random aot headcanons that are far from canon
- yelena has an accent, i can definitely see her with a russian accent
- bertholdt loves funnel cakes, he tried learning how to make them himself but it didn't really work out
- jean struggles a lot with his handwriting but is too embarrassed to ask anyone for help
- levi loves knitting, he even taught gabi how to knit
- annie also has an accent, though i can't pinpoint what accent would be best on her
- zeke coughs a lot to the point where it's painful for him, it's due to his smoking
- mikasa is afraid of vampires, eren told her and armin a scary story try while they were on a camping trip and the story has haunted her ever since
- porco hates the summer, he hates sweating and he hates the burning hot sun, marcel is the opposite
- eren & armin like holding hands, mostly due to the fact that arming gets really nervous sometimes, everyone (connie and jean) think it's weird but eren could care less
- erwin loves planting flowers, especially with his dad, ot's how they bond
did anyone else during their first watch of aot just automatically assume that reiner and bertholdt were a pre-established couple because of how they were literally always together or was that just me
I was saving Aot wallpapers when I came across this one, who is the girl (?) in the back who's passed out?
Sad cat Annie hugging big brother bear Reiner will never not be cute.
i use tiktok mostly just to post my own edits and see my mutuals stuff now bc im sick of the fandom on there. most of them clearly watched the show with their head up their ass or smth because theyāre manage to come up with the most simultaneously hilarious and horrible takes ever.
also because not a single one of them can take bertholdtās character seriously without rehashing the exact same name jokes iāve heard since i joined the fandom in 2021. like sure some are funny but it gets so old so quickly, and when you make a post actually going into his character and being a bit more serious the comments are just āpoor [some word beginning with b]ā like PLEASE SHUT UP FOR A MOMENT!!!
literally had to put in the caption of one of my bert videos āstfu about his name for onceā bc i knew the kind of comments iād receive if i didnāt.
this fandom rather completely forgets his character (who is extremely important to the plot and towards the entire character of reiner but thatās a whole other thing), hates him for what he did even tho they love reiner/annie, or they treat him like a joke and never bother to go past surface level with his character.
he is the most interesting warrior imo because he was the first to openly admit and see that all the fighting was stupid and pointless. that the paradis eldians were no different from him and him killing them wasnāt personal, it was what had to be done to save his father. thereās alot more to him but im worried this will become like 3k words if i dont stop but most of the fandom canāt even comprehend that its actually ridiculous.
people treat him like absolute shit because he died first and he was weak when firstly shut the fuck up?? he was not weak in the slightest and had the most powerful titan ability bar the actual fucking founding titan. like oh my god. and other people say āoh he was too attached to reinerā dog thatās the point. of his character. oh my god.
idk i think im just sick of the fandom treating him like this. he and connie are imo the most overlooked characters in the entire animanga.
and donāt even get me started on how shit both him and connie are treated in official arts and stuff bc. wow
S4 Reiner is great.
He's playing celebrity war hero while scrambling to keep his sanity intact with his bare hands. Keeps trying to kill himself but can't follow through because he feels bad for the kids that are competing to eventually cannibalize him. Blatantly picks favorites anyways. Keeps shittalking the people he loved and then attempted to kill. Enemies-to-enemies relationship with all his coworkers. The only guy that could stand him is dead.
Mommy issues. Is 21, looks 40. Might be gay.
What a man.
need my emotional support escapism gays to save me from this dark cruel world
Odysseus: How many suitors are there? Servant: 128. Though, twenty of them formed a guard, after Antinous turned out to be a dick. Odysseus: *Thinking* Servant: Ten are away with the prince, the other ten are keeping guard over Penelope. Odysseus: Why? Servant: They're being bodyguards Odysseus: No, why did they come if they're not seeking the Queen's hand? Servant: Oh, they're trying to convince the Prince to marry their daughters. *Meanwhile* Guard #1: *Watching Telemachus with one of his friends* I'm starting to think the Prince might be swinging the other way. Guard #2: That's alright, I've got a son.
dear bertholdt.
Summary: Reiner left his overcoat in preparation for a meeting and asked Annie to get it from his room. Begrudgingly, she agreed. Though she immediately regrets it when a box of letters falls from the top shelf. Maybe regret isnāt all there is. She found something more.
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CW: angst, canon compliant (so major characters death,, Bertholdt is dead<3), rba centric, can be read as romantic or platonic reibert but reibert nonetheless
Takes place post-timeskip (the second one, post-war), a few years into settling into ambassador life.
Apologies for any ooc, I donāt think Iāve ever written a fic in Annieās perspective/focus,, I also havenāt written on her before and also havenāt written and posted in general for forever
(This was meant to be a comic and is so clear in my mind but I donāt have the time nor talent to execute it š)
Happy Birthday Bertholdt canāt believe ur dead ā„ļø
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Reiner told her to get his coat. What that asshole didnāt tell her was how ridiculously high his coat hangers were. It shouldnāt have loomed over her the way it did. It was almost taunting, mocking her with its impossible height. They had probably raised Reinerās closet bar for his big, hulking self and possibly lowered hers as some sort of unspoken courtesy. Annie sighed deeply, already regretting being here. Sure, tell the short girl to get your big ass coat from your tall ass closet. Embarrassingly, she jumped; she jumped a few times.Ā If a glare could kill, there'd be holes burnt into the pockets.
Fuck off.
The stupid coat was simply out of reach. She could usually manage by grabbing the shoulder and lifting it from there but even then she couldnāt manage. She kicked the closet door in frustration, hard enough to make it rattle, and looked around for reinforcements. Somewhere nearby had to be a stool or something, anything, to make this easier.Ā
She found a tall chair and dragged it over with a bit more force than necessary. The legs scraped against the floor and that sound annoyed her even more.Ā
Finally, she lined it up, climbed up with a huff, and snatched the coat off the hanger in one triumphant, final fuck you. But as she jumped off the chair with her prize, she heard something else fall. A clatter, a shuffle, the distinct sound of things spilling. She grumbled and turned around.
If I have to do one more thing, Iām killing someone.
She cringed when her eyes fell onto the mess. Her jumping and kicking and overall exasperation now had a bunch of shit spilled on the floor from the top shelf of the tall closet. An old box, the size and look of a shoe box, had lost its lid and scattered papers everywhere. She at first started to snatch them up without discretion, just trying to stuff them back in. But a name caught her eyes.
Bertholdt.
Her fingers froze. She didnāt want to snoop. She would have killed anyone who went through her stuff like this. She tried to cast out the memory of seeing the name. She quickly tried to collect them all and put the box, along with this moment, far back into the closet. But there it was again, unmistakable.
Bertholdt.
Something came over her. An overwhelming wave, pulling her under before she could even name it. It felt so sudden, so heavy, all-consuming. She held the pages in her hands, her grip tightening unconsciously.Ā
The small, trembling pool she had collected seemed insignificant against the sheer ocean of papers spilled out before her. They spread across the floor like a map of emotions she wasnāt sure she wanted to navigate. And each one⦠each one bore the same familiar name.
Dear Bertholdt,
Her chest tightened, an ache spreading in places she thought sheād long since numbed. With a breath, she carefully placed them in the box one by one. It blurred past her, the same line repeated over and over. Her eyes couldnāt help but snag on the same arrangement of letters, the same handwriting. There were a hundred, maybe even more, all addressed⦠and dated. She paused.Ā Ā
They had an order.Ā
Written at the top of each of them was a date. Everything was spilled all over the floor and each one was supposed to be neatly tucked away in order. She bit the insides of her cheeks.
Forgive me.
Dates flashed by. She tried to put them in order without reading any of its contents. It felt impossible, especially when there were letters that seemed to be multiple pages long. She tried to group them to the best of her abilities, organizing them by date and putting them in piles face down when she found the correct order. But words blurred past, recognizable phrases, handwriting that got shakier, years and years and years, consistent dating on every one.
āI miss you.ā āIām sorry.ā āIf I could go backā¦ā āI wish you were here.ā āI canāt forgive myself.ā āYou deserved better.ā
Her breath hitched, the edges of the pages almost cutting into her fingers as she clutched them tighter. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, but it only grew heavier with every second she spent kneeling there, surrounded by years of unspoken⦠emotions; emotions she never knew she had.
When did I start crying?
A tear fell from her cheek and nearly hit the precious paper. An aching feeling had creeped into her body. Emotions she never really thought were there seemed to spill. She couldnāt name it. It felt like a sudden burn in her nose, the need to swallow a bitter taste, eyes blurring. She was drowning.Ā
30.12.854
The letter she held was dated shakily at the top. Sheād seen that same date come up again and again. For a moment, she tried to remember if maybe New Years or any holiday around that time meant something to them; as warriors, they didnāt really celebrate holidays, let alone religion.Ā
She took a breath and put it in the 854 pile. She looked at the stack. 854. That would have been⦠that would have been the year of the rumbling. It would have been the year everything changed.Ā
And he never got to see it.
She looked at all of the piles sheād now made, how each represented a year. She tried to push any judgements or perceptions away from her mind. But some years piled higher than others. Three piles in particular. She gathered the final loose letters.Ā
Her mind drifted to her time in the crystal. The silence had been maddening, a suffocating void she couldnāt escape. She had been awake in that void, terrifyingly, agonizingly awake. The only light that had ever pierced through the endless dark had been Arminās voice, Hitchās chatter. Their persistence had saved her, kept her tethered to something beyond the emptiness. But it always puzzled her why they did it in the first place.
I know.
She placed the final letter. The paper felt different; crinkled and messy, rough and smeared. 30.12.850; old, the oldest one. She finally gathered all of them, stacking them neatly away in the box.Ā She stared at the box in front of her, now neatly packed, the letters arranged in quiet, solemn order. The shoebox felt heavier than it had any right to be. There was only paper within it. Something else weighed it down.Ā
I know.
She exited the room quietly, holding the coat tenderly in her hands. She gave it to him when they met in town without a single complaint. She never spoke about what she had found to Reiner or anyone else for that matter.Ā
Their now shared secret lay in a small box that once held shoes for a warrior.