed to remove most of the muddy layers with his fingers alone. Oliver still jumped a little at each new contact, but he gradually relaxed, particularly when the weight of the grime diminished.

The final layers were the most stubborn. Cliff used water and a clean cloth to get at the clumps of dirt that stuck to the gauziness of Oliver’s wings. Cliff paused as he was finishing up. Setting aside the cloth, he pinched the tip of one wing and held it out. Oliver looked over his shoulder, going rigid when he saw how closely Cliff was narrowing his eyes at the damaged membrane.

“You didn’t tell me about the iron,” Cliff said.

“No offense,” Oliver said, timidly easing away to free his wing from the human’s grip, “but I was a little iffy about you knowing that my magic wasn’t at full capacity.” He hesitated, then turned slowly on Cliff’s palm to fully see his face. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. It was just a little touch—I’ve had much worse before. Absolute agony by comparison.”

That didn’t seem to cheer Cliff up.

Embracing the lightness of his wings, Oliver fluttered them experimentally. He let the kerchief drop as he hovered above Cliff’s palm. He didn’t last long, slumping back down into the hand after a few moments. Mud or not, exhaustion and cold still had a grip on him.

“You okay?” Cliff asked.

“I think I’ll take those clothes now.”

It was a relief to be out of the human’s hand, but Oliver found himself missing the warmth as he changed in the brush beside the tree. Luckily, the new clothes were much thicker than the mud-crusted outfit he’d been dragging himself through the forest in.

Emerging from around the tree trunk, Oliver found Cliff checking his weapon. It was a chilling sight. Although he swore he could sense some faint iron somewhere nearby, at least it didn’t seem to be from the bullets within the gun. Not that non-iron bullets would do any less damage if they were aimed at him.

Although the weapon wasn’t an active threat to him, Oliver found himself wondering if his magic was any more agreeable. Drawing a deep breath, he cupped his palms together and muttered an incantation. A spark—bigger than he anticipated—crackled within his hands.

He jumped delightedly, laughing with triumph. “It’s back! Finally! Let me know if the gnats are bothering you.”

Cliff turned to look at him, wariness darkening his features when he saw Oliver playing with a ball of lightning.

“I should’ve known this was your affinity,” Cliff scoffed.

“You don’t seem that thrilled for me.”

“I am, trust me. Deep down.” He shook his head, letting out a small hiss between his teeth. “I’ve just had a few run-ins with lightning fairies that I’d rather not think about.”

“Who hasn’t?” Oliver raised his eyebrows at him. “But hey, at least I’m not a—”

“Fire fairy.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped with intrigue. “Not a fan, either, are you? You’ve had some run-ins with them too?”

“Every day of my life.”

“Me too.” Oliver regarded the lightning in his hands for a few moments before extinguishing it. Maybe dousing his magic would make him seem like less of a threat as he treaded carefully on his most pressing subject. “Lots of fire fairies at the safe house?”

Cliff’s full attention flickered down to him, sizing him up. “We’ll see.”

“Come on, look at this face. You really think I’m lying to you?”

“You certainly wouldn’t be the first.”

Frustrated tears prickled at the back of Oliver’s eyes. He wanted to grab Cliff by the shoulders and shake him. “What the hell can I do to make you believe me?”

Cliff’s voice lowered. “I don’t know.” He frowned deeply, running the cloth over parts of the weapon that had been already cleaned. He worked in silence for an uncomfortable moment, as though reliving something awful—Oliver was afraid to ask. “I’ll get you somewhere safe. But no promises about where. I’ve got others to protect too. I won’t risk them for anything.”

Oliver’s heart sank like a stone. Desperate, he shuffled closer. “Cliff, er… Mr. Everett–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Cliff, please. You have to believe me.”

Those green eyes rested on him again, searching. “We’ll see.”

Oliver felt his frustration bubbling into currents of electricity under his skin. He balled his fists to keep it at bay. He was still discerning what he could possibly say next when the ground under his feet gave another faint shiver.

But Cliff wasn’t moving.

Oliver whirled to face the way they’d come. It was distant, but he was growing far too familiar with the resonance of human tread.

“Oliver?” Cliff sat to attention behind him.

Then, he heard it too. Voices.

Flashlight beams began to reflect off their surroundings—already far too close for comfort.

Oliver‘s chest constricted as it became clear that they were brutally outnumbered. “Oh, fuck. Oh stars, they’re…”

“Not a word,” Cliff breathed. He leaned over to peer through the foliage, grip tightening on his weapon.

Oliver wished he had even the slightest affinity for glamour. Then he could hide them. He could compel the searchers to walk right past them without a clue where they were. But then again, if he were a glamour fairy, he’d likely be suffering a far worse fate than a menagerie.

Keeping his mouth shut tight, he eased forward to peek past the lowest branches. Humans shifted in and out of view among the trees. Shivering, Oliver was prepared to retreat closer to the safety of Cliff, but he froze when he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—Grady. He was searching along with the others, flashlight in hand.

All at once, fear and sorrow meant nothing. Unbridled rage poured in. The lightning that had been running a current under his skin threatened to burst from him like a storm. And this time, he would allow it.

“You,” he whispered.

This was all Grady’s fault. If he hadn’t gone for the bigger paycheck, then Oliver and the others would’ve been on their way to the safe house. Instead, Oliver had been put through a night of hell, and the others… They were on their way to suffering a fate worse than death.

Oliver’s wings buzzed to life. Golden lightning cracked and snapped in his palms. He darted up, but he didn’t even make it out of the foliage before he was yanked back by his shirt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cliff demanded, pulling him closer between a finger and thumb. “Put it out before they see the light!”

“Let go! Grady’s there!”

“Oliver—”

“He deserves to fry for what he did!” Oliver kept flapping his wings, as though he could drag Cliff along with him. He was trembling again, but not from fright or cold—fury coursed through his veins into his magic, making him feel like he could level a human city. He shot a glare back at Cliff. “If I kill him, will you finally believe me?”

“This isn’t going to help you!” Cliff’s other hand approached, impatiently attempting to corral him into a fist. “There’s too many of them. Just calm down.”

“No!” Oliver lashed a hand out and shocked Cliff. It was a fraction compared to what he planned to do to Grady, but it was enough to make the human let go instinctively.

Beating his wings harder, Oliver burst through the foliage. Grady had his back to him in the distance, heading the other way. Oliver charged up another spell. It glowed brilliantly in his hands, nearly blinding him. It would be more than enough to ground Grady even from far away. Gritting his teeth, Oliver wound his arm back to launch the spell out.

Before he could unleash hell, Cliff’s hands returned with a vengeance and clamped entirely around Oliver.

It shouldn’t have been a problem breaking free. But his magic was snuffed out in an instant. It felt like he had plunged back into the ice water of the creek again, unable to draw a full breath. He squirmed in the darkness. Instead of skin, cloth pressed around him. He was still processing what happened when he heard a human shout in the distance.

“Over there! I saw a light!”

Oliver choked on what little breath he had. He writhed furiously, piecing together that Cliff had donned iron-laced gloves to kill his magic. It didn’t burn him. It just left him entirely helpless to create so much as a spark. He went into a vicious panic, kicking and pounding against the gloved palms and fingers surrounding him.

“Let me go!” he wailed.

“I’m sorry.” Cliff’s voice was close, muffled but rumbling. “If you go out there guns blazing, we’re both fucking dead, do you understand me?”

“I could’ve killed him!” Oliver’s voice cracked. His beating fist hit with less vigor as the iron fatigue set in. His wings twitched and tried uselessly to unfurl against Cliff’s grip. “Let me go! I can kill him!”

“And he’d deserve it. But there’s a better way to get your revenge. Like surviving.”

Oliver’s escape attempts became more difficult when Cliff stood, rocking him onto his side hard. The fingers twitched tighter around him. When he paused, panting, Oliver could hear the other humans closing in.

“I saw it, too.”

“It’s the lightning one. I told you he was still out here!”

Grady’s voice. Oliver forgot to breathe. The lightning one.

“Fuck,” Cliff rumbled.

The hands opened up, moving with a speed that Oliver’s half-sedated mind struggled to comprehend. He saw the urgency darkening Cliff’s expression, a black handgun pulled out of a holster strapped to his thigh. Oliver heard himself mutter a threat at the human as his weak form was prodded into the vacated holster. He groaned, picking himself up in the cramped and metallic-smelling space.

“Cover your ears,” Cliff barked down at him seconds before chaos exploded in the woods.

The first shots came from Cliff—holding them off before they could close in on his position. From the cover of the car, he took six more shots. Judging by the howls of agony that sounded out, a few of them hit their marks.

Gunfire returned—too many bullets to count. Cliff dove back behind cover, and Oliver nearly bit his tongue, slamming against the other side of the holster. The container’s shape made it difficult to see anything happening out there. The sounds were too much, even with his ears covered. Deafening impacts of bullets tore against the metal of the car, shattering the windshield and sending glass shards raining down around them.

Cliff launched to his feet again, returning fire. Ducking down. Returning again. It was a sickening rhythm.

But the voices were thinning out. Oliver couldn’t help it—he listened, he listened for Grady’s voice but couldn’t hear it among the injured. Maybe he’d been shot somewhere critical. Maybe he was already dead.

Massive footfalls crashed closer, determined to overwhelm Cliff before they could be taken out at a distance. The proximity made Cliff’s movements even more unpredictable and nauseating. Oliver put his hands out on either side to brace himself as best he could.

Another explosion from Cliff’s gun. A body thumped on the ground.

An empty click. No more bullets. But the other assailant seemed to be in the same situation.

Oliver could feel the other human charge at Cliff, and in the blink of an eye, they were fighting hand-to-hand. The whirlwind of movement almost made Oliver miss the ear-shattering bullets. He found himself tossed from side to side with each movement of Cliff’s leg as he dodged and charged from one second to the next.

Things turned dire the moment the humans fully collided. A crushing weight pressed into the holster, making the material cave in on itself. Adrenaline single-handedly erased his exhaustion. Oliver scrambled upward, trying to claw his way out before he could be pulverized.

He looked overhead in time to see Cliff’s fist lash out and land a blow on the assailant’s jaw.

The pressure eased as the human was thrown off, but when he reared back, he returned with a punch that sent Cliff sprawling onto his back. The fall seemed both neverending and instantaneous. Before Oliver knew what was happening, he spilled out of the holster and onto the cold ground. He groaned, pushing himself to sit up.

A knee crashed mere inches from him. A massive hand landed not far. He couldn’t tell which body part belonged to which human as they grappled on the forest floor.

If I live, I’m never touching the fucking ground again.

It seemed a very slim chance he would get a chance to keep that promise. He found himself frozen all over again. The humans didn’t relent, two mountains duking it out right above him, hell-bent on killing each other. The assailant grabbed Cliff by the collar and dragged him up. Cliff swung a fist out and connected—a noise that could have rivaled gunfire from where Oliver stood.

He wanted to flee, but his wings wouldn’t respond even when he staggered to stand. He felt like any move he made would be the wrong one—the exact one that would put him in the path of an unpredictable boot as the giants hefted their celestial weight around.

In his petrified state, Oliver felt a spark at his fingertips. He glanced down, startled that he could produce anything. But Cliff’s awful gloves hadn’t burned him directly. Now that he was free and terrified out of his mind, his magic could do what it was meant to—save his ass from creatures that were big enough to crush him without a second thought.

Throwing both hands upward, Oliver shot a jolt of lightning straight for the assailant’s chest. Sparks ate at the front of his jacket, tiny flames eating at fabric and flesh. The human gave a deafening shout and locked up with pain, clutching his front.

Cliff didn’t hesitate to sweep the man’s legs out from underneath him. He tackled the assailant away from Oliver. Still, the ground rattled so hard that Oliver fell back to a hard seat.

He watched in a daze as Cliff swept a rock up from the ground. Something told Oliver to look away, but he couldn’t. The man started pleading, his words nearly incomprehensible in his desperation. Cliff swung the rock down once, twice, three times.

The attacker fell still.

The woods were silent. Even the crickets were too stunned to make a sound.

With labored breaths, Cliff slowly got to his feet. His hulking silhouette loomed motionless as he surveyed the bodies. He grabbed his rifle, marching out to tread between them, pausing occasionally for a closer look. He nudged one in the side with his foot. When the man loosed a weak groan, Cliff shot him in the head.

Then, the silence was absolute.

Oliver couldn’t help but feel betrayed by his own numbness. He was scared, but he should have been screaming. The acrid pulse to survive seemed to overtake all logic. Still, his chest tightened when Cliff’s eyes, still wild from the shootout, locked onto him.

Oliver didn’t dare budge as the human approached. Cliff set the rifle down on the battered hood of the vehicle and chucked off the iron-laced gloves as he walked, each step measured.

“You okay?” His voice was roughened from exertion. He crouched down and scooped Oliver off the rotting leaves and twigs.

Oliver felt like he couldn’t pull in a full breath—not enough to form something coherent. His ears were still echoing the catastrophic impacts of the fight, his mind still battling denial that he had survived by some miracle.

Moonlight illuminated something slick and crimson on Cliff’s left shoulder, and his voice launched back into his throat.

“You’re hurt,” Oliver gasped. He leaned forward. “They shot you.”

Clif smirked as he glanced towards the injury, but there was a tight clench to his jaw. “I’ve had paper cuts worse than this.”

Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

“Wow. I’m afraid to ask what kind of paper you’re handling.” Oliver stared at the wound, sitting back slowly on his heels as guilt crashed onto his shoulders. The massacre around him didn’t seem real. His spark had been the catalyst—that seemed even less real. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “He just—he was all I could see. I was too mad to think.”

“Yeah, well.” Cliff couldn’t seem to deny that Oliver had caused the shootout, but at least he didn’t seem too angry about it. “That was a good shot back there. I would’ve come out much worse if you hadn’t done it, so thanks.”

This drew Oliver’s eyes back to the dark spot on his jacket sleeve. “Not to be negative, but the way you did come out isn’t great, either. I… I’m sorry, I don’t know healing spellwork. I-I mean I have some affinity for it, but I never learned much. My brother always did it for me, so I never really needed—”

“S’okay,” Cliff said, cutting off his ramble. “I happen to know the best healer in the world. Just gotta make it to her.” With that, he started back toward the car.

Oliver bit his tongue to keep from immediately asking if this miraculous healer happened to be at the safe house. Best not to push the matter about the place—not when he was the one who got Cliff shot. But he could at least assuage some of his guilt and prevent Cliff from gritting his teeth through a massive wound.

“Wait!” Oliver said. “Maybe I can stop the bleeding. I can try to close it up for you with the heat from my lightning.”

Stopping in his tracks, Cliff frowned at Oliver, then looked pointedly at the human that Oliver had attacked. The burn on his chest seemed more pronounced than Oliver remembered in the chaos.

“Oh, that?” Oliver waved it off like it was nothing. “That was adrenaline. I’m fucking drained now. I promise not to put a bigger hole through your arm. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Cliff didn’t appear particularly comforted by Oliver’s promise. He must have been in a great deal of pain, though, because he relented and ferried Oliver to the bullet wound. Summoning his glow, Oliver saw that the blood didn’t show any sign of stopping. Inching closer to the edge of Cliff’s palm, he reached out and ripped the hole in the fabric wider. The hand holding him twitched from that simple action; Oliver knew to brace himself then.

This time, making a spark didn’t come as easily. After a second attempt, Oliver managed to conjure a weak spark with what little energy he had left. He pushed the crackling spell through the hole in Cliff’s jacket, honing in hard on the heat and willing away the zap so Cliff wouldn’t get shocked.

“Shit,” Cliff muttered through clenched teeth as the wound was painstakingly cauterized.

The fingers around Oliver flinched in response to the fresh pain. He had to fight the urge to flee from the very real possibility of being accidentally crushed. It would be a fitting end to a perfectly disastrous night, but he sighed in relief as he finished sealing the wound and pulled his hand away without having his bones snapped. Fatigue made his head spin the moment he put out the spell.

“How does it look?” Cliff asked, echoing a far more gusting take on Oliver’s sigh.

Oliver blinked hard to focus his vision and winced at the result of his spellwork. “The bleeding stopped,” he said cheerfully. “But the world’s best healer might strangle me when she sees it.”

“Her bark is worse than her bite. Thanks for this. I know you’re tired.”

His hand lowered back to waist level and Oliver grit his teeth as gravity seized his insides once again. Cliff produced a penlight, using the narrow beam of light to analyze the damage done to his vehicle. The entire left side was freckled with bullet holes, windows jagged. The flashlight lingered on two deflated tires, to which Cliff muttered a curse.

He knelt by the back tire, where the sharp smell of gasoline strengthened. Cliff groaned, craning his neck to survey the last drips pooling into a large puddle under the car.

“Fuel tank’s punctured, too. Fuck.” There was something dreadfully weary about the way he pocketed the light and rubbed his temples.

“It won’t run?” Oliver asked in a thready voice.

“Afraid not.”

Cliff pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Where a droning dial tone should have filtered down, Oliver heard nothing. Cliff tried again—nothing. After several increasingly urgent attempts to send a message, he slammed his fist against the car.

“Signal’s gone,” Cliff snarled. “I bet those fuckers got to the cell tower.” Oliver saw the underside of his jaw clench hard as surveyed the woods. “We’re on foot out of here. They’ll still have eyes on the menagerie and the main road. No way around it.”

Oliver gave a start. “What? How far?”

“Probably in the ballpark of eight hours, if we make good time. Hop off for a sec.” Cliff had lowered his hand to the battered hood of the car, which Oliver now understood as his invitation to dismount.

“Eight hours?” Oliver’s breathing began to quicken. He staggered toward the edge of the hood to make his voice heard the rustling and clatter of Cliff gathering supplies from the backseat into a rucksack. “Hang on. Is that even possible? I-I mean, you’re injured and so am I. I can’t even do magic consistently to help, with this stupid fucking iron exhaustion. I can barely fly—”

“Shut up.” Cliff stopped so abruptly, Oliver sucked in the rest of his rant. The human sighed, seeming to contemplate before he pinned him with a hard look. “Look. We can either sit here freezing our asses off until Atlas sends another crew out to finish us off… Or we can put in the fucking work and do what we need to do to get through this.”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t whine further, even though he wanted to really, really badly. After the hell he went through in the forest, finding Cliff should have been the end of his fight to survive. Now there was more fighting to do, and he had a feeling that Cliff was going with or without him.

Biting back a wince, Oliver flew up. His wings ached terribly, and he could feel Cliff’s intense stare.

“It’s fine,” Oliver said. Cliff rolled his eyes and went back to hastily organizing his supplies. “It is,” Oliver insisted.

Cliff slung the bag over his shoulder. “Just keep up,” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t believe Oliver was capable of that simple command.

As they began to move out, the pain in Oliver’s wings was forgotten when he glimpsed the body that Cliff had just finished off with a shot. A gasp caught in Oliver’s throat. He stopped a hover, goosebumps prickling up his arms. “Oh,” he blurted. “Shit.”

Grady.

Half his face was unrecognizable from the rifle shot. Otherwise, he looked like was only sleeping. Although Oliver half-expected Cliff to simply keep walking, he did pause to follow his stare.

“That’s him?” Cliff asked after a beat of heavy silence.

Oliver nodded. “Huh. If I’d known it was him, I would’ve asked you to hold off. You know, so I could at least tell him off.”

He tore his eyes away from the body, something roiling in him that he couldn’t put a name to. Not relief or satisfaction, or anything that he wanted. Grady was gone from this world, but the fairies he’d sold out were still forced to live in misery and torture.

“What if we go back toward the menagerie?” Oliver said, flitting closer to Cliff. “Maybe… maybe the others are still there! We could get them out, and—”

“They’re not there,” Cliff said flatly, and began walking again. “These people don’t linger with their precious merchandise. If anyone’s still stationed at the menagerie, it’s without your friends.”

“But how can you be one hundred percent—”

“Oliver.” Cliff stopped to glare over his shoulder. “You said it yourself. We’re both injured. I don’t have the resources to get anywhere near that place and make it out alive. We’re lucky we survived this round.” He resumed walking.

Huffing, Oliver glumly relented and flew ahead. “May as well argue with an actual mountain,” he muttered.

A pathetically short amount of time passed before Oliver was struggling to stay in the air. He dipped several times and caught himself; the time between falls was quickly getting shorter, and the ground was getting closer.

When Cliff silently put a hand out in his direction, Oliver tried to ignore it. Soon enough, he was faced with the inescapable choice—the human’s hand, or the ground. He gracelessly chose the former, stumbling to land on hands and knees on Cliff’s palm. His face was burning red from exertion and embarrassment.

He tipped his chin up at Cliff, biting back any tell of intimidation. “Just so you know—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need me. Once you can fly without nose-diving, the free rides are over.”

((Author’s note: Listen I fully support Oliver going feral to get to Grady. Cliff can take a bullet 😌))

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giuliadrawsstuff · 2 years

Text

Gone.

They were fucking gone.

In the blink of an eye.

Gone.

Body parts everywhere. Scattered in their own blood.

Steam was still billowing from the dead Titan. The iron smell of blood pierced his nostrils, stabbing through his brain, driving him mad. He'd never been shocked by its smell but now it was too much. It was their blood. Their smell.

Yet he couldn't move, as much as he wanted to, he was paralyzed, stunned, kneeling on the ground. His hands were caked in blood, the dense red liquid slowly rolling along his fingers in rivulets, down the tips and pooling on the ground.

The pain was so intense it numbed all his senses. He didn't feel anything.

They were just gone.

Forever.

He would never see them again.

He knew the risks but he never really believed it would actually happen.

But it did.

And now he was alone.

Alone, among all these upper world, fancy, self-righteous, pompous buffoons.

All his plans gone to shit in an instant.

Nothing left for him.

He lost track of time. For what seemed like an eternity he stayed like that, kneeling, immobile, bloody hands, head bent.

Then, he suddenly felt something unfamiliar surrounding him. Strong arms embraced him tightly from behind, a head rested on his back, thighs appeared hugging his.

No one said anything for a while, but the hug held on tight and safe. He started to slowly melt into it.

Only when Levi's muscles started to actually relax into their arms did Hange whisper "I'm sorry."

#my art #levihan #attack on titan #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #shingeki no kyojin #drabble #cuddles #hug #no regrets

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maries-gallery · 3 years

Text

I- Teeth

Index of the series

Warnings : violence, blood, gore, deaths

Author’s note : Just a reminder that in this series all characters are aged up (for practical and legal reasons) and that as a result it will be slightly different from the original plot of the anime/manga. This chapter was also more of an introduction so please bear with me for now.

Another morning in the far corner of Shiganshina district. The wind blows away the remnants of sleep in your eyes, the basket you carry heavy with berries as you make your way home from your early morning walk. The grass tickles your ankles, your mother’s words like a far away whisper in your ears.

“Today’s going to be special. I can feel it.” She had said, soft smile on her lips and eyes lost in the horizon shadowed by tall walls you’ve learned to call home.

A light frown had crossed your features, head tilted to the side in a silent invitation for her to enlighten your confusion. And to your disappointment she had simply shrugged her shoulders, returning to the bushes at her feet, skilfully stripping it of its berries. Plump and ripe from the Sun and blue sky above.

You hadn’t paid it any mind back then, after all it was frequent for her to have this kind of intuitions. Last time she had called a special day, you had been able to buy some cake from the baker. A very special treat these days.

And you can still remember the utter happiness on your little brother’s face as you had revealed the cake for desert, dimples creasing his cheeks as he beamed brightly, cream on the corner of his lips. You had wiped it off with your thumb and had teased him for having a sweet tooth, for being such a messy eater. Much like your father, Rio had always loved sugary things.

But for all you knew, today had nothing out of the ordinary. The birds had chirped the same music in your ears as you had left the comfort of your sheets, cool morning breeze had caressed your cheeks as gently as the day before and the same people had been going out and about.

Indeed, everything had been totally normal. Until a thundering noise had reached your ears, the strong walls of Shiganshina crying as a Titan like none you had ever seen before crushed it with its fists. Leaving the city in full exposure to the other creatures outside. Titans soon flood the streets, running after their next meal. Human flesh.

“(Y/n) !” Your mother’s voice shakes you out of your daze, limbs paralysed by fear as you watch the city you knew go down in chaos. Eyes wide as you turn to face her, blood trickling down her temple like thick ink, usual calm brown eyes rippling with fear. “Don’t stand there, run !”

And you do.

Adrenaline wracks your nerves as you take off running, shaking off the screams and begs for help tearing through the air and the dust burning your lungs. You don’t know where you are off to, legs carrying you as far away as possible from the terror behind you. Not like you have the time to think of a plan or direction anyways, Titans already hot on your tale and your instinct pushing you forward.

“We need to find your father and Rio !” Your mom shouts, her voice trickles with fear. Fear of you not making it out, fear of leaving your brother and father behind. And you can barely hear her though the deafening chaos around you.

You nod wordlessly, words trapped in your throat as your eyes fall on a dismantled corpse not far from you. A man you had known as a neighbour. His eyes now rolled back and white as a ghost, crimson blood and organs oozing from his stomach to cover the floor in a heap. His legs and upper body are nowhere to be seen.

You gag, sick at the sight, nausea washing over you as the thick scent of death assaults your nose. Your heart wells up in your chest and your head spins, throat going dry with bile.

“Mom-” You choke out, a sob tearing through you as you cover your mouth with your hand, a poor attempt at shielding yourself from the sickening smell.

She turns around and a stifled gasp falls from your mothers lips. You know she’s seen it too. Her hold on your hand tightens as she pushes through, shaking her head and carrying on with your escape. Her jaw tight with tension and features contorted with terror. For as much as she would have liked to grieve and stay the both of you couldn’t afford to spare a second. Time now a sweet delicacy.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. We’ll find them, okay ?” She says shakily, voice reassuring at the mention of your family. And you don’t know if this promise is for you or herself. Probably both.

You try to ignore the Titans you encounter, try not to think of your impending demise, the fact that one wrong turn could lead to your death. Razor like teeth sinking in your tender flesh as a scream rips through your throat. Try to shake off the ache lacing through your muscles as exhaustion dawns on you.

Because there is no time to stop and rest, your mind whirring with thoughts of your brother and father.

They had stayed home this morning. Your home at the edge of Shiganshina, close to the wall.

Suddenly a hand latches onto your arm, breaking your train of thoughts. Dread fills your veins as you spin around, ready to face another person on the brink of death. But you’re greeted with no such sight, relief to floods your limbs as you’re met with a familiar jacket. The Military Police. A man in his fourties probably, you had seen once in the streets, drinking and laughing with his friends.

Any trace of mirth and amusement now replaced by the void of fear and terror. His features stretched and pale.

“This way !” He shouts, arm gesturing to the mass of people hurrying out of the city through the gates, guided by other members of the military. Not like your mother and you had plans on going anywhere else.

Your mother nods quickly and rushes the two of you to the open gates with a determined frown between her brows. You tug on her dress, halting in your steps. Your heart hammers in your chest as it swells with panic and anxiety.

You have yet to find your dad and brother. Were you really going to leave them behind ?

“We can’t go without them !” You cry, desperately hoping she’d stop. Your brother’s grin flashes through your mind and the scent of his shampoo fills your senses as you remember how you had lovingly kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair this morning before going off. Tears sting your eyes at the thought of this being the last time you’d ever see his smiling features and hear his voice.

No, you can’t leave without your father and brother. If you’re getting out of this place it is together. Because there’s no chance they are dead, right ? Your father would have never allowed such a thing to happen.

Yes, they are safe. You just have to wait for them and then you’ll be able to flee from Shiganshina and off to the safety of the neighbouring district. Right ?

But your mother doesn’t budge, hold on your wrist tightening as she drags you to the crowd of military men and other terrified inhabitants. Not sparing you a glance in fear you’d perceive the uncertainty and grief in her eyes. She has very little hope for the other members of your family.

“Mom !” You insist, voice breaking under the weight of indignation and despair. “Please ! We just have to wait and they’ll-”

Abruptly, she comes to a halt.

“Listen !” She whips around to face you, anger and panic bubbling in her chest as she stares at you, “You wait here and get in with the others. I’ll wait for them and then we’ll join you.” She clarifies, trying to remain calm and reassuring for your sake. But you hear the tremor in her voice. Her hands tremble as she cups your cheeks and presses a lasting kiss to your forehead.

The gesture leaves a bitter taste in your mouth as she reluctantly pulls away with a loving smile, warm brown eyes glazed over with tears she attempts to hold in.

“Get to safety, okay ?” She says quietly, barely audibly, leaving you no time to answer as she shoves you in the arms of a man standing beside you. Another member of the military. “Take her with you !”

The man turns around with a surprised gasp, acknowledging your presence and nodding with a yes ma’am. Poor him had no time to process what had just happened, settling with accepting his new task.

But you don’t even bother to raise your head and face your supposed saviour, eyes following the departing figure of your parent as she makes her way through the animated throng of people, shouting your brother’s name like a desperate prayer to the gods above.

“Rio !”

“Mom !” You cry after her, thrashing in the hold of the guard as he pulls you over his shoulder and runs in the direction of the gates. No time to deal with your tantrum. “Mom !”

Your cries fall on deaf ears, hand hopelessly reaching out to her as she grows smaller and smaller in your vision. She can’t leave you like that, can she ?

“Let me go !” You roar and shake with anger, thrashing in the man’s hold, your nails digging in his skin to try and wriggle out of his grasp. “Let me go !” You repeat, throat dry from screaming.

“We need to go, kid !” He retaliates, looking down at you with apologetic eyes. Only feeding your anger and rage. How dare he makes the choice for you ?

You know he’s only trying to help, and considering their usual uselessness you should be glad that a member of the military police actually took it upon himself to look after your safety.

But your family is still out there, in danger, and you won’t be leaving without them.

So it is with a tinge of shame that you kick and punch him in the chest, a painful gasp falling from his lips as he drops you to the ground. You hiss as your body hits the ground with a thud, pain shoots through your limbs. But you’ve got other priorities and your injured arm can wait. In a hurry, you scuffle to your feet and push past the maze of unfamiliar faces.

That’s when you see them, eyes widening and utter joy swelling in your chest as you catch sight of your father, holding Rio in his arms. The both of them seemingly safe and sound.

You’ve got no time to call out for him before he’s smiling over at your mother through the crowd. They both run into each other’s arms. Rio’s eyes fall on you and he extends his arms forward, hurrying over to the safety of your embrace.

Your heart breaks at the sight of tears trickling down his puffy cheeks, red from exhaustion.

“Rio !” You shout his name, happiness laced through your voice as you catch him in your arms. And your own eyes water, both from the climax of your tension and the unbridled relief of seeing his face.

“(Y/n) !” He cries, arms snaking around your waist as he buries his head in your warmth. You embrace him tight, scared to let him go and discover this had all been a merciless trick of your mind.

Thank God, thank God...

“I was so so scared.” He chokes out between sobs, hands balling into fists on your dress.

Your hand comes to his head, smoothing over his locks as you shush him. Wishing you could take it all away from him, the things he saw, the things he heard...

“I know.” You whisper. “But it’s fine now, okay ? We’ll get through these doors and it’ll be fine. I promise.” You continue, hold on him tightening with your silent promise to protect him.

“Promise ?” He looks up into your eyes, hazel irises trembling with a new wave of tears. And you nod, knowing you’d do whatever it takes for things to get better. A new life awaited you in Trost.

“Promise.”

And you thought this’d be the end of it, that your family and you would finally be able to flee and go to safety.

But from then on it all happens so quickly. None of you seeing the monster looming over your parents. Already too late as panic and dread gape in your stomach when a hand too big to be human takes hold of your mother. Gruesome lips stretching in a smile to reveal teeth glinting like blades, tainted by remnants of human flesh.

You stare, frozen to the spot and eyes wide in disbelief as it grabs your father too before he can even shake out of his stupor.

Your mother screams and shouts, kicks and scratches. And before long she looks at you, lips silently wording a plea for you to run.

“(Y/n), run !”

You remain unbudging, cursing as your feet remain glued to the ground.

You want to help them, to run over and get them out of this deadly predicament. But you can’t, they are doomed already. Too late to rescue them.

“(Y/), get a grip !” Your father yells at the top of his lungs, stirring you out of your daze.

Finally, you move.

Your ears bleed as your parents cry, the sound of ripping skin filling the air and the world spins around you. A large amount of blood flying off as a first bite off your father’s leg is taken, a crimson drop falling on your sibling’s cheek, his eyes wide with horror as your parent’s deafening screams ring in your head. Rio’s hand is limp in yours as you run, too shocked to do anything but follow you on jelly legs.

“(Y/n) ! Mom-mom and dad they are-” He tries to speak, unable to finish his sentence.

Your heart shatters as Rio calls out to you, just like you had done with your mother earlier. Except this time there is nothing you can do to soothe his worries, nothing to reassure him and tell him it’ll be fine.

So you keep silent, your mother’s words on loop in your head.

Today’s going to be special.

You ignore the pain again, no time to cry. No time to wait for your parents’ screams to fade to nothingness now that death is hot on your tail.

Eyes fixed on the slowly closing gates, you pick up the pace, holding strong and fast onto your brother’s hand, your palms growing wet with anxiety.

Come on, just a bit more-

“(Y/n) wait !” Rio’s voice stirs you out of your contemplation.

But it’s too late. For when the words fall from his lips he’s already out of your grasp and tumbling on the ground. Head hitting first. An arm wraps around your waist and catches you as you threaten to fall with him. Pulling you back to safety.

Horror and dread turns your blood to ice as the last thing you see before Shiganshina disappears from view is your parents’ blood littering the ground and your brother’s unconscious body.

Taglist : @sunshinedragonofthewest @st-arlert @helloitsmedina @sofijaeger @levis-hazelnut @ob-levi-on @nelapanela94 @kpostedsum @jeagersruletheworld (as this series includes Eren pairing I have to tag you)

Send me a text if you’d like to be added !

#aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titans x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #;

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

can you still request love letters?

if you still can, I'd like to request a nanaba love letter!

about me: i'm pretty tall and lanky, i enjoy writing poems and 'im kind of a hopeless romantic. i'm really giggly and i've got such a crush on nanaba ;-; maybe in the letter she just recently asked me to marry her? if this is too much sorry uwu i'm just madly in love with her!!

my pronouns are she/her, could nanaba address me as 'dear' or 'my love'?

uhhh for the sfw/nsfw, maybe a bit of both? if i cant ask for that then sfw, please!

Nanaba’s Love Letter

I can’t get enough of you. Even now, when you are sitting right beside me I feel the need to write something for you because otherwise my chest might explode with all these feelings I have.

Right now, we are trying on flavors for our wedding cake and I can see the shine in your eyes every time they bring out a new one. If you ask me, the vanilla one is the best: It’s simple and delicious, a classic. But knowing you, you’ll probably go with some eccentric and expensive flavor, only to help the bakers pay for their child’s treatment.

You are kind and that is one of the things I love most about you. How you are constantly putting others first and taking care of every person who needs it. Your heart is as big as you are beautiful, my love.

I will not tell you but I will write on this letter what I see:

One of my favorite views is when I get home from a mission and you are waiting for me naked on the bed, your legs spread apart as you touch yourself just for me, my name falling from your lips and driving me insane.

Eating your pussy while I bury my fingers in you is better than any cake and if we could serve that at our wedding, I would. I want to put you on a plate and lick your wet little pussy from your clit all the day down so everyone can see how delicious you are.

Now we have to pick one of those things that go on top of the cake, what are they called? I never remember. I want a small sculpture of us killing a titan but you said it would be too gross. I think it would be funny as fuck.

I can’t wait to see you dressed in white, walking down the isle before Mike hands you to me. The simple thought of that scene makes my eyes water and I feel like the luckiest soldier within these walls.

Have I told you today how beautiful you are? Because wow you are simply stunning. Everything about you constantly takes my breath away. The way your hair looks in the sun, the color of your eyes, the way you look beautiful with titan blood dripping down your face.

I am so happy to spend the rest of my life by your side, I feel so lucky that I will be able to myself your wife in a few weeks. Y/N if I could propose to you once again I would.

You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, even with frosting on your nose and I hope you know my feelings for you will never change. You amaze me everyday and I can’t wait to see what our future will look like.

Your perfume is intoxicating and the smell of your skin after you shower makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’ve had a crush on you since the first times my eyes landed on you while we were still in the Cadet Corps.

I can’t wait to have sex with you later tonight and feel you clinging to me as you scream my name, your pussy tightening around my flingers.

I’m running out of paper but I just wanted to remind you that you are the only one for me and I love you so fucking much.

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yesokaythatsfine69 · 3 years

Text

Saving Grace

Description: Levi faces off against the female Titan but because of another recruit he is hurt. You must find him.

Characters: y/n, Levi, Hange, Jean, Eren, Mikasa

Warning(s): cursing, fluff

A/n: Hey guys, I've been on a binge of aot. Also there's a lot of x readers abt the reader getting hurt and Levi saving them, (I've written one) so I did the reverse of that. Also b sure to check out my HC's from my last post.

Word count:

Song: willow, by Taylor swift.

*none of the gifs used are mine, all credit goes to the maker.

You gripped the reins of your horse, your eyes flickering to the trees around you. Hange spoke beside you, roughly pulling the reigns of her house just to keep up with you. "Levi said he would meet us there, y/n." Yes, you remembered that. You also remembered vividly how he hadn't told you goodbye.

"y/n take the others to rendezvous with Hange's squad." Levi had been riding alongside you, much like Hange was now. He liked to keep close, usually never leaving your side. At his words you turned, eyes wide.

"Are you sure? We're-" He gave you a stern look, as if to remind you that he wasn't just 'levi' or 'captain frowny-face' he was 'Captain Levi.' you gripped your reins tighter and nodded, turning away from him. This wasn't apart of the plan, but captain asshole had heard something from behind you.

You were traveling with Eren, who was at the time unconscious, and several other cadets. Levi had been on edge, which made sense, neither of you were with your usual squad. And your greatest weapon was currently lying in an exhausted heap. "Victor, you're with me."

You gritted your teeth in shock and frustration. Why didn't he ask you to go with him? Victor was a new cadet. Shy. Tall. Fifteen years old, and awkward. He wasn't you. He also wasn't Levi's girlfriend, though.

You kept forward, even as you heard both Levi and Victor zip away. Bitterness made you focused. Neither of you said goodbye, as if you hadn't known and cared for each other deeply.

Now, you were riding back into the woods, facing the opposite direction. This exact situation reminded you of the time Levi and Mikasa had chased down the female Titan to rescue Eren. He came back with a broken ankle. That had been bad enough.

Levi missed the checkpoint. You waited long enough, and made to leave. Hange stopped you and invited herself along. You didn't ask why.

"I don't understand where the hell he could be." You said finally, stopping your horse. "Usually you can hear odm gear if the woods are quite enough." Hange stopped beside you. The woods were quite enough, yes. A few bird calls here and there. But there was no hissing of odm gear or thuds of titans.

Again you gritted you teeth. "Levi!"

--------------------------------------------------

When Levi woke up, or woke up enough to take in his surroundings, he wasn't in pain or in fear. He was leaning against a tree, on his knees. The air was light, and quiet. Sunshine beamed through the leaves of trees, and a bit of warmth hit his face.

He blinked and leaned his head back. He was tired, and if everything were as peaceful as it was right now, he didn't see any problem in drifting off once more.

The warmth on his face seemed to caress him, like the fingers of a lover. The tweets of a nearby bird lured him into darkness, and he relaxed.

"Levi!"

His eyes popped open. He didn't hear what was said, but nonetheless the sound was enough to shatter the peaceful state he was in. Disoriented, he lifted up his head from against the tree and looked side to side. His brow furrowed when he saw nothing around him. Just the glow of green, the warmth of sun.

There was no one around him. The sound or call began to drift from his conscious as if he'd never heard it to begin with. Again he lied his head against the tree.

And again his eyes fluttered shut. Levi couldn't remember ever being this tired, or maybe he was just always this tired. He couldn't remember. He guessed though, now it didn't really matter.

--------------------------------------------------

"He went this way, so they can't be far." You were still on your horse, and Hange was riding close behind you. "Y/n, the sun's going down. If we don't hurry it'll be dark before long." You nodded, and turned to your friend. "I'm going to check just a bit further, then we can leave."

You rode further, and the more you seemed to go deeper, the more eerie the words became. You'd always hated the forest, it creeped the fuck out of you. It wasn't even the fact that titans roamed the area. They were just the icing on the cake.

You got off your horse, gently leading the animal. "Where the hell is that-" Then you smelt it. Blood. You dropped the reins of your horse. "Levi."

Running forward, you followed the smell. Then...you found it's source. Victor's body was on the ground, his head missing. The ground was stained with his blood, and mere inches away was what was left of a Titan.

The picture was hellish. But something has to have killed that Titan. You doubted it had been victor. You went forward, walking past the bodies and the carnage.

At first you found nothing. No wires or odm gear, no body or movement.

Then you turned and light caught your eye. "Levi!" You gasped, your eyes meeting his body. He was leaning against a tree, on his knees. His arms were at his side, blood soaked.

Yet, despite all of this Levi looked scarily peaceful, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes closed. He never looked his height, really. Levi Ackerman seemed to tower among men in life, but now, now he had never appeared smaller to you.

The scene was horrifying.

You slide to where you were on your knees before him. You gripped his shoulders and shook them. "Levi!" You didn't remember crying but tears had begun to pour from your eyes in spades. He breathed, something like a gasp- and his eyes fluttered open.

"y/n?" You gasped out a laugh when he spoke, and pushed him into you. "Levi..." You pulled away, and gently pushed a stray hair from his face. His eyes were half lidded and you could tell he was out of it.

He felt like he was under water, and his movements were slow and hazy. You could see his disorientation in his eyes.

"why are you being so loud, y/n?" You moved to his right side, gently wrapping an arm in-between his knees. "I was trying to sleep." You hummed an apology as you pulled your other arm around his neck. "you can sleep on me, okay?" "Tch." Was his only verbal response, but he gently laid his head on your chest.

You lifted him up, thankful for his small frame and lean build. You carried him past the carnage, reminding yourself of where Victor's body was so it could be picked up later. "It's peaceful, isn't it, y/n?" Your eyes widened and you glanced down at Levi.

His eyes were closed and his head was still leaning against you. You swallowed. When you got to your horse, you put him up first, leaning his body against the neck of the animal. Then you slide in behind him, gently grabbing his hips and pulling him to lean on you instead. He turned his head, and opened his eyes, watching as you grabbed the reigns and began to leave.

His breathe tickled your neck, and his eyes heated your cheeks. Frustrated with his focus on you, you quipped, "As per the service fee for saving you, you have to make sweet love to me now."

Levi groaned, but leaned into you more, putting his head under your chin.

You met back up with Hange, (who would've made some comment about Levi's current position on your horse had he not looked so rough.) And began your ride back. His breath was even throughout the ride, but he seemed to remain in and out of consciousness, which disturbed you.

When you returned, medics helped you lift him from your horse.

"Don't worry y/n, we'll take care of him." A nurse assured you. "Humanity's strongest will be just fine."

-------------------------------------------------

Levi was swinging through trees, searching. Blood pumped in his ears, his heart thumping a mile a minute. An abnormal had attacked them, grabbing onto victor and disappearing, carrying the screaming fifteen year old with him. Hooking up his odm gear, Levi sprung after the Titan.

Finally, the ugly bastard stopped and turned to him, smiling as he bit off the head of the screaming boy, silencing him forever and spraying the entire area with his blood.

Then the Titan turned on him. Levi was able to take it down, but as he swung into the air, his gas emptied and he landed head first into a tree.

--------------------------------------------------

Levi gasped, raising off the bed he was on, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "What? What's wrong?" You stood up from your chair, having been half asleep yourself. Levi's eyes were wide until they adjusted to the room. It was dark, and he was on a bed.

In a moment he realized he in his own room. He rubbed his eye before he took everything in. He didn't have a shirt on, and he lifted the blanket to check underneath. You noticed his blush, even in the darkness of the room. "I figured you wanted to sleep in clean garments."

Levi ignored that and instead asked, "Victor?" You were silent for a second, thinking how to respond. It was too long for levi apparently and he pulled back his covers and moved to get up. "What-What are you doing?"

"I shouldn't be here- I-" You grabbed onto his arm and pushed him back. "There's no where else you should be, Levi." He gritted his teeth. "Captain."

Immediately you let him go, your eyes wide. Then they narrowed. Without thinking you slapped him, and the man flinched. Hair flying to cover his eyes.

You two were silent for several moments, and the room was tense.

"Why do...why are you so..." You groaned. "Fuck you." Levi said nothing, his face still down. Why'd you have to go by yourself? Why didn't you take me with you? These thought pulsed in your mind, causing your head to ache. Why couldn't he see that he was more than just your captain?

"I..." But most importantly why couldn't you just say this. "I know, y/n." You blinked. "I know...and I'm sorry." His shoulders shook. "I'm sorry." You immediately softened and within seconds you had wrapped up in your arms and pressed against your body.

You shushed him gently, until you lifted his face up to meet your own. Then you met his lips, softly connectings yours with his. He sighed into your mouth, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't want you to die, Levi."

Tears trailed down your face, and your grip tightened. "I don't just want to be another cadet to you."

He flinched, and wrapped his hands around your face. His raven orbs pierced your own, and gently laid his head against yours. "I just wanted to protect you...you don't know how many times, I've failed to protect...the people I love...I can't lose you, too."

You kissed his nose, "You can't just look out for me, you dolt." Levi frowned. "You gotta look out for humanity's strongest too, ya know." Levi nodded, and you smiled. Then you kissed him, twisting your head, and moving your lips against his.

It was salty but sweet as could be, you tugged against his bottom lip and he moved into you. However, you pulled away and gently placed your hands around Levi's face. You kissed his nose, each cheek, his forehead, every bit of him.

"tch, y/n," he tried to chase your lips but you doged, kissing his ear. "Y/n." He tried again, and this time you kissed his chin. "Please, just-" again, he tried and failed. He sighed, and relented, allowing you to kiss his entire face, head, and neck.

When you were done you pulled back away from him and squished together his cheeks. "Are you still up for some sweet love making?"

"I think I have a concussion."

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Thanks for reading! Requests are open!

#levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #aot imagines #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #x reader #imagines

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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 3 years

Text

I’m not sure if it was intentional or not (I’ll go with the benefit of the doubt and say it was), but the way that Martin sets up Arya at the House of Black and White is really smart. Within the fandom there is usually a lack of horror in regards to the HoBaW. Most of the focus is on Arya’s actions, which is definitely something to be looked at, and don’t really look at the fact that the Faceless Men are a cult indoctrinating an 11/12 year old. I think part of the reason for this is because by the time we get there we and Arya have been through a lot. We’ve been forced to disguise as a boy (despite popular belief that wasn’t really her choice), we’ve starved in the Riverlands, we’ve been enslaved at Harrenhal, we’ve traveled with the Hound, and we’ve seen the after mather of the Red Wedding. It’s been...a lot. And when we get to HoBaW the violence tones down and because it is so different from earlier chapters, you can almost over look it.

And on the surface this looks like an okay set up. Arya is finally eating enough to grow. She has a roof over her head. She is learning to speak different languages. She finds sorta friendship with Uma the Cook and that Waif. She wanted to be a Water Dancer...this is pretty darn close.

And Arya thinks about that too.

“Weese would have beaten her bloody if he had caught her in a lie, but it was different in the House of Black and White. When she was helping in the kitchen, Umma would sometimes smack her with her spoon if she got in the way, but no one else ever raised a hand to her. They only raise their hands to kill, she thought.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Her bed was stone, and reminded her of Harrenhal and the bed she'd slept in when scrubbing steps for Weese. The mattress was stuffed with rags instead of straw, which made it lumpier than the one she'd had at Harrenhal, but less scratchy too. She was allowed as many blankets as she wished; thick woolen blankets, red and green and plaid. And her cell was hers alone. She kept her treasures there: the silver fork and floppy hat and fingerless gloves given her by the sailors on the Titan's Daughter, her dagger, boots, and belt, her small store of coins, the clothes she had been wearing . . . “ - Arya II, AFfC

And since we are seeing this through her, we also get lulled into the sense of security. Maybe this wont be so bad. After all we’ve been through so much worse. Arya isn’t thinking about the price here. We stop thinking about the price. To really be part of the HoBaW she has to give up herself. Everything that makes Arya....Arya has to go away. Even if it is the tiniest detail.

For example after she becomes Cat of the Canals, every time she bites her lip she gets slapped.

“ Arya chewed her lip. "Would it work on dogs?"

"On any animal with warm blood." The waif slapped her.” - Cat of the Canals

“She bit her lip. "I—"

He slapped her.” - The Ugly Little Girl

And what’s so upsetting about the last example is that at this point she thinks she deserves it. Never has she thought she deserved it before.

“The blow left her cheek stinging, but she knew that she had earned it. "Thank you." Enough slaps, and she might stop chewing on her lip. Arya did that, not the night wolf. "I do deny it.” - The Ugly Little Girl

And its not just learning how to control your face. Learning poisons isn’t exactly an easy thing to do either.

“Poisons and potions were for the afternoons. She had smell and touch and taste to help her, but touch and taste could be perilous when grinding poisons, and with some of the waif's more toxic concoctions even smell was less than safe. Burned pinky tips and blistered lips became familiar to her, and once she made herself so sick she could not keep down any food for days.” - The Blind Girl

There is also the little matter of her personality. The Kindly Man seems pretty okay that she has a million questions and gets annoyed. What he doesn’t have time for is her morality. And Arya does have a moral compass. Rarely does she kill for no reason. You can argue the validity of the reason, but she has one. Which is a problem for a guild of emotionless assassins.

“He is an evil man," she announced that evening when she returned to the House of Black and White. "His lips are cruel, his eyes are mean, and he has a villain's beard.” - The Ugly Little Girl

“The kindly man chuckled. "He is a man like any other, with light in him and darkness. It is not for you to judge him.” - The Ugly Little Girl

This isn’t necessarily a bad lesson for Arya, who can be a bit black-and-white (no pun intended) in her reasoning. But the lesson isn’t about seeing multiple sides of the story. Its about killing a person because that’s the assignment.

And the thing is...its kind of working. Not well, mind you. She still kills Raff the Sweetling(if the TWoW ever comes out) and has wolf dreams. But we do see her think of herself as separate from Arya.

“Bring me the face," said the kindly man. The waif made no answer, but she could hear her slippers whispering over the stone floor. To the girl he said, "Drink this," and pressed a cup into her hand. She drank it down at once. It was very tart, like biting into a lemon. A thousand years ago, she had known a girl who loved lemon cakes. No, that was not me, that was only Arya.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

Now, I can guess what some of you are going to say. She made a choice. Its all a training montage. She can leave at any time.

But honestly, can she leave? Leave and go where exactly? Where in this foreign country can this child go? Home? To the country that is basically on fire and to her knowledge her family has been destroyed? Where would she go? And would they even let her at this point? Like as Cat maybe. Now? She’s seen and done a lot. I doubt the Faceless Men would allow that walking talking liability.

There is also the little fact of her being 11, 12 at the most. She is a literal child who has no where to go and no one to go to and the only people who aren’t dead or sailed off or in a different country have been the Murder Cult.

Martin just does a great job of having the reader kind of figure things out as Arya does. You get that sense of security. The knowledge that there are few options open except for this. The difference is that because we aren’t Arya we can catch on a bit quicker that things aren’t on the up and up here, that a child shouldn’t be here (I mean they tell her that, but they still let her stay), and that this probably wont end well.

#Arya Stark #House of Black and White #anti the House of Black and White #anti hobaw #A Song of Ice and Fire #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls

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wakatvshi · 3 years

Text

run | bertholdt hoover x reader pt. 1

warnings: death, gore (normal for aot)

word count: 1520

gif credit: kumashu

authors note: this is the first of probably 3 parts of this series! you can also find it on wattpad and ao3! let me know if you enjoy!

summary: after the truth about the colossal and armored titan comes out you have to make a choice. is your heart with the scouts or with bertholdt?

READ PART TWO HERE || READ PART THREE HERE.

It was the screams of the titans around you that woke you up. As soon as you opened your eyes you grabbed your head, the light from the sun sending a wave of pain through you.. You had to get out of here, you had to find the other scouts, you had to find someone. Getting out of the open was the only way for you to survive, if you were out here for too long a titan would notice you. You knew that. Forcing yourself up off your back the first thing you noticed was the blood. You were caked in it, it stuck to your hands and your pants and it wasn’t hard to figure out it was human blood.

Wide eyes finally looked around you and you started shaking. The bodies of the squad you’d been with were around you. Some of them were missing body parts, others had been crushed. A cry escaped you as you looked over at the half eaten body of a garrison soldier. She’d been the one to pull you onto her horse, she’d been the one who said she was going to head back to the wall with you. Then what happened? After that it went blank.

Once again shock went through you as you remembered. Bertholdt and Reiner. Titans, the titans who’d destroyed the wall. They transformed in front of you as you stood there and did nothing. Eren was captured, Ymir was captured and you did nothing. All you could do was stare into those green eyes wondering why. Why he’d lied to you. Why he’d done it. Why he’d never told you. You’d loved him; he’d said he loved you but he let you believe a lie. Or was it a lie? The way he cried and yelled at you all, asking someone to find him, saying he didn’t want to be this. But after that? After that what? You were laying among dead bodies, covered in blood and all you could remember was the look in Bertholdt’s eyes.

Another yell from a titan shook you from those memories. Across the field was a group of titans, all of them around… the armored titan. That was it. Commander Erwin charged in with a horde of titans to stop Reiner. The Garrison woman who’d picked you up was hit and then it went dark. Dark because you’d been on the same horse as her and when she was downed so we’re you. That had to be why no one else was here. They had to think you were dead. They wouldn’t have left you. Right? Panic filled you again as you stood up, maybe they didn’t care if you were dead. If they thought you were working with Bertholdt they might have wanted you dead.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you doubled over emptying the contents of your stomach. The smell of blood, the pain in your head and the idea that… no one cared if you were alive coming at you all at once. A sob tore through you as you fell to your knees, you didn’t want to die like this. Betrayed and abandoned, the scouts were supposed to finally be your family. Bertholdt was supposed to save you from this, he’d promised you that he would. You believed him, he was so nice and so good that when you told him things, even though he didn’t always say much back you thought you knew him.

The sad ways he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking, but you always were. Since the first day you were looking at him. He was so quiet and shy but you were determined. Maybe he was trying not to get too close to people, knowing what he’d done, what he was. But you pushed, you just had to push. You never left things alone, you were desperate for that feeling he gave you and now you were out here left for the titans. Maybe it was some kind of justice, justice that burned you as you stared at your blood covered hands against the ground under you.

Another roar. This time from the Armored Titan, it was pushing against the others. Trying to get away from them. Bertholdt was there. The fear that you felt wasn’t for you, it was for him. Even knowing what he was, what he’d done your heart still betrayed you. Your body shook as you stopped yourself from trying to go forward. What could you even do? Run in there and die for someone who you weren’t even sure ever actually cared about you?

That wasn’t true though, it couldn’t be true. Bertholdt… he’d said he wanted to go back to his home, wanted you to see his home. Whatever home that was, the one they wanted to take Eren to. It was the reason Bertholdt and Reiner joined the military they’d said, to take their home back. You could remember exactly when he’d told you he wanted you to go home with him.

The two of you had been sitting outside after dinner, the sun was going down and you were just sitting there with him, talking about something you’d done wrong with the ODM gear. You were angry about it, you were a full scout now and you couldn’t make those mistakes. If it had happened when the female titan attacked you’d have been killed. You’d said that, mentioned Annie, and then he said it. When he told you that he wished you could come home with him. You’d assumed he meant after taking back Wall Maria which was the goal of the scouts but now you knew that wasn’t the case.

His home was somewhere else, somewhere with other people. That meant that there was life outside the walls. It didn’t seem possible, it wasn’t supposed to be possible but you’d watched the love of your life turn into the colossal titan right in front of you. Nothing made sense anymore, accepting that was the only thing you could do right now. Everyone thought they knew what the world was, it wasn’t that easy. It went from people being able to be titans, titans in the walls and now there was a whole world out there that you didn’t even know existed.

Your hands shook at your sides as you watched the armored titan and Ymir’s titans pushed through the others. Did that mean Christa was with them? That was the only way Ymir would go with them, but you didn’t think they’d ever abandon Christa, not even to Ymir. Reiner and Ymir were titans but Bertholdt… he was human, you could still see the hand over Reiner’s neck where he was protecting Bertholdt, trying to keep the titans from attacking him. Clenching your jaw you watched the two of them fight to get away. You should run, you couldn’t do anything to help and you didn’t know what they’d do if you did try to help them. Maybe you were the enemy to them as well.

Stepping backwards you winced as you bumped against one of the bodies and another weak cry left you. You couldn’t look down, you didn’t want to see any faces you knew. All you’d known was losing people you joined the scouts to help stop that. You didn’t want anyone else to have to feel the same pain you did. It was a mistake. Joining the scouts did nothing but lose you everything now. Even Bertholdt. If you’d joined the Garrison you wouldn’t even know. They could tell you some story about him being dead and you’d hate it but you’d be okay. Being a scout put you right next to his betrayal. It put you right in front of it as Mikasa slashed his throat and he stared at you.

Tearing your eyes away from the battling titans in front of you, you looked up at the trees above you. That was your escape, if you could get in the trees you could figure out where to go. Right now the titans were all focused on Reiner and Ymir, they didn’t notice anything else. Tapping the tanks on your ODM gear you swore under your breath when you realized one of the tanks was almost empty. That left only one option.

Letting out a shaking breath you quickly tossed the almost empty tanks onto the grass before you had to truly look at the scene in front of you. One of the bodies would have at least one full tank. You just had to find out which ones. Falling to your knees in front of one of them you ignored the stench of blood getting stronger when you took their ODM gear. “Fuck.” The gear was too damaged to use it. Steadying your hands you had to go through three different corpses before you could find two tanks that actually had gas in them. Ignoring the way the canisters slid against your hands from the blood you double-checked the rest of your gear before you shot up into one of the trees.

#bertholdt hoover #bertholdt x reader #bertolt x reader #bertolt hoover #aot imagine #aot imagines #aot x reader #my writing #mine #run #my fics

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brokenangelwings22 · 3 years

Text

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

#ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime

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smallblip · 3 years

Note

oh oh! i was wondering where Levi would be so good at braiding Hange's so normally they ask the same question and Levi goes silent because he remembers the times he used to style Isabel's hair and Hange realises and omg im sad af now :((((

Oh god this made me sad... Here you go lovely:

three strands for good luck

Since the first time Hanji had introduced themselves, they make it a habit to talk his ear off whenever they see him, much to Levi's dismay. Sometimes it's about something menial like the weather, sometimes it's about their observations on the Abnormal Titans. Sometimes it's little anecdotes about the others- about Erwin and his habit of talking in his sleep, about Mike retching the first time he had met them and him apologising profusely after. And Levi wonders why, because he has never given them any indication that he’s a willing participant in any of this? He gives them nothing beyond non-committal grunts and occasional nods. And yet, Hanji is unbothered when he sighs, or clicks his tongue, or asks them if they ever shut up. They respond, in kind, with more ridiculous laughter.

But they’re quiet the day Isabel and Farlan die. Levi barely makes it back to his room. He's still clutching their bloodied patches. His hands are shaking, and he can't remember the last time he's felt this much pain. Or this much guilt. They had been his responsibility. They would have followed him to the ends of the earth. And they did. He doesn't even hear the knock on his door. It creaks open and he's looking up now. Hanji is toeing into his room, only really setting their feet on the ground when they realise that Levi's boots had already left stains on the wood.

"Hey..." they say, so soft it barely travels. "I'm sorry for what happened to Isabel and Farlan..." Hanji is kneeling now. Levi's eyes scan theirs and something in him shifts. Whatever that had been coursing in his veins on overdrive during the fight, during the moments when he had found Isabel's mangled body, recedes. He sees how tired Hanji is, spent from battle, their legs barely holding them upright. He sees the bandage on Hanji’s arm that’s seeping blood, and he sees the goggles that are perched on their head, with the lenses smashed through. They look so, so tired.

“If you want to talk to someone... You know... About them... I'm on the second floor... The room right at the end... I knew them too... Not as well as you did of course... But-"

"Thank you," Levi replies. And he had meant it. Hanji nods and turns to look at him one last time before m closing the door.

Hanji doesn't say anything to him for the next few days. But they check on him to make sure his head is above water. Because Hanji knows their occupation is unforgiving. There's little to no time to grieve before there's someone else to mourn, someone else to bury, someone else to miss. Someone else to talk about in a way that falls somewhere between purpose and martyrdom.

But no one really speaks of Isabel and Farlan. Hanji notices. And already, so much is expected of Levi. He comes to them a week later, during a lull. Time for broken bones to heal and scars to form. He comes to them at night and they hear the short rasps on their door.

"Hey!” Hanji says, eyes widening in surprise, they can’t contain the smile that spreads across their face, "come in!" They clear the pile of unfolded laundry off their chair, tossing them into the cupboard, frantically making space for their guest. Hanji gestures for him to sit, and they take a seat on the edge of their bed.

“How’s your arm?” He asks, and Hanji rolls up their sleeve to show him the scab, raw at the sides from picking. “Healing well!” Hanji runs a finger over it to prove a point. Levi pulls a face, “would’ve healed better if you didn’t pick at it...” Hanji chuckles. It can’t be helped.

Levi gives them a once over. Granted it’s late, and it’s almost time for bed, but Hanji is disheveled as always. Their hair tie clinging onto their head for dear life, ratty shirt slipping off their shoulder. Levi thinks about what his mother had said. Even though they had nothing, she had always stressed the importance of looking presentable. And now looking at Hanji, on the verge of a promotion to squad leader, Levi wonders how they have come this far with a pair of boots (worn and unpolished), and gear caked in mud and grime.

Levi sighs, “come here...” he says, and he guides Hanji to sit in front of him, cross-legged. They feel like a child again, when they’re forced by their mother to sit in front of the mirror while she brushes the knots out of their hair. “You’re a mess Hanji,” their mother had said. She says the same thing again when Hanji goes back to visit, shirt unironed and tucked carelessly into their trousers. Hanji stills when they feel Levi part their hair into three strands, starting from the top of their head.

“You’re braiding my hair?” Hanji asks, smile spreading across their face, amused.

“Just stay still.” Came the answer, and Levi works with deft fingers, tugging firmly to keep the braid in place.

“Where did you learn?”

“My mother... Used to watch her do it.”

“She must have been really beautiful...” Hanji muses, pulling their knees to their chest.

It’s quiet, but it’s the most comfortable silence Hanji has had with Levi. So they close their eyes to the feeling of his fingers threading through their hair.

• • •

Hanji does nothing to their braid the next morning, or the morning after, and the ones after that.

And predictably, there are strands of hair sticking out where they shouldn't. Levi pulls them aside when they are sneaking sugar cubes to their horse, or when they are securing the harness flush against their frame, or in the corridor on the way to the mess. He fixes their hair wordlessly.

• • •

The cadets notice that there's duality in the way squad leader Hanji appears. There's Hanji, completely on-brand, characteristic mess of brown hair held together with a hair tie, slipping down to frame their face, shirt wrinkled, gear battle-worn, and boots unpolished. And there's the other Hanji- shirt crisp and starched, gear well-maintained, boots polished to mirror-shine-

Hair held up in a braid.

"It's not possible that squad leader Hanji did that by themselves..." Jean had mused.

But beyond pure observation, the cadets fail to establish a pattern. They try to predict the weather or the intensity of their training on any particular day by the way Hanji looks. But the other veterans know there's an easier answer than one linked to an oracle.

• • •

Hanji hums a tune when Levi works on their hair, bits and pieces of old melodies they remember from their childhood, or tunes they hear Mike whistling. They had knocked on Levi's door that night, thinking maybe there's a pattern to be found, a routine to be established after the first time.

And sure as the seasons and the ones that come after, Levi pulls Hanji to sit. He parts Hanji’s hair into three strands. Three strands for good luck, he hears it in his mother's voice, gentle like the wind.

“I did this for Isabel too...” He says, matter-of-fact, but Hanji recognises the hurt in his voice. The guilt has faded to a dull throb- a testimony to time passed, to wounds healed and scars formed.

“So that’s why she always looked so adorable...” Hanji replies, gentle like the wind, and Levi smiles, patting the top of Hanji’s head, “done.”

Hanji takes a look in the mirror at their choppy hair held neatly in a French braid. Hanji beams, grin spreading across their face.

“Tell you what... Let’s go for a walk, Levi, I’ve got something to show you.” They walk a disused path that leads from the bunks to nowhere. Hanji explains that the toilets used to be out here, long before their time as a cadet.

They stop along the path when Hanji points up at a tree. “It’s Spring now so they’re in bloom...” Levi looks at the flowers on the trees, pink folds opening up to the sky. It’s dark and it’s difficult to see, but Hanji places a flower in his hand.

“They’re Magnolias...” Hanji smiles, “like Isabel...”

Levi traces a finger along the petals. Time stills in this moment.

“It’s strange though, this tree has always had white blooms, and now they’re pink!”

“It’s Isabel’s favourite colour.”

“Ah... That’s why...”

They sit under the magnolia tree, where the grass is gathering dew, but it doesn’t really matter. The air is crisp and it smells like life itself. Levi places the flower on Hanji’s lap. Hanji picks it up and tucks it behind Levi’s ear. He glowers at them but it didn’t have the intended effect, because Hanji is laughing.

Well. Maybe it did.

They watch as a Magnolia drifts from the trees, a blush of pink against the night. It lands on Hanji’s lap. “Oh! Aren’t you beautiful...” Hanji says.

Levi reaches over and tucks the flower in their braid.

#levihan #wrote a drabble because I have no self control #anon #levihan soft hours #Levi x Hanji #Levi x hange #Levi #hange Zoë #levihan fanfiction #levihan fanfic #mine #inbox #THANK YOU ANON!#Drabble

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years

Text

Attack on Titan Headcanons - Drinks

This isn’t even a ‘x reader’. I’m shamelessly projecting my own character headcanons into skits now. Sorry. Edit: Actually I’m not sorry, this is hilarious. - Nemo

Masterlist

Armin Arlert

Water, like a good healthy, growing (?) boy should!

Is he still growing?? I can’t tell anymore T-T

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Mikasa Ackerman

Idk, I can see her getting super pumped up on energy drinks.

Those pink monster ones are her favorite.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Eren Jaeger

Blood, sweat, and tears. All his own. Cause he is that dramatic, and he is that petty.

Jk - he actually drinks MILK because he’s a huge-ass BABY STILL-

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Jean Kirstein

O c e a n w a t e r

That’s it. That’s the tweet. You know why.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Historia Reiss

~ The same thing that angels drink ~ Duh.

How else would she be able to put up with all the stuff going on in her life and still look that pretty??

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Reiner Braun

He’s a beer guy. Peridot.

Yes, this is based purely on looks BUT if you told me his personality didn’t match too then you’re blind AND deaf

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Bertholdt Hoover

If you subtract the fact he’s killed a couple hundred people then you’ll know he’s actually pretty chill, but, bear with me for a sec-

He’s a juice box guy. An Apple Juice Box Guy.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Annie Leonhart

Another water person. She doesn’t need it to grow though.

She just likes the taste. Imagine liking the taste of water??? how would you even describe that?? You can’t get a ‘water’ flavoured cake, like Annie, come on

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Hange Zoe

If smoothies counted, then it’d be smoothies.

Any smoothie that comes out yellow are the favourites, mango, banana, pineapple, literally anything yellow. ‘Piss’ - Levi

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Erwin Smith

He’s a hard liquor guy. Homeboy needs it too, gotta keep up with the kids and all their bull sh-

He says he’s a whiskey guy, but vodka can really get him going if you make him drink enough.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Levi Ackerman

If you see him drinking anything other than straight water or black tea (no sugar) then something isn’t right.

I don’t think he can even palate anything else anymore tbh he’s too used to the leaf juice.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Mike Zacharias

WINE MOM OVER HERE!!! He’s so funny!!!!!!

He knows a good wine when he sees smells one, and he is able to hunt down a vintage wine in a village-sized cellar, do not doubt it

#armin arlert headcanons #mikasa ackerman headcanon #eren jaeger headcanons #jean kirstein headcanons #historia reiss headcanons #reiner braun headcanons #bertholdt hoover headcanons #annie leonhart headcanons #hange zoe headcanons #erwin smith headcanons #levi ackerman headcanons #mike zacharias headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons

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tams-writeblr · 3 years

Text

Once I’m gone

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: major character death

Category: F/M (main couple), Multi (side characters)

Fandom: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Relationship: Mikasa Ackermann / Eren Jaeger | various side couples

Characters: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackermann, Armin Arlelt, Zeke Jaeger, Hange Zoe, Floch Forster, Ymir, Reiner Braun, Pieck Finger, Historia Reiss, several others will make a cameo

Additional Tags: Modern AU | established relationship | toxic behaviour | Eren suffers from Huntington’s disease and tries to settle his matters before he dies | suicial blockhead Eren | aged up characters (by ten years) | suicide tw | depression tw | mental diseases tw | deathly diseases tw | this is clearly not write what you know, but I’m giving my very best to representate the topics as good as I can | this all basically came to me as a fever dream | you remember Thirteen from House, M.D.? I still have a huge crush on her so this version of Eren is greatly inspired by her <3

Language: English (not native, I’m trying my best you guys)

Stats: ongoing - Chapter 1/15 - Part 2/4 - 1507 of 3652 words

Summary: Eren Jaeger knew for years that he inherited Huntington’s disease from his late mother. When he first notices symptoms on him, his long protected plan, to end his life before reaching the critical state of his illness, awakes. But there is still Mikasa, his girlfriend and the only person in the world he cares about more than about himself, and he can’t leave her alone and grieving. It’s time to find a substitute for when Eren is gone. With the help of a new friend Eren tries to scare away Mikasa while driving her into the arms of someone new.

__________________________________________________

Charlatans and Pills - Part 2/4

<<previous

“Hey Mama”, the small, dark haired boy said and pulled his hand towards the woman that sat sunk down on an uncomfortable looking chair.

She didn’t directly look at him, only giving his pulled out hand a small, arbitrary glance and looked up towards the man, standing behind Eren.

“But Carla, Dear”, Eren's father said with a cheerful tone. “Shake at least our Eren’s hand. Aren’t you happy that we are visiting you?”

A thin lipped smile crawled over Carla’s face and her light brown eyes finally found Eren’s glance. “Eren”, she sighed recognizing and rather than just taking his hand, she slipped down her chair and tightly hugged him.

Tighter than Eren would have liked it. He looked up to his father, seeking help, insecure how to behave. She still was his mother, the one that always loved him and guessed every wish from his eyes.

Eren had found out that she was sick, three years ago. Back then they also told him, he eventually would get the same sickness. She often dropped things and so she did on his eleventh birthday with a knife to cut his cake. It fell right on her foot and she had to go to the hospital. After this incident, she never returned to her old self. She behaved strangely ever so often, screaming at his dad for obviously no reason.

But the strangest was when Eren came home from school one day. His father was still at work, he had a small practice in the middle of town, and usually a delicious lunch was waiting for him when he returned home from school. But on this day nothing smelled nice through the house, on the contrary it stank horribly of burned food and everything was full with smoke. Eren found his mother in the upstairs bathroom, her hands were dripping with blood, he had found shards in the kitchen.

“What do you want?”, his mother screamed and held her blood stained hands in front of her face. “Get out! I have to hide from the smoke!”

Puzzled Eren neared his mother. “But Mama, you have to turn off the oven or else whatever's on there will burn even more. Did you cut yourself? Do you need a bandaid?”

“Get our!”, Carla yelled again. “Who the hell are you, how did you get into my house?”

Helpless tears wobbled out of big, green child’s eyes. “Mama”, he whined and ducked away under a roll of toilet paper his mother threw at him. Desperately the boy backed out of the bathroom and ran back to the kitchen where he pulled all knobs of the oven until the red control light went off, then he remembered what his father always had hammered inside his little head: to call him at work, when something was wrong with Mum.

“The number is pinned on the fridge”, he had told him again and again. “I’ll be with you within 15 minutes.” If not at this moment, when should he bother his father at work? Quickly the boy looked for the phone around the smoke filled house, luckily he found it in the living room and not like so often in his parents bedroom. He wouldn’t have dared to walk past the upper bathroom in which he still suspected his mother.

His father indeed arrived within minutes. He found Carla beneath the toilet, sunk down and asleep and immediately called an ambulance. “I’m so sorry”, he murmured again and again while pressing the sobbing and crying Eren against him. “You’ll never have to be alone with her again. Everything will be alright.”

His mother didn’t return home after this incident. His father explained to him that she would now live somewhere, where people could look after her more appropriately. There no knife would fall on her food ever again and she wouldn’t burn any more pans.

But Eren found the place where they brought her simply terrifying. There were only old people. Not old people like his father but really old, probably older than his grandparents. It always smelled strangely and scary sounds came from some chambers.

Eren curled out of his mother’s embrace and his father came to help him.

“There, there Carla, not so fiercely”, he laughed and directed her gently back towards her chair. Then he took place across from her and placed a hand on her knee. “Well my Dear, how are you feeling today?”

Carla looked at him for a long time with a stoic face. At that her left arm twitched permanently. It hit against her thigh and the seating of the chair.

Eren watched the movement hypnotized and flinched when his mother took a deep, loud breath.

“Grisha”, she said with unmistakable joy in her voice. her twitching arm raised and her hand landed accurately on her husband’s. A smile crept towards her lips. “My Dear…” Suddenly she was once again his mother, the pretty woman with light brown eyes and dark hair, sun kissed skin and the most beautiful smile in the world.

Eren felt lighter than before and placed his small child’s hand above his mother’s. She only looked at him briefly, out of the corner of her eyes, before taxing Grisha again. The three of them stayed like this for a while in total silence. Only a far away, old and male voice asked when it was finally time for dinner.

The clearing of a throat crushed the family idly and Eren and his mother heavily flinched.

Carla’s head shot high to look at the creator of the noice’s face. Her own one suddenly started to twitch wildly.

“Mr. Jäger, can I please talk to you for a moment?”, a man in a white coat said. From his father Eren knew that doctors dressed like that.

Grisha got up and agreed with a dark look on his face. “Eren, sit down for so long. I’ll be right back.”

“You are a doctor?”, Eren heard the other man ask when he walked away with his father. The latter didn’t answer, maybe he had only nodded. “Then you must know about the condition your wife is in.”

Eren couldn’t hear more from the conversation. But from the look on his mother’s face, he could tell that her glance followed them.

He didn’t want to turn out like her. What was that for a life? Eren still couldn’t quite understand what was wrong with his mother, but he knew she always forgot things, sometimes even him or his father and that she always flapped around her arms. He didn’t want that, especially not the thing with forgetting. Carefully he took her hand between both of his. “I’m not gonna forget you, Mama”, he said tenderly and patted her hand that was gaunt and wiry. “I promise.”

Carla looked at her boy dumbfounded before pulling her eyebrows into a painful grimace. “Oh Eren, my little baby,” she cried and thick tears wobbled out of her eyes. Fragile and smaller as he remembered her she sat on that horribly uncomfortable chair, her hand between the small palms of her son.

Scared by her sudden burst of emotion Eren pulled his hands away. Two faces, so similar to each other that everyone would see their connection, looked at each other with a mixture of horror and hurt.

When his father returned, Eren asked him to leave.

“Come back soon!”, he heard his mother say softly when Grisha leaned down to her and kissed her.

He promised they would, of course he did. And of course they kept their promise. Eren couldn’t say how many hours of his youth he had spent in that foster home that cared for his mother. The doctors and nurses there did a wonderful job, they deeply cared for his mother, who visibly crumpled infront of her small family’s eyes. She got thinner and thinner and ever more erratic. Until she neither recognized Grisha nor Eren. Sometimes she remembered to have a son called Eren but in her memory he was still a ten-years-old that had broken his arm while wrestling with his friends. That the handsome young man infront of her was her small Eren, she wouldn’t get the idea despite their striking resemblance.

Finally her spasticies became so bad that it became too dangerous to let her eat solid food and she got a feeding tube. From this moment on, things went continuously down hill for Carla Jäger, whose husband was a doctor himself who slowly broke down by looking at her.

Almost exactly ten years after moving to the foster home and a little over 13 years after her diagnosis Carla died on a stormy fall evening. She hadn’t seen her son in four month, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

But losing his mother had broken something deep inside of Eren. Now a full grown man, he knew which fate his mother had handed down to him. But he also knew back than, how he would be reacting towards it, when his time came.

>>next

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Author’s Note: Hey, thank you for coming back to me! I hope you don’t mind when long flashbacks like this are all in Italics, I know they can be hard to read. Just for Context: Carla was 30 when she had Eren in this story and she dies at 51. Can’t have a main character without a tragic family backstory, can we? See you for the next part!

#attack on titan fanfiction #aot ff #eremika #eren jaeger #carla jaeger #grisha jaeger #once i'm gone #once i'm gone chap 1 #once i'm gone chap 1 part 2 #eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman #grisha jaeger x carla jaeger #writers on tumblr #fanfiction on tumblr #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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stefciastark · 3 years

Text

Peter Snaps ~ Webpril Day 14

A/N: WARNING! Major Character Death.

After five long years without Peter, Tony finally gets the kid back, but the universe can have such a sick sense of humour.

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

Tony looked up from where he lay prone on the dirt and stone beneath him. Moving his limbs took a monumental effort, and he didn't know how much longer he could go toe to toe against Thanos. The suit had begun to reflect light strangely, various scrapes and indentations distorting its silhouette. The helmet no longer covered his head, too damaged beyond repair to do its job anymore.

Peter was nothing more than a distant dark blur in the distance, weaving in between the multitudes of Thanos’ army. He was progressively moving closer, Stark-made Infinity Gauntlet in hand, and Tony wanted to cry out to him not to come any closer, to turn around and run as far and fast as his legs could take him. This was no place for a kid.

The sounds of distant gunfire and battle cries echoed in the distance but rapidly faded into nothing more than muffled noise. Five long years. Tony didn’t care if it made him look like an overprotective helicopter parent, but there was no way in hell he’d be letting Peter out of his sight ever again.

Peter’s breaths came in harsh exhales rhythmically each time his left foot hit the ground. Curled against his chest was the Gauntlet, half the size of his torso and awkward to carry. He was almost out of webs which was just as well; out in the open terrain, the only opportunities he had to swing were few and far between.

He saw Valkyrie soaring overhead on her - and Peter couldn’t believe he’d be able to say this, Ned wouldn’t believe it - winged horse, spear in hand. Peter saw her target: a nearby Leviathan he could smell from where he was, almost 2000-feet away.

Watching the spectacular display of warriorship, he grinned for a moment at the magnificence of it all. The spirit of the moment faded quickly however as just past where Valkyrie flew, he saw Tony’s form hunched over, one hand stabilising his weight on a nearby rocky outcrop. The distance between him and the large hulking figure of Thanos was rapidly closing, and Peter knew that there was only one way things would pan out… But, he thought, his legs hitting the ground increasing in speed, when you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.

The Titan strode towards Tony, hungering for the job to be finished - for Iron Man to be nothing more than powder and dust beneath his feet. His steps were almost lazy and dripping with sadistic intention.

Tony had barely recovered to a standing position when Thanos placed his boot atop his chest and pushed, the combination of Thanos’ sheer mass and strength sending him crashing to the ground once more. The air was knocked out of his lungs on impact, and it was only with deep measured breaths that he was able to draw in the oxygen his body was starving for.

“I’m going to enjoy this...very, very much.” Thanos loomed over him, tossing his double-edged sword to the side. He wanted to finish it with his own hands. Tony’s struggles were fruitless, blasts from the repulsors glancing off of the Titan’s armour, the suit and its wearer spent.

Thanos bent down briefly shifting his foot’s position on Tony’s chest, his right hand in an open cylindrical grasp aiming for the space surrounding Tony’s neck.

Feeling the pressure lift momentarily, Tony took in a shuddering breath before the pressure resumed in force, in that moment just hoping that when the end came that it would somehow be quick.

“Hey, you dropped something!”

No.

The side of Thanos’ double-edged blade - now covered in webs - greeted his face as he turned to locate the voice’s source. A thin stream of purple trickled down his temple, and lips curled inwards and nostrils flared in fury, Thanos turned to face Peter, dropping Tony from where he had held him feet above the ground.

Tony’s promise to himself to protect Peter was ultimately short-lived. For the life of him he couldn’t move. It turned out the universe had a sick sense of humour, and Tony had hoped he - and Peter for that matter - wouldn’t be the butt of the joke this time. His kid’s silhouette was dwarfed by the Titan, the Gauntlet no longer cradled against his chest but stuck in a tug of war that Peter couldn’t win.

Suddenly going slack and removing all of his resistance, Peter watched as the Gauntlet went flying to his left, tumbling down a small hill before laying still on its side, Infinity Stones twinkling faintly. Peter knew he wasn’t stronger than Thanos, but he sure as hell was faster.

He dove towards the Stones, feeling rough gravel scrape along his knees and arms. He quickly grasped it in his left hand, holding it above his right, watching as the device began to shift and change to match the size of its wearer.

Peter didn’t care if he made it out alive or not. That moment was larger than him. It was larger than Tony. It was larger than all of them.

The second the gauntlet closed around Peter’s hand he felt a pain that was like nothing else he had ever experienced in his life. Veins of light pulsed up his arm and into his jaw, and it was all he could see and feel. In one agonising combination, it felt like flames were progressively licking their way up and down his body and stretching its tendrils towards his chest, viciously incorporating the feeling of putting his body in a pool of water filled with ice. Starting from the tips of his fingers, everything burned and then went numb.

Locking eyes with Tony from across their small arena, Peter saw Tony’s eyes widening in abject horror, realising what he was about to do.

Mouthing ‘thank you’, Peter smiled faintly and snapped.

-----------------------------

The brightness blinded Tony as everything was bathed in a shower of white. Around him, Thanos’ forces crumbled, soon nothing more than dust in the wind. The desperate dictator was the last to fade.

Everything was quiet, except for the faint metallic clang of the Gauntlet hitting the dirt, and the scraping sound of fabric sliding down stone.

Adrenaline powered Tony to his feet as he put two and two together, and stumbled towards where the crumpled form of Peter sat, back against stone.

Peter looked small and fragile, so far from the larger-than-life kid from Queens. His eyes, usually so full of life, were unfocused, but as they found Tony’s, a faint twinkle of life returned to them. “Hey Mr Stark...did I do it?” It was barely a whisper.

“Hey kiddo...yeah, you did it.” Tony fell to his knees in front of Peter’s frail form, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, corners of his mouth turning upwards in a sad smile.

The smile quickly faded as Peter’s head began to loll gently to the side, eyes losing their focus once more. Tony got a proper look at the price Peter paid. The right side of Peter’s face was covered in burns, the skin charred and caked in a mixture of dried and fresh blood. Eyes trailing down, the damage extended down the whole right half of Peter’s body.

Peter felt numb, everything around him existing in a faraway dreamlike state. He couldn’t feel much of anything except for the warmth on his shoulder where Tony’s hand still remained. His head was heavy, and he couldn’t quite get his lips to move. He felt a vague prickle of frustration in the back of his mind. Why couldn’t he move his lips? He had so much he wanted to say to Tony...

“Pete, don’t you go to sleep on me. You’re okay, just hold on for a bit, we’ll get you out of here, alright?” Tony’s hand shook on Peter’s shoulder but got no response. Tony knew the kid wasn’t going to make it. He felt rather than saw Pepper, Steve, and Rhodey land behind him.

Peter felt his field of vision going gray, the colours and light of life slowly fading from his surroundings. He was able to have one last good look at the man he now called his father as he was pulled in against Tony’s body.

“You’re okay, you’re okay…” Tony’s whispered reassurances were more for himself, trying and failing to convince himself that none of it was real. Peter would be taken to medical by Quinjet, and within a week he would be bounding with that endless energy Tony had come to love. Tony would make him a prosthetic if he needed one. Everything would be fine. Everything would work out exactly the way it was supposed to.

Cradling the boy’s head to his chest, Tony felt Peter’s last exhale before he went still.

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 4 years

Text

whumptober day 5: rescue

Titans time!

summary: kory rescues dick from captivity, but he has a final trick up his sleeve.

warnings: set vaguely at some point after s2 ends. some s2 spoilers. pretty harmless, really.

rescue

Dick’s been missing for five days when Kory finds him slumped and bleeding in the basement of a derelict Gotham hotel. The place smells dank and mouldy, and it’s cold enough that Kory’s shivering, her powers mostly spent. She’s been on Earth for long enough now that she anticipates depravity instead of being startled by it, but Gotham is… special. Beyond. There’s a pall over it that stifles her powers before she’s even had a chance to use them, and it only gets worse the deeper she goes into the city, into all the places even Gotham thought was unsalvageable. It’s frightening to think that this is the city after it obtained an entire family of vigilantes dedicated to saving it.

(maybe their kind of saving isn’t what Gotham needs, after all--)

She glows faintly, illuminating just enough of the place to see Dick chained to a corner by his arms. He’s on his knees, slumped to one side, blood caking one side of his face, but his costume appears otherwise intact, and he is breathing steadily. Rats scurry into dark corners as she approaches him.

“Good timing,” Dick says, as she gets close. “I was just about ready to get out of here.”

He’s grinning, teeth startlingly white against the grime and blood on his face. He looks utterly relaxed in a way that Kory has never seen him in Titans Tower or, well, anywhere else; for all that Dick professes to despise Gotham, there’s no denying he’s in his element here. Even if that means being captured, beaten up and left for dead.

Kory makes a show of rolling her eyes as she swiftly snaps the chains with her bare hands. It worries her that he isn’t immediately leaping to his feet or even trying to move much at all; now that she’s close, she can hear a faint wheeze tailing every breath. “It doesn’t look like you are,” she mutters.

Dick’s grin fades. “Just a broken ankle,” he says with practiced nonchalance. “Kind of pedestrian when it comes to torture, really. Are Rach and the others okay?”

“Dealing with the rest of the cult outside so that I could get in here.” Kory slips a hand under his shoulder and slowly hefts him to his feet. Dick hisses, swaying, but swiftly transfers weight to his uninjured leg, leaning against Kory for support.

“Gar’s still got a cold, you think he should be out there fighting?”

Kory begins to make her way to the door in small, slow steps, allowing Dick to figure out a gait that meant the least discomfort. “He recovered from it last week, Dick,” she says, when Dick has stopped gasping in pain. “You’ve… you’ve been gone a while.”

Dick falls silent for a long moment as they make their painstaking way to the door. Then: “I haven’t missed his birthday, have I?”

“No, but I think he’s already found out about the game console you’ve hidden in your room.”

“Ah,” Dick says, smiling, “I meant for him to find that. It’s cover for his real present.”

“If it’s the collection of autographed basketballs then he’s found that, too.”

Dick shoots her a sidelong glance. “That’s not… meant for him--”

“Whoops.” Kory laughs and kicks the door to the basement open. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”

The lobby is already swarming with men by the time they get there. Kory fights off as many of them as she can and Dick tries his best to help, but with her own powers at a low ebb and Dick… incapacitated, they’re clearly not going to get out the front door.

“Roof,” Dick gasps.

Kory swiftly gathers him in her arms without another word--ignoring just how light he is and the heat radiating off exposed skin--and sprints up the stairs. The rotting staircase rumbles and creaks with the footfalls of the men chasing them, but Kory just pours on speed, acknowledging but putting aside the way Dick bounces in her arms, his laboured breathing, his bitten-off screams when his ankle is inadvertently jostled. When she finally bursts onto the roof, panting, he looks ready to pass out.

He’s still grinning.

“Okay, Grayson,” Kory pants. “What’s your big plan?”

One of the ugly stone gargoyles on either side of the roof shifts, tilting its neck and spreading its enormous wings against the murky night sky. It crouches, as if waiting to be mounted.

“Rachel,” Kory whispers. She looks sharply at Dick. “Was this your idea?”

Dick shrugs. “Been a dream ever since I became Robin.”

Behind them, the roof access bursts open again, their enemies pouring in. “When I get my flight back,” Kory says, placing Dick in front of her on the gargoyle’s back and climbing on after him, “you’re going to regret that you ever made me do this.”

Dick pulls her arms around his waist. “Hold on tight!”

His laughter echoes in her ears as the gargoyle lurches off the roof and towards safety.

#i....... dk #i just really wanted to write that last bit #titans #dick grayson #koriand'r #my fic #whumptober2020 #no.5 #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle

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wearevillaneve · 4 years

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Killing Eve’s New Blood (or “Hi, My Name Is...”)

Typically, you can expect the new season of a TV show to say “Nice to meet ya” to new characters as it says “Smell ya later” to old familiars. Still, the influx of so many newbies to the cast of Killing Eve looks like the survivors of the Titanic scrambling to climb in the last remaining lifeboat.

Who ARE all these gals and guys?

Roll call: There’s Geraldine, Paul, Jaime, Bear, Dasha, Audrey, Mo, and Helene. That’s eight, plus all the six new faces Villanelle met in Russia, though only maybe two of them survived her visit. Did I forget anyone? All of these newbies come with a smidgen of a backstory, but really we mostly have more questions about all these warm bodies than solid answers.

Is Paul just some touchy-feely asshole who is trying to exploit Carolyn’s distraction with Kenny’s untimely demise, to raise his own standing in MI6? Is someone at The Bitter Pill may not be whom they are presenting themselves as (Audrey!) and they may be a sleeper agent for The Twelve (Audrey!) who was spying on Kenny’s investigation and was instructed to take him out (I see you, Audrey!)

She hasn’t been given much to do or say, but Geraldine is an enigma. All we know of her is she’s Kenny’s big sister from the same mister, has never been mentioned before and is a major annoyance to Carolyn, who has little tolerance and less affection for her flesh and blood.

Carolyn has proven herself to be more than willing to callously throw anyone to the wolves if that’s what it takes to get the job done, but there’s something slightly off in her “relationship” with Geraldine. One woman seems overly needy for the other’s attention (and perhaps forgiveness) while the other would be totally cool if she fucked off back to wherever Geraldine has holed up for the past two seasons.

Geraldine is....problematic. She’s the best friend of The Final Girl in horror movies. Not conventionally “pretty” and maybe not entirely straight, whom in the final 15 minutes turns out to be the sinister ghoul who masterminded the murder of all the other dead teenagers-on-a-stick to get to the conventionally pretty girl all to herself. Those of y’all whom have seen High Tension know what I mean.. That’s Geraldine.

Would Carolyn’s daughter go so far to have Mummy all to herself, that she would kill her own brother? Can we say with certainty she wouldn’t when we don’t know the first thing about her? Who is Geraldine Stowton? Where has she been? What does she do for a living? What does she really want from Carolyn? One day as Carolyn comes home early, Geraldine lies to her face about having no visitors

Why? What is Geraldine’s deal anyhow? Could it possibly include murder? Sibling rivalry is a real thing.

While Konstantin, shadier than ever, remains the prime suspect in Kenny’s death, I’ve become much less confident in that belief. While he is the consummate schemer, in three seasons, we have yet to see Konstantin commit a murder himself. Unless he held Kenny at gunpoint, he seems less than the ideal hitman to take him out. He’s fine at sending Villanelle off to dead someone, but he steers clear from that sort of dirty business himself.

We know less than nothing of the majority of the new S3 characters. 1. Audrey the Receptionist: Does she have a thing for bathrooms/restrooms too? I’d like to know what is going on under that uni-braid ,besides Audrey keeps showing up in places when Eve is there. If she’s not crying she has to be spying and keeping tabs on Eve for The Twelve.

2. Paul the officious little prig., who is both patronizing and solicitous to Carolyn. Oh, and he wears a ring on the same hand and finger Anton did, the replacement handler Villanelle shot in the head within minutes of meeting his obnoxious butt. I'm sure that's only a coincidence. Paul is a sneaky so-and-so. Carolyn, better keep an eye on this dude.

3. Jaime: The hard-bitten, cynical, got-no-effs editor of The Bitter Pill, which may be some sort of version of Wikileaks or an online publication. It’s hard to tell since you never see anybody actually publish a damn thing. He also fancies Eve (quelle surprise) and now she’s holed up at his place. Perhaps Jaime hopes he can chip through Eve’s walls of resistance by massive exposure in a controlled environment to his sparkling personality, devastating sex appeal, and bilious clouds of vape smoke. You are circling an airport you are never going to allowed to land on, brah. Admire Eve’s hair up close, but it is never going to get personal. Eve is off the knob.

4. Bear: What we don’t know about this guy is a bottomless pit. We don’t even know him by anything than his superhero name. That’s fine. Nobody is calling for a solo episode exploring How Bear Became Bear.

His only reason to draw breath is to provide Eve some tech support after Kenny’s swan dive to the street. Might Bear be working for The Twelve? Sure, but then so could anyone at The Bitter Pill Gaslighting Eve is the show’s longest-running gag on her and she keeps falling for it.

Bear is a nerdy Incel who is afraid of women. Particularly smelly ones who drop their underwear in his trash basket. He should be happy as it is the closest he’s been to a woman’s underwear in a long time.

5. Helene: We know zip about this extremely intimidating representative of The Twelve except she is clearly so far above the heads of Dasha and Konstantin, they couldn’t breathe in the rarefied air lives in. Helene looks like someone who hold meetings and totally run them, kick asses both metaphorically and physically while taking no names and giving no fucks. She scares the shit out of Dasha and when she and Villanelle meet, it’s going to be fascinating to behold. Following the events of “Are You From Pinner?” if Villanelle was manic before, the pendulum may have swung firmly in the opposite direction and she’s in a distracted and depressed funk. Murdering your mama will do that, even if she was a callous, cold-hearted asshole.

A Villanelle on her “a” game does not show up for an interview with a powerful member of the secret organization looking like she had bed head. That blue suit is rocking, but alas, Villanelle still be shook from the events of the last two odd-numbered episodes. It’s to be expected even the great ones have off-days.

It’s curious Helene declines Dasha’s eager offer to take Eve out. Theoretically, it should be super easy, barely an inconvenience to knock off a heavy-drinking, bitter, and confused former MI5/6 agent who fucked up as badly as it possible to in Rome, and ended shot low in the back high in the shoulder by a horny Russian assassin. Dasha has shown she does NOT “still got it” and she doesn’t scare me. A strong breeze would blow away a lightweight like her. Big talk. Small game. Dasha is past her prime and doesn’t post much of a threat. Helene does, and appears positioned to become a Big Bad who could stick around and make things extremely scary for Villaneve. I like Helene and hope we get to see just how bad of a bad girl she really is.

6. Moe. He’s a handsome devil, but Eve was right when she told him he might not be cut out for this line of work. Carolyn’s supposed “bodyguard” crapped the bed in the when he froze as Villanelle almost blew away Carolyn while gunning down her true target. Moe hasn’t been seen since. We may see him again, but if we don’t it won’t be much of a shock.

7. Dasha. The supposed Big Bad Wolf who whacked her own boyfriend when he pissed her off and went on to train Villanelle to be her replacement master assassin of The Twelve. Alas, she has the same problem as Konstantin and 70′s rock bands; she’s stayed on the stage too damn long, doesn’t dress age appropriately and is starting to show her age and increasing inefficiency. The Rolling Stones and Dasha aren’t dead yet, but both are hanging on by their fingertips and need to hang it up because they are really embarrassing themselves .

8. Geraldine (again). When Eve is on the roof to toss the cake, there are two chairs and one is overturned. Almost as though Kenny was sitting down and having a conversation with someone before things turned violent and fatal. That doesn't sound like Konstantin to me. He sends Villanelle to take out targets. but we’ve never seen him kill anyone and why would he chat with Kenny before forcing him off the roof? Did Geraldine commit fratricide? Maybe. Did Kenny get taken out by his own sister? Possibly. Would she do such a terrible thing to eliminate their mum’s clear favorite so she can have Carolyn all to herself? Conceivably. Villanelle told us herself, “Never trust people on their looks. I can see scary people a mile away - it's the good people you have to worry about” and to presume Geraldine is a good person is a risky proposition. This is Killing Eve we’re talking about here. There are no innocents.

#Killing Eve #new characters #geraldine #Dasha the Niko Killer #the bitter pill #jaime #bear #audrey #moe #paul #Helene #kenny stowton #konstantin vasiliev #Eve Polastri #villanelle

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