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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 isn’t 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 don’t think I’ve ever written a fic in Annie’s perspective/focus,, I also haven’t written on her before and also haven’t written and posted in general for forever

(This was meant to be a comic and is so clear in my mind but I don’t have the time nor talent to execute it 😔)

Happy Birthday Bertholdt can’t believe ur dead ♥️

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Reiner told her to get his coat. What that asshole didn’t tell her was how ridiculously high his coat hangers were. It shouldn’t have loomed over her the way it did. It was almost taunting, mocking her with its impossible height. They had probably raised Reiner’s 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. 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 couldn’t 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. 

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. 

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, I’m 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 didn’t 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. 

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 wasn’t 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 she’d 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 couldn’t 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.  

They had an order. 

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.

“I miss you.” “I’m sorry.” “If I could go back…” “I wish you were here.” “I can’t forgive myself.” “You deserved better.”

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 couldn’t name it. It felt like a sudden burn in her nose, the need to swallow a bitter taste, eyes blurring. She was drowning. 

30.12.854

The letter she held was dated shakily at the top. She’d 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 didn’t really celebrate holidays, let alone religion. 

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. 

And he never got to see it.

She looked at all of the piles she’d 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. 

Her mind drifted to her time in the crystal. The silence had been maddening, a suffocating void she couldn’t escape. She had been awake in that void, terrifyingly, agonizingly awake. The only light that had ever pierced through the endless dark had been Armin’s voice, Hitch’s 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.  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. 

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. 

Their now shared secret lay in a small box that once held shoes for a warrior.

okay but Jean is the big spoon

he loves being the one to wrap Reiner up in his arms, breathe in the smell he has come to think of as home, comfort

pressing little kisses to the blondes neck till the other is laughing, pulling away with a soft “jean knock it off, your stubble is itchy” which then makes jean bury his face in reiner’s neck, rubbing his cheek against his neck and listening to the laughs spilling past his favorite lips, his boyfriend trying to shove him off, but his long limbs have their advantages

soft nights in bed, under the covers, curled around the back of his love, safe and protected as he listens to the nighttime chatter, reiner’s gentle snores bringing a smile to his face as he kisses his shoulder, caressing the others side as he lets sleep take him

he's like a Disney prince if Disney didn't only give big noses to villians im in love with him btw

Would you recommend Attack on Titan? If so, is there anything one should look out for when watching it?

I see you post/rb posts about it from time to time and I wanted to check it out :>

I totally recommend it! AoT is my favorite anime that helped me get through a rough patch in high school. It has a lot of high action, emotional moments, and crazy plot twists. The characters are amazing, and the soundtrack is absolutely incredible!

You WILL cry.

But fair warning, it is a very heavy show. It deals with the morality of war and has lots of graphic violence and on-screen deaths, including deaths of children. This includes being maimed, tortured, and getting eaten alive.

If you're okay with viewing that, then it's definitely worth a watch! I also recommend sub. Dub is alright, but it feels a lot rawer listening to the original voice actors.

ginga eiyuu densetsu and attack on titan crossover

Do not let them erase this. Do not let them tell you he meant "my heart goes out for you."

This man is the grandson of a Canadian Nazi sympathizer who moved to South Africa BECAUSE he thought the apartheid was just the coolest.

He has a gaggle of kids specifically because he believes his genes are superior and need to be spread to improve humanity.

He has thrown his support behind the neonazi party in Germany and the far right party in the UK, not to mention how far he's wormed up the ass of the Republican party.

He threw two sieg heil salutes back to back at the inauguration of the president of the United States and is trying to scrub the evidence off the internet.

Elon Reeve Musk is a fucking Nazi.

I know it's not just me who thinks Bertholdt is definitely more stronger than Reiner 🤷🏻‍♂️

I feel like he's so much more stronger than Reiner, both mentally and physically, I MEAN COME ON HE'S LITERALLY 6'4 💔, i feel like he just mostly held back alot during training to not attract that much attention on him and also, he's like very shy.

Even Keith Shadis said he has potential but he just lack the aggression and the initiave to make a decision by himself. I truly believe if he wasn't as timid as he was, he would've took the number two spot in the cadet corps 🙏🏻, also he literally was trusted to hold the power of the colossal titan? So i think that speaks for itself 🙂‍↕️

We saw a glimpse of how strong he was in the RTS Arc, where he was left to make all the decision by himself, AND WE CAN SEE HOW STRONG AND SKILLED HE TRULY WAS. He literally DODGED Mikasa's surprise attack from behind AND HE MANAGED TO KICK HER TOO!!! Like he was strong enough to dodge and hurt an ACKERMAN, and he only injured his ear in the process. Even Mikasa was shocked with Bertholdt's strength because she has actually never seen him in his full potential.

I MISS YOU MY GLORIOUSLY KING BERTHOLDT, PLEASE COME BACK HOME 💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😞😞😞😞🙁🙁🙁🙁☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

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