ackermom

[ackermom]

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylm where they raised me

#insert defunct fandom website here #apparently lj still exists?? wild

[ackermom]

"someone's going to come looking for us," bertholdt whispers. instinct.

reiner's teeth are on his lips. "who?"

"i don't know." his body is flushed with nerves. his only defense is to protest with excuses he doesn't even believe. "annie."

snort. "annie. she doesn't even know where we are."

bertholdt doubts that, but he'll pretend it's true.

reiner pulls back. his pupils are wide in the dark. "do you want to stop?"

he must be red in the face. fragile and flustered as their bodies press together and a desire throbs within him. no, he doesn't want to stop. but there is something in the shadow of the trees that makes him quiet. something in the light of the near full moon that feels like a great eye peering down on him and watching the places where their hands meet. somehow he expects reiner to pull back and sit up and laugh at him, tease him about his pink cheeks and tell him it was all a joke. a dare. somehow, that would be easier.

but his eyes are full, genuine, his head crooked to bertholdt and the heartbeat pulsing in his veins fast and precious against bertholdt's skin.

"no," bertholdt whispers. he feels like a child the way he says it, admitting a lie to a schoolfriend in the dark. he can't put it into words. the touch of reiner's fingers on his wrist and the heat of their bodies together. he wants it, like some nature he didn't know he had. buried a hundred years deep and caged in his heart through barbed wire fence. their ancestors loved this way. but they are born of a different empire, and some natures are not allowed.

this is a story told; that is all they are in the end, the things they tell themselves, the things they are told from birth. high walls encircle the devils' island, but the people within do not know that name. empires have not touched these lands. there is an ignorance within, a freedom that bertholdt wishes he could understand.

sometimes he thinks about leaving behind everything they know. sometimes he wants to shed their names and find a green field somewhere in these walls, where they can live the rest of the short lives they have, forgetting the things they have left behind. forgetting— it cannot be that hard to do.

#reibert #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #snk #aot #emwrites #unfinished part of an unfinished piece

[ackermom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Armin Arlert/Onyankopon Characters: Armin Arlert, Onyankopon (Shingeki no Kyojin) Additional Tags: During the Four Year Time Skip (Shingeki no Kyojin), Canon Universe, Implied Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits Summary:

“You would make a good scout,” Armin tells him.

Onyankopon’s smile is blue in the twilight. “And you, a volunteer.”

#snk #aot #armin arlert #aot onyankopon #emwrites #fic that’s about armin that’s about bertholdt that’s about armin that’s about eren that’s about

[ackermom]

Hey ackermom! Could I get Eren/Reiner for #22? Thank you!!~

it’s been almost 5 years but anon guess what

#never back down never what #ererei #snk #emwrites #answered

[ackermom]

Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Reiner Braun/Porco Galliard Characters: Porco Galliard, Reiner Braun, Pieck Finger, Zeke Yeager, Theo Magath, Porco Galliard’s Parents, Karina Braun, Gabi Braun Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Canon Compliant, Pre-Marley Arc (Shingeki no Kyojin), During the Four Year Time Skip (Shingeki no Kyojin), Porco Galliard-centric, Original Character(s), Pregnancy, Abortion, Sterilization, Medical Experimentation, just snk things~, Sparring, First Kiss, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, ...sort of Summary:

War is coming. It's only a matter of time before the rest of the world realizes Marley has lost two of their titans and strikes on their vulnerabilities. Until then, the empire is biding its' time. The remaining Warriors are sent home and instructed to stay behind walls, lay low, and lie.

If only standing still were that easy.

#IT'S OVER #snk #aot #gallirei #porco galliard #reiner braun #emwrites #little streets being my second longest fic is certifiably insane

[ackermom]

last chapter of little streets tonight

#gallirei #putting this in the gallirei tag because i deserve it #fic writers can have a little self promo as a treat

[ackermom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Anna/Kratos Aurion Characters: Kratos Aurion, Anna (Tales of Symphonia), Mithos Yggdrasill, Yuan Ka-Fai, Pronyma (Tales of Symphonia), Kvar (Tales of Symphonia) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Universe, Character Study Summary:

Kratos falls.

#okay it's MY turn to write the kranna story #tales of symphonia #emwrites #kranna

[ackermom]

highly underrated moment in tales of symphonia is when the party ends up back in sylvarant and drops off their 4000 year old maniacal genocidal angel overlord stowaway to be babysat by a civil servant named neil

#the party: this journey is dangerous! 😤 #mithos tagging along for funsies: 🤪😇 #tales of symphonia

[ackermom]

win! this dumbass meta is being plagiarized!

An Unhinged Analysis on How the Marley Arc Set the Rest of the Story Up to Fail

I wanted to do a little reflection on the War for Paradis arc, because it was by far by my least favorite arc in the manga, and though I have a greater appreciation for it seeing it animated, this viewing has also given me a little more insight into why I disliked it and what could have made it better.

I think other people have made enough points about the shallow character actions in this arc. I want to comment on why that happened, looking at the bigger picture of how the story got stuck and trapped itself in its own design. I do think with some changes in dialogue and pacing, the last twenty-ish chapters of the manga could have come to the same conclusions, reached a more agreeable audience reception, and would've generally been an alright ending.

But still not necessarily a good ending. I think it's a mistake when people say that just rewriting the last few chapters would fix everything they dislike about the ending. Attack on Titan has always had issues with pacing and framing, but in the last arc it's especially noticeable. Part of the problem, in my opinion, is that Isayma wrote himself into a story that was... hard to write.

Hard to keep track of all the plot points, character motivations, backstories, and timelines. Hard to write everything that needed to happen, in the order that it needed to happen, in order for the story to make sense, compel readers, and elicit an emotional response all at once. War for Paradis is complicated when you start to unpack it. There are a lot of moving parts: all the factions, all the plot points, all the themes and motifs, and all that of leading up to the ending. But that's not really its fault. It owes most of its problems to the Marley arc.

This may be my hottest take yet, because I love the Marley arc. I think when you're reading straight through, it's a great next step. Having come back from the basement and learned the truth of the outside world, the story poses a question: if we kill everyone on the other side of the sea, will we finally be free?

And then it takes us to the other side of the sea. It flips that question on its head by introducing us to new and old characters in situations where they're pondering the same essential struggle that Eren and company are facing: what does freedom mean to us, how do we achieve it, and are we willing to pay the price? We get new perspectives from characters once considered enemies. We learn about their backgrounds, and they become more sympathetic. We learn about the greater world and how much more is really out there— how infinitesimal our struggles have been so far in compared to the grand scheme of things. We get some great parallels and motifs. Even a jump forward in time, which makes everything feel so new and exciting.

We're so taken in by the warriors that we're no longer sure who to root for when they cross paths with the Survey Corps. And that's reinforced by the story (at least at first). It's the first thing Mikasa says to Eren. You've killed hundreds of people, even children. There's no coming back from this.

That, in turn, becomes the problem the story faces when it tries to return to Paradis. There's no coming back from the other side of the sea, not really, not when you've jumped forward three years and given us new perspectives to consider. We can't just go back to the way things were before, and unfortunately, that's kind of what the story tries to do. That's fine, I guess, but ultimately it feels weak and a little confusing, and this is what leads to the rest of the story always feeling a little bit off.

Sasha's death is the emotional hinge between these two arcs. That's the turning point that then allows us to be led back to the Survey Corps' perspective. And having been separated from them for a while, this actually serves its purpose well— the emotional impact of one of these characters dying is really sudden and shocking, because we were just reunited with them; and and it leaves us wanting to know more about what they've been up to, how they came to this point, and what their goal is, because they had no concrete plan the last time we saw them.

For me, the letdown comes when we're given all of that in flashbacks. And it's like, fine, that's what snk does, but it just keeps happening, and the flashbacks come out of order too, so not only is it not emotionally resonant, it's also just confusing at times. And it sucks, because we're introduced to some great new characters and some really interesting and important plot points— but it's all already happened, and we don't get to see the development of and/or fallout from any of these things. We're told over and over that the Survey Corps are struggling to decide what to do and whose plan to follow, but the storytelling wipes out any of the work that would help us feel that emotional burden they're bearing, and it just tells us what happened instead.

I do struggle to criticize this part, because there are some things I like about it and some genuinely good moments, and more than that, it's hard to say what would be a better alternative. But this is my point— the Marley arc creates a paradox. In itself, it's great and insightful storytelling that adds a lot of depth and rich character development. But it sets up a situation that is really hard to resolve: how do we return to the Survey Corps' perspective, catch up, and tie all of this back together in a way that's satisfying and understandable?

We could ask if a return to the Survey Corps' perspective is necessary at all, and I think that's interesting, but ultimately not conducive to the story that Isayama was telling. He planned to go back. Attack on Titan isn't just about Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, but it is about them, and that's where the story needed to end as it began.

One of the clearest examples of this failure is Sasha and Nicolo. This is a pretty minor point to pick at, relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of the story, but it's a good explanation of what I mean. At first, their connection seems really emotionally resonant, right? Sasha dies, suddenly and tragically, and then we find out via flashback that she may have had an interest or relationship with this Marleyan prisoner of war. He cooks for her, and she lights up his life. Sweet, right? Tragic, right?

It works, but it's such a cheap shot and such an Isayama thing to do. To write something shocking or tragic, and then later add a layer of emotion on top of it like an afterthought, as if to say, here's the emotional depth you were looking for! Ymir's backstory was handled the same way, and I appreciated that the anime moved it into a part of the story where she was still alive, so that when we did see her death (or lack thereof), it was with the full understanding of who she was as a person and what that meant for her character arc. Because killing someone off, and then explaining who they were afterwards, isn't for the benefit of the character who died— it's for the characters who lived.

So how much sadder would it have been if we had known Sasha loved Nicolo? If we'd come at that moment from the Survey Corps' perspective? Maybe it wouldn't have been as much of a shock. But if we had done the emotional work alongside those characters to introduce them, build that relationship, and maybe see a budding romance, only for it to be cut short before our eyes— how much more would that have hurt?! I think it's worth saying that Sasha's death coming out of the warriors' perspective was likely intended to draw less ire towards Gabi, but it's not like that did much good. And romance aside, it's just kind of a disappointing way to tell a story. To constantly circle back, trying to add gravitas to things that don't feel like they deserve them. We haven't done the work to earn that!

This isn't to say that the Marley arc shouldn't have happened, or that I wish we had stayed with the Survey Corps for four long years. I think the Marley arc was not only great and insightful, but also a necessary measure for the story Isayama was trying to tell, and he knew that. We needed to see the other side. But the time skip and the perspective change, especially both happening at once, dug a hole that was hard to write out of. I'm not sure what a better path would have been, but once I understood this, the shortcomings of the rest of the manga made a lot more sense to me.

As I said above, the War for Paradis arc is really complicated when you break it down. It may not seem like it on the surface because it's just characters running around making bad decisions, but there are a lot of moving parts that have been threaded along to this point in the story, especially once the rumbling begins (with an unspecified countdown ticking away— this is important for a point below). Just to explore a few of these threads:

Connie kidnaps Falco to a) bring back his mother, whose titanization has been an emotional sticking point for him since all the way back before Utgard, and b) highlight a potential end to his personal trope of being betrayed by taking agency back into his own hands, even by bloody means, which c) makes for a really interesting if short-lived commentary on his character when he ultimately drops this goal to save the self-hating

Armin, who gets overwhelmed with responsibility and a) makes the sort of rash decision to chase Connie when there are arguably much bigger issues at hand, b) highlights his insecurity about being chosen to live over Erwin, living up to his legacy, and "giving up his humanity" to accomplish his goals, which c) reinforces the lose-lose outcome of the serumbowl as the cruel part of an otherwise beautiful world and in my humble opinion signals an ominous motif in the 11th hour that really had me wanting Armin to give up on his dream and die, and so he d) lashes out at

Mikasa, which in turn a) enables her to go out on her own and ultimately reclaim the scarf from Louise and come to the decision to stop Eren, which is b) necessary for her to do in order to be the one who kills him which is c) apparently thematically necessary for Ymir to see in order to end the curse of the titans, which... whatever, but before she does that, she has to d) flounder a bit more and seek support from other sources, such as

Jean, who is a) struggling to cope in the face of Eren's full-scale rumbling and Floch's control of the military, while also b) scheming behind Floch's back because he can't throw away all that good character development, but at the same time is c) kind of having a breakdown and tempted by the fantasy of a normal life that is presented to him by

Floch, who am I enjoying a lot more in the anime than I originally did in the manga, congratulations to him.

In short, there's a lot going on. And we haven't even gotten to the warriors. This is just a handful of elements, and already, they are so tightly interwoven that it's hard to separate them from one another, and even more than that, the important threads originate at the beginning of the story and have been strung all this way, weaving with other elements and growing bigger and more complicated with each arc. It's hard to keep all of this straight. Not to be an Isayama simp because he has made some questionable decisions in this story, but I think we have to be fair to him and admit that this was a hard story to write.

That being said—

Once the rumbling begins, the story has a finite amount of time to reach its conclusion. There's no specific indication for how long the rumbling will take before it reaches completion, or at least before it reaches the point of no return. We're shown something like a few days passing before the alliance gathers to stop Eren.

But the rumbling is like Chekov's gun with a countdown. Once you introduce it, it has to return. Once the rumbling starts, it has to stop. That sounds kind of obvious, but the point is that there's a certain point after the rumbling begins in universe in which the story is left to resolve almost all of its plot lines before it catches up to Eren, when the focus needs to narrow in on the final conflict, climax, denouement, and ending.

That's a lot of plot lines to resolve! And that has to be done while the overarching story is still progressing. All individual character motivations need to be realized (or be on their way there) while the separate groups also come together and form the alliance that will work together to overcome the final conflict. Some of those points overlap— a lot of the bad blood between the Survey Corps and the Warriors ties into both the beginning of the climax and the resolution of their individual character arcs— but not all of them do.

Gabi has to resolve things with Kaya as part of her greater character arc, but Kaya and the Braus family are a whole different thread of the story that needs to be closed off before we can move on to bigger things. Louise is another loose thread that Mikasa has to take care of before coming to the point of joining the alliance. Levi doesn't even get to do any of this, because Zeke is nowhere to be seen, so he's left sitting on the sidelines for most of this arc after being a major player throughout the story.

I don't think you need me to tell you that almost all of these resolutions or developments fall short. The campfire scene is one of the worst offenders, and it's really disappointing when you think about it in terms of the Marley arc. That arc set up so many great parallels and potentials for confrontations and resolutions between characters about all the evils they've done to each other. Gabi's character was set up as sort of a mirror image of Eren, but even after she learns her lesson that ✨ there are no devils because we're all the same ✨, it's a little weird that she's made to defer to the Survey Corps and lumped in with Reiner and Annie just by association, even though the Survey Corps have legitimate reasons to have beef with them, especially considering the level of compassion they've had for Eren this entire time, an adult making far worse decisions than Gabi.

Also, maybe this is an unpopular opinion but Reiner is a total piece of shit during the campfire scene and deserved to get jumped by Jean. But then he should've looked in Jean's eyes and said didn't you guys do the same thing to Bertholdt? And then at least the message would've been maybe we can't forgive each other, but we can work together instead of being one-sided, like the Warriors are the only ones who have anything to apologize for. Armin was real quiet in that scene.

Anyways, my point is that it's a difficult situation the story is in. The rumbling is presented as an imminent and apocalyptic threat with immense stakes. The pressure is on: for the characters to act, and for the story to reach its end.

On one hand, you need to take some breathing room after the rumbling begins to accomplish some of these character-driven goals and give them a reasonable amount of time to strategize and make amends. That also gives the reader time to prepare for what's to come.

But on the other hand, the longer you're away from the rumbling, the less urgent it feels, and the harder it will be to circle back to the same momentum that was built up so well in earlier chapters.

In my opinion, there's a slow decline in energy after the rumbling begins in the story. Because they have to kill the pure titans, and then Annie's back, and she has to tell her life story, which... not to be unpopular, but her backstory serves no real purpose at this point. And Connie has to kidnap and kill a child, and Jean has to pretend to side with Floch, and Mikasa has to do whatever, and Armin has to convince Connie not to kill child despite having killed several himself. And then Levi has to be shown alive and Hange has to be there too, and Magath and Pieck are there, and Yelena and Onyankopon are there, and Floch is there too, and Gabi develops as a character, and Reiner is sad, and so on...

It doesn't happen right away, but then suddenly you're several chapters past the beginning of the rumbling, and you're like, damn how slow are they walking??

I think this is a similar predicament that was faced at the end of the Marley arc. Once again, there are a lot of things to accomplish, a lot of perspectives to consider, plot points to wrap up, themes to sustain, and it just feels overwhelming to think about having to fit all of that into a few chapters. I think this is where it becomes clear, at least to me, that Isayama wanted to get the rest of the manga over with. If this arc had been set up a little better— more characters written out or resolved sooner, some plot threads eliminated if they ultimately did not add anything, the weight of this being some characters' final lines being considered— it could've felt a lot cleaner, a lot quicker, and at least maintained the momentum that was set in motion by the initiation of the rumbling and the revelations Eren showed in paths.

Long story short— most of what happens in the War for Paradis arc is necessary work to close out the story. It feels like reading down a list and checking off the items one by one (for completion, not thoroughness). Gabi sees the error of her ways? Check! Marco's death comes full circle? Check! The warrior and scouts each have their crimes aired in the open so they can come to an understanding and join forces? Check! Isayama makes several last-ditch efforts at humor? Check, check, and check!

But checking all the boxes doesn't make a story good. A lot of these things are half-assed anyways, or maybe the intention is there, but it falls short because it's not given the proper time and attention. I know I said this arc feels slow when we know the rumbling is happening in the background, but I almost think it would be better if it was longer. Maybe if we saw less actual time pass (we see multiple sunsets in just a few chapters), and maybe if certain characters, like Armin and Mikasa, had a heightened awareness of the rumbling throughout, allowing them to give us a sense of urgency, while other characters who've been out of action, like Hange and Levi, can take a chapter to give us the space we need to slow down and think for a moment.

In the end— the Marley arc was a great turn, but ultimately took the story down a path that Isayama couldn't turn back from; and I think the story ended up running into itself in too many places, ultimately crashing and burning as it crossed the finish line.

#ive made it folks

[ackermom]

a piece of a thing that will otherwise never see the light of day. post-canon armin/annie, nsfw-ish

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

"how's the lovemaking?" pieck asks.

annie supposes they are friends. funny, that word, as funny as pieck, no longer the long-legged little girl annie remembers, always wearing a dopey half-smile that made annie want to kick her in the face. she's become something far more irritating now, something lithe and beautiful with the long dark hair and the pale heart face. tall and sharp and thin— the kind of woman who can ask about lovemaking as she finishes her manicure and watches the waves out the window.

something annie has never wanted to be, not until she knew it was something she is not. she hates pieck for even making her wonder, staring in the dim cracked mirror of their steerage cabin and seeing herself, really, for the first time. she hates her for it. so, friends.

"you don't have to ask every time," annie says. never mind that the lovemaking— pieck's word— is few and far between at all, let alone in these small bunker cabins where one can hear a neighbor drop a pin on the carpet. she's not so callous to deny that she likes the feel of armin's collarbones beneath her hands and the heat on his skin pressed into her thighs, though she wouldn't call it lovemaking. she wouldn't call it anything. it's probably better that way.

"i want to know if he's getting better," pieck says. "you never give me details."

"the details are private."

"he must be doing something right to keep you coming back. or should i say, to keep you coming."

well— therein lies the problem.

"oh," that bitch says, putting down her nail polish. "i see. finally something the genius can't figure out."

annie finally wrangles her stockings off and makes the mistake of glaring at pieck in the mirror— bad idea, for the curious eyes and arched eyebrows that look back at her, something sly and suggestive in the rising curve of her lips as she watches annie from across the bunkroom. she turns her back to pieck again, busying herself at the bureau, but she is annoyed— bitch— at the revelation uttered aloud, if only for the implication that annie would let a guy prod at her for hours to "figure it out" when she could just tell him what to do and get it over with. the trouble is, she doesn't know either.

the trouble is, her sex education was provided by a wiry-hired marleyan doctor focused on the science of reproduction and the risks to avoid should a warrior ever find herself undercover for the purpose of seduction and entrapment. nothing was said of love or desire. no instructions were given for the warm space between her legs other than not to get pregnant, and so far the little rubber diaphragm she impulse-bought at a pharmacy on the mainland has been winning that battle for her. the only reward she's gotten for her sexual exploits has been cleaning armin's come from her thighs as he apologizes and offers to try again next time.

it's just getting old, that's all.

"there's nothing to figure out," is all she says then. there is a lot to figure out.

she hears pieck blow on her nails. "don't let a man use you like that, dear. one day you'll find yourself knocked up without a hand to hold."

she'll have her own, annie thinks, remembering grim, clenched-jaw moments sitting on the toilet after she tugs out her soiled diaphgram, praying to whatever gods are shitting on them that none of his seed makes it inside. mostly she relies on gravity.

"i'm not letting him use me," annie says. although, at this point—

"think of karina braun," pieck says, ignoring her. "that's your future if your carry on like this. imagine having to raise reiner."

annie throws her a sharp glance, finding her flapping one hand as she waits for the nail polish dry. pieck blows on her fingers, then catches her eye.

"i've always hated that woman," she confesses. she grimaces. "but to her credit, i'm not sure i could've done a better job."

she blows on her hand again. when she finds annie's still watching, she raises her head, her gaze softening into something...— ...something.

"what do you see in him?" pieck asks her.

annie looks away. that's as good as any answer. she's not sure she knows. she doesn't know shit anymore, or maybe she never did. but armin understands in a way that none of the others do. they wouldn't get it. not even reiner, who's the closest to her heart; but it's a soiled black hole he left there, in every part of her. and not pieck, not the way they're speaking now, like they've always been friends. they don't even know each other.

maybe she only wants him because she wants to hear his voice, the way he talked to her for years when she was half-asleep, folded up into herself like a cocoon underwater, watching the light break through the surface and trying to hold her breath for just a little longer. maybe she'd be fucking hitch instead if she was here, or maybe it's only herself she's seeing— creeping up from the depths to break through the layers burying her to finally find the light.

#aruani #annie leonhart #pieck finger #snk #aot #being a little evil by putting this in the aruani tag #but slander is my favorite kind of shipping #emwrites

[ackermom]

clean (tv) 🤝 eremika

it is fine cotton, they had told mikasa. thin and rich and good for humid days on the coast. harvested from the lowest valleys and spun by craftswomen in the hills on the other side of the sea. their sea, not hers. the other sea. fine white cotton with tiny pearl buttons down the back. it had taken two women to dress her the first time she put it on, but what she remembered most was the sea. that there was more than one. 

funny, the way the stars look tonight. it's what she thinks about then, sand in her socks as she stumbles to the foot of a dune and paws at the deep red splatter on her breast. another sea. seven of them. when her fingers come away wet, some part of her thinks first, blood, but the taste of her tongue is like cinnamon, like fire. her lips, like fire. and under the stars it's all funny, the little splatters down her neck and dress where her lips had slipped and the lanterns had danced in her eyes when she blinked, when she finally let go of her gaze and turned away. that was when she'd spilled the wine all down her front, and now it bleeds like fire from her breast. now she sits in fine white cotton, spitting into her hand to wipe it away as the constellations giggle overhead. 

"here, water."

the girl is no older than her, though the bags under her eyes tell of long days and long nights. that, at least, they have in common. many nights awake, waiting for a sun they never wanted to see again. woman. she's the one who translated for them, when the camp came alive and the wine kept flowing. mikasa's not sure it's even wine, or at least it's not like what they have on the island. something rare and sweet she's never tasted. but she's smelled it, plucked from fields in the southern lands of wall rose. and maria, once. she remembers a long summer in those fields, kneeling between the vines, their feet bare in the dirt, crawling with ants and beetles they'd find in their packs later that night. the pearl white grapes smooth between her dusty fingers, baskets and baskets baking under the sun. 

did she know then, girl, what a pearl was? sometimes she fears the sea and all it's brought them. all they've brought to it. seven of them, mikasa thinks. the lanterns in the tent flicker, and the night smells like fire. too many, too much.

#eremika #mikasa ackerman #snk #aot #emwrites #do you guys ever know what the fuck im talking about #if you do tell me so i can know too

[ackermom]

there's still dust when the soldier lifts his hand. bertholdt sees his skin— grime laid in patches across his palm where his hand glanced over the hot metal, never grasping round the surface of the barrel to keep from getting burned. even so, his fingers are pink beneath the dust and dirt, from the heat or just from the wear of the ropes that pulled the cannons from their carts and onto the field.

"antiques," the soldier announces, as an observation, or an accomplishment, as if that's something to be proud of and he expects to look up and find bertholdt nodding in agreement and appreciation. "these suckers killed a good few of your lot back in the day."

his fingers smudge together as he dusts off his hands. he looks up with a dark grin, his eyes hidden behind the glare of the sun. bertholdt nods in agreement. some things are just facts.

"nearly a hundred years old and probably still finer than whatever they've got to throw at you on the island," the soldier continues. "intel says their cannons are about the same, give or take a few decades. their whole island is armed with weapons stolen at the end of the war. can't be much use left in them by now."

the black metal is glimmering with heat beneath the midmorning sun, even under the dust. three are lined up on the grass, the middle of a field so wide bertholdt can't see to either end, and they're manned by a huddle of soldiers he thinks have seen better days. or worse ones, judging by the stories they've been spewing out all morning. the youngest among them sailed in the north sea armada twenty-five years ago, and the oldest looks as if he might have seen the fall of the great houses with his own eyes. their wicked ancestors, that is, the strongholds of devils whose evil power succumbed to the might of this great empire. at home they say those devils still walk the streets, the descendants of those who met their deserved ends at marley's storm and swords. he used to pray he was not one of them.

it's stupid now, the thought that his family could be descended from anyone other than people who were as poor then as they are now. but he used to pray— if he could not be good, at least let him not be wicked.

"he's half-mad for this," the soldier is saying. he wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his head, and bertholdt sees his palm is still thick with grime. "no expense spared for magath's little warriors, eh? you're getting the royal treatment from us."

not me, bertholdt thinks. he glances to the distance, to the starting line where the race will begin with a flash, a giant scuff mark in the dirt, and a sprint through cannonballs as if there was a wall a hundred meters high standing where they are now. they talked about it. magath's soldiers think him only half-mad, when the truth is he nearly lost it all the day he grumbled out loud whether they had time to reproduce the behemoth fossil they'll have to smash through when they reach the island. there was a hush and a mutter, before it was deemed too expensive, even for the most ambitious operation in marley's history.

he can't see the other end of the field beneath the hard glare of the sun. but the cannons are aimed that way, and they're being loaded to shoot. the cannonballs make a thunderous clanking drop when they're rolled inside, like a bomb going off at the bottom of a well. a sound he's only heard from within.

"will it hurt?" he can't help but ask.

the soldier doesn't answer for a moment before he realizes bertholdt is talking to him, and then he laughs, waving for his grunts to load the last cannonball. "would it hurt if you took one of these to the knee? i'd think so, kid, but that's a question better answered by your lot. can you even feel pain?"

a stupid answer to a stupid question, bertholdt thinks when he's waved off the field so the test can begin. those cannons couldn't even reach his knee. 

#bertholdt hoover #snk #emwrites #baby bertholdt is like if a small deer starred in a revenge thriller

[ackermom]

it's a burning on her tongue, something dark and warm that coats her throat and gleans through her insides, feeding the embers in her that she did not know were stoking at the pit of her stomach: a fire, burning low, sparking in the night as the drink seeps deep into her blood and the heat on her skin rises higher.

she sees it in him too.

something roguish and puerile in her grin and steps at the shouts of boy that echo after her when she runs, quick on the street with the wind on her face. she's playing a game, dodging down the dark roads and weaving through the shoulders of passersby. it's a night out, a dare, a child's play with new rules made up each minute, and she is a marble rolling down the road, bumping between the cracks in the stones and laughing to herself, her hair pinned back beneath her cap, her cheeks flooded with the flush of drink on her face.

it is all a game until he pulls the cap from her head with one deft hand, her starry white hair falling over her shoulders in the dark. and the blood rushes in her, the flush on her skin paling out as she whips around to look at him, only to catch him walking away, already ahead of her, his stride long as his silence beckons for her to follow. then that boyish grin is gone, slipping into the shadow as something else overcomes her. she would call it merely curious, but she knows there are better words for what she feels, even as she treads through the quiet of the dark streets, each step left its second thought in its wake.

even without thinking, she knows better. the touch of his hand in her hair feeds her like the fire stoked inside her stomach. the hottest flame she has ever felt. so she follows. 

#breaking my silence #daemyra #house of the dragon #hotd #emwrites

[ackermom]

it is sunset on the twelfth day when annie first notices her cracks. the world is new, and so it seems all the sunlight. it glimmers over her skin as it sinks beneath the mountains, its warmth fragile and distant. something she thinks she should reach for as it disappears. something to bask in like the others do, like all of them at the end of the world, waiting for something better on the horizon. they all seem to understand what that might mean. annie finds she cannot begin to imagine.

she is coming apart like crystal, like the loose threads of a uniform she used to wear. she doesn't know now whatever held her together. when the sun does down, she realizes she has been breaking for a long time.

twilight comes, and she is kissing armin. something sweet and new. something that should taste like sunlight for a new world. it feels like the first time to her, every tender touch he lays on her skin, but she thinks he must have been here before, if only for the way she lets him dip her onto the bed. she couldn't just let him do that. she'd have to pretend to make him ask first, pinch her cheeks pink, and say something coy. that's what he would expect. that's what she should do.

he had asked her, at the beginning, if she wanted him to kiss her. annie had only nodded, not quite knowing how to tell him she didn't know. she thinks she'd let him take her whole the first time if he wanted, but she's not sure. she thinks she'd have to fuck him first to find out.

they don't light candles or lanterns. that's the only thing she knows she prefers, that he can't see her face. even so, she knows he can feel her hesitation. indecision is a better word, because annie has been trained not to hesitate in anything she does, and she doesn't hesitate even when he's kissing her, on top of her, with a gentle hand on her waist and his lips tasting like cold air, like the beer they've been drinking from the officers' quarters since the food in the storehouse ran out, and like nothing sometimes. nothing sweet or bitter, just warm. sometimes she thinks that's the only reason she holds him. he's warm.

she thinks all of this and more, and it must leave her cold to his touch because he pulls away. she can hardly find it in herself to feel disappointed. it's alright. she knows what she's like.

"i'm sorry," he tells her. "are you okay?"

"fine," she says.

only then does she find she can't meet his eyes in the darkness. their words may not be untrue, but they both know she is lying.

her first instinct then is to hit him. she knows all of his weak points, and she makes a plan without even having to think about it. he is on top, but he is careless and leaves her an opening. she could take him by the shoulders and flip him over to crush his throat with her weight before he could even speak. or she could take him by the arm and throw him into the dirt and hold him there with his shoulders cracking behind his back until he caves. she could be sweet. she could close her eyes and kiss him again, put a hand down his pants and let him rummage under her shirt. peel him away from himself until he is inside of her. that's where she could take him apart until he gives her what she wants. what is it that she wants?

“fine,” she repeats, pushing him away. just waiting for a sunrise.

#aruani #annie leonhart #armin arlert #snk #aot #emwrites

[ackermom]

when he breathes in, he can smell the smoke. something bitter lingers in the acrid aftertaste that touches his tongue, but he breathes again, and the room is warm, the cabin alive with golden light, the pale smoke from their fire drifting out the window into the night. it is open, the window by his bed, and in his warmth he feels the chill wrap around him like a blanket. warm in the cold night, watching the shadows of his friends dance on the cabin walls from where he sits in his top bunk, legs curled up beneath him. the beat of his heart feels strange in the back of his throat. it tastes the smoke, another day, another place, another fire. someone is reciting a poem to the beat of a drum. the world is heavy, like a bottle of wine stuffed with a cork, and he feels as if he could sink into its deep red, watching the glow of the fire light reflect his shadowed face on the glass. he feels as if he will never wake again.

when he does, it is night, still. still. he wakes to the cold wind with a leaden head like he's rising from a thousand days, like he has not slept in years. these years, he has done nothing but sleep. his throat burns, dry, and his eyes are heavy. it must have been only minutes. an hour. two. minutes, still, somewhere in the night over the walls of shiganshina.

the blue darkness feels hollow overhead. the moon lies behind the clouds, a sliver of light that lines the trees on the horizon with its glow. the plains before the wall lay open, a clear path to the sea that calls his name. whether it beckons him or warns him, he will not know until dawn comes in the west. another day, another place, another fire. for a moment, he thinks he can smell it. smoke or salt. but when he blinks, looking around, it's only the fire there, their scraps of wood roasted to its last kindlings as it burns and crumbles into embers, leaving ashes on the stone wall. its warmth has all gone out. its light, all but whittled down to a single wisp that shudders and wanes when the cold wind blows again.

his eyes fall to reiner on the other side of the fire. he lies prone with his face to the dim moonlight, a hand over his forehead, and the lines of his face drawn tight as his brow furrows and he dreams. then to ymir, opposite him, her back to bertholdt with her shoulders hunched up to her chin. in the blue light of the moon, her fingers are pale and cold as they clench at the edge of the stone wall where she sits. in the weeds of his dreams, bertholdt thinks for a moment that they ought to go back inside.

have they not been stupid long enough? ignorant little boys, too blind to see the things so plainly laid before them. too hungry, too greedy. have they been less than the monsters they were made to be? have they been like the wicked half-men of old witches' fairytales, stepping through open doors with smiles of teeth, only to find the taste of wine sweeter than that of blood? four walls, when one would do? have they grown so fat and lazy by the hearth of the fire in those cabins where they once lived that they have forgotten what it means to truly burn?

he finds his eyes on reiner again. he lies with his hand over his eyes, and his chest hardly moves as he breathes. he may not be sleeping. but he is dreaming.

bertholdt turns his gaze south again, the parched plains of the island laid flat before him in the moonlight. summer has rotted this land to its roots. there is nothing left of this place. these walls, like withered yellow grasses beneath his feet. he breathes in, seeking the call of the sea. it smells like smoke.

#reibert #bertholdt hoover #reiner braun #snk #aot #emwrites

[ackermom]

48. things you said on our honeymoon

they are married under the willow tree.

married, perhaps, is a strong word; there is no court in the land that accepts their union. even the crown cannot change that. but what is a wedding if not bittersweet? a morning in the tall grasses by the river as the depths of a new world linger on the other side of the walls. a queen with a tiara of rosemary, for remembrance, and chrysanthemums to last through the cold winter; and her lover by her side, at once both consort and captive. 

a marriage by any other means is a failure of the heart. historia decides this one bleak morning in the palace, listening to the hummingbirds through the open windows as she lays sprawled in her clean white sheets and wills away the heat in the air. marriage, for most people, is the end of their lives. for some, like her mother, only the mention of it was enough to kill. 

the wisp of the willow in the wind is the only witness that sees their hands bound together as the river chortles and the summer breezes roll over the fields. they say very little on their traipse through the grasses, green leaves dancing at their knees; there is so much sound in the city, and everything echoes in the dungeons where ymir has been sleeping. historia has made sure she is not bound in chains. the stillness of the meadow is unmatched, despite how it moves, all the birds and the animals and the river where they sit on the back, their toes just at the edge of the water. it is rhythmic in a way that nothing else in her life feels; nothing else except for the nights when they love, two bodies rocking together the way the river rolls and the heat simmers on their skin. 

sometimes everything else feels far away when they are together. sometimes she cannot imagine them being together anywhere else. she thinks they never could be. 

"they have no idea what is waiting for them on the other side," ymir says. 

a world, historia supposes. the sea, if their whispers are to be believed. ymir has said very little except for that which has been coaxed out of her. her crass words crack open only enough to let in a glimpse of the light on the other side, but for the most part, she has left them in the dark. everyone must be allowed some secrets. still, she has said enough, and the survey corps strive to ride beyond their borders, more than ever, searching for the land past the walls of shiganshina. 

"i suppose i should care," historia says. 

ymir turns her head. "do you think so? i don't know if i do."

"don't you want to put a stop to it?" she asks. "whatever's going on out there. whatever they did to you."

the river babbles by their feet, laughing as it trips over the grey stone that trickle down the hillside. the fields dance with their green grasses as the breeze blows through, wips of clouds drifting on the pale blue sky overhead. ymir once told her they call this place paradise. 

“i might prefer to stay on the run,” ymir says. “you should know that life is more fun when you’re an outlaw.”

historia turns her head, watching as ymir lowers herself to the ground, her arms and legs spread out. she almost disappears into the grass, sinking into the wisps of green, and historia feels the urge to do the same, falling down where no one can find her. 

"they'll come for you eventually," she says.

"they'll come for all of us," ymir answers, lying back in the grass. "i say, let them."

#yumihisu #yumikuri #historia reiss #ymir snk #emwrites

[ackermom]

the moon is waning. that’s what he’s thinking about in the hesitation, what he’s looking at in the darkness as he blinks and finds himself in a blue field of wheat, a space somewhere quiet away from the lanterns and fiddles in the distance over the hills. the grasses are tall this time of year, summer's burning just around the bend; and the moon has passed from its peak to something smaller, slender, disappearing into the milky midnight. 

for a moment, it takes him aback, this passing of time. in this strange land, this other, with no newspapers, no radios, no wars and orders to measure the days, they mark their time by the phase of the moon. when it is full or ripe, and when it is narrow, impossible to see. the seasons are their hours. when the wind blows, reiner turns to see he is not alone.

a harvest moon will come in the autumn. an amber light, a golden halo that draws in the weeping warmth before the fields descend to winter’s frost. but the tide of summer night is dark, and its moonlight blue; like a sorrow that hums of the things to come. they will not here when the harvest moon lights up this land. there may be no land left to glimmer under its golden glow. 

“there’s still time to change our minds.”

reiner knows it is bertholdt before he speaks, but it is the tenderness of his soft voice that makes reiner cast his gaze to him and the pale light that falls over his face as he stares down at the grasses in the wind. down to their hands, intertwined; or rather, one clinging to the other, hanging on still. he realizes they are walking, a traipse hand in hand through the wheat, and when he looks up again, he sees their barracks in the distance, warm wood and soft windows simmering beneath the midnight haze. 

“and do what?” he hears himself say. he is asking. he does not know. 

bertholdt's fingers are warm around his. “i don’t know. we had a plan. we can still go back to it.”

he does not feel his footsteps as they walk in the wheat. “i don’t know if we can ever go back.”

#reibert #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #snk #aot #emwrites