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[sassy-gay-ymir]

Elegy | | colossaldreamboat

Silence.  Something as peaceful and content should of been enough to calm her, but it was deafening.  No, she couldn’t stand another second of this god damned silence.  This was hardly the time for erratic noise, but the quiet-it was driving her mad.  Ymir opened her eyes to the starless night sky above-telling.  Here she was given another sign of misery, she couldn’t stick around much longer.  Whoever the other two titan shifters were working for … …well she was positive they would not welcome her with open arms .

  Here, was the only placed she belonged at the moment, here was safe passage.  Safe, being the lesser of two prominent evils. Outside the walls was bad enough, but inside…inside was hell.  So if she couldn’t stay with the other shifters, or within the walls, her options were to run or die.  Either one sounded refreshing.  Ymir let out a single sigh before turning on her side, spotting a fast asleep blond, seemingly unfazed.  She scoffed.  What a joke. 

Looking passed Reiner, she attempted to take a look at the other's face, only to realize he was missing.  And a sudden smirk adorned her features, Ymir didn’t have to think very hard about where he might be.  In a fluid motion she stood, and for once, was lulled by the silence in the air.  She easily got passed the slumbering ‘warrior’ without any form of effort what so ever.  The imprints of his boots lead her exactly the way she needed to go; they were just making it way too easy.  Within the same minute, the path she was following shaped into more of mountainous terrain, with a rocky shore and a simple waterfall.  She had been away from this far too long. Even when her memories were lost and scattered, she could at least reminisce about the outside's un-gilded beauty.

Ymir soon saw the same boy she went chasing after.  Leaning her back to a rock, she announced her presence.  “Getting some fresh air?”  Probably the obvious answer.  “You know, you could at least try to cover your tracks. God forbid Reiner finds you out here.”  She teased with a venomous tone.  Although, she was willing to bet that he didn’t much care to hide away at this point.  She relaxed her shoulders as her lips formed a thin line.  “Hey,”  The brunette called. “Why are you out here?” Why was she out here?  “Figure’d you would be all tuckered out by this time of night, but…” She approached the taller male.  “Something’s on your mind.”

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

An utterance of the absolute truth to all things, beings, and persons. If any all mighty omniscient god governed this world, they must of seen this wretched place through some sick amusement. Every damn person on the planet had a secret to keep, and it may have even fooled them.

Viewing this place with rose-colored glasses was not only wishful, but ignorant.  If someone was ever turned here-this prison- they were indisputably guilty from birth. No trial by jury, it was nature playing its cruel joke. Though, no one seemed to follow, no one seemed to get it. Ymir smirked to herself looking around at all the hollowed faces.

Innocent!

They plead desperately, unaware of their own sick head on their own sick shoulders. She took a drag from the cigarette held so loosely betwixt her fingers.  Honestly, their denial was the highest form of entertainment she got here. No matter what atrocities they committed, they would fabricate an alibi- a plea of defense- and fool themselves into thinking it was the truth. Laughable, lying to other people was one thing, lying to their own self was another. To think someone could be so self-loathing to put on a persona of something they were not.

The brunette exhaled, letting the burn of smoke filter out of her lungs and mouth.  Now Ymir was never one lie about anything, some would say she was particularly brutal  in her honesty. Like her trial that opened the gates of this filthy mental facility to her, much to everyone's shock she plead

"Guilty."

She only offered the judge and jury a crooked grin with her glazed over amber eyes. What was the point in pretending she wasn't responsible for her own handiwork? Why let some other schmuck take the credit of what she destroyed. What she consumed.

"Yes your honor, I atehim." She chirped with a growing half smile and a twisted low chuckle. Apparently, that trial became a tabloid sensation, as if these people could never believe it happened. The popularity of the case only strengthened her philosophy. The daily, mundane lives of the average person was much too bland, no they needed excitement- horror.  They needed hatred, disgust, the monster under the bed.

They wanted to hear about how she ripped open a total stranger and-well- did the unthinkable. Even when they asked her why, for what purpose and satisfaction this could of given her, she simply shrugged. The actions she made didn't make any sense to her either, but she couldn't pretend that she was not accountable for it. If she had done this horrid act, then so be it.

It was as if this run down place beckoned to her all along, and who was she to deny it's warm welcome? Accepting somewhere she truly belonged with open arms, diving right into the gory madness of herself and others.  Insanity was glorious, without it she would be conforming to the same regulated lives of all of these regulated people. And she'd be lying through her teeth, as everyone else did.

The hideous truth of all truths was a shining beauty in her eyes, the devil in the details was god among a sea brainless apes, and only that truth would ever set them free. But the truth wasn't a thing that could be effortlessly accepted, it was a thing that people cowered from. Truth was grotesque, a plastic lie was beauty.

The 'normal' functioning humans didn't quite have their priorities in line.

She scoffed upon seeing the new additions to this jail. Right off the bat, every face was just too simple to read. They wore their whole life story on their body and it was not subtle in any aspect of the word. They belonged here, just as she did, just as she always did. Oh, and she was counting on all of them having a difference in a opinion with her. Of course, why strike up a conversation with a one-track minded idiot, shouting about their evident sanity and innocence.

The muddled splendor of these conflicted souls was just too much. Everyone of them, liars, cheats, murderers. And the mere insistence of them, they were all the same... However, one did stand out from the influx of arrivals, a small blonde girl. Ymir looked up to meet her gaze. From her porcelain features and soft cadence, she didn't appear to belong here.

But that was the whole point.

Her decision to pull up a seat beside the brunette was a curious choice, but she presented the new face with another smirk, before putting out her cigarette. 

" Now what do we have here? Wouldn't of guessed a girl like you would so much as speak to someone like me, but to be in a place like this...must have one hell of a story."

✑ ғʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴅɪsᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ. | | sᴀssʏ-ɢᴀʏ-ʏᴍɪʀ.

— The atmosphere was explicitly foreign.

It was foreign, and it was cold. Places like these were perpetually cold. It seemed that the chill took a liking to places like these, to places with people with mere fragments of their minds left and people that were believed to only have fragments of their minds left - so intense was the liking that it had claimed all of these places, taken it for its own, absolutely ravaging them until they were eternally cold places and the cold could not be altered. Warmth was not welcome here. There was only the forbidding cold.

Then again, maybe that was a little too abstract. There was always the chance that she just happened to be sitting in an area where there happened to be a bit of a draft. She could easily move from this seat, she could easily leave this red armchair that was much too stiff anyway and retreat somewhere else. Across the room there was another armchair, an olive green one, and the only person close enough to it to maybe try to strike up a conversation with her seemed sane enough: a boy with mussed brown hair, whose face she couldn’t make out from here, considering that he was looking away from her.

(Ah, but then - Christa was fairly certain that on the outside, she looked fairly sane, as well, and yet she had been deemed not sane.)

Christa Lenz was a pleasant girl. She talked to people. She smiled. She nodded in response to things that people said and she offered words of consolation or advice or whatever it was that the person required. But Christa Lenz had been shoved into a place for lunatics by her father, and she hadn’t anticipated this when she had done what she done because she wasn’t trying to kill herself she wasn’t she wasn’t she wasn’t—

Sometimes even the best of people must take time to stop and breath and process the situation.

The markers that could be used to track the important parts of her entire life, the happenings that had shaped her and molded her: they were a series of lows. And there were a good amount, enough for a handful at least.

Today would have to be marked as a low.

A desire to end her life. No motivation to live. Cannot predict to what lengths she will go to next time. Best to leave her in a place where her needs can be tended to.

All she could recall were mere wisps of what the tall man that called himself a doctor had said, and then her father had taken her home and she had chosen a few articles of clothing and that was all she was allowed to have and now she was here. She assumed that later this realization would hit her. There was a chance that she would grow frustrated when the full impact of this situation hit her.

She was fine. She was absolutely fine, and when she looked around at the other patients that were strewn about the room, the idea that she belonged here was unfathomable. Granted, it was hardly as if all the other patients were visibly ill. The common area was sizable, and Christa had chosen the emptiest area to take refuge in. From here, she did not have the best view. Some looked normal; several feet away, there was a girl with dark, shoulder-length hair and a red scarf that was staring blankly ahead not with the empty eyes that so many of the people here had greeted her with when she had been led into this area and told to sit somewhere but with an expression that read bored. Maybe this other girl had been misinterpreted, just as Christa was convinced that she herself had been. Just maybe…

She sighed. No…

What could she do?

Normally, she was relatively okay with not doing anything at all if that was what was required of her. Waiting for her father to emerge from buildings thats utilization was unknown to her was one of those times; when her late stepmother had had company over and she expected Christa to sit quietly at the table while the adults discussed Very Important Subject Matters, even if she had completed the consumption of her meal already. Yet here, she had the itching to stand and do something even if it was a simple few steps to the table placed a few feet away from her and then back to this armchair.

It was this atmosphere.

How much longer do I have until I’m allowed out of this room…?

A woman was rubbing her hands against the walls, and she passed in front of Christa, leaning over her and the armchair to run her hands across the gray wall, and then continued on her way. Christa chose not to think much of this.

This was her life now.

The white wool sweater that she had chosen to come in was scratchy but at least it protected her from the draft, although her hands were becoming more and more like ice the longer she sat here. She longed to be allowed to go to her room - it was more like a cell, calling it a room was sugarcoating what it really was to an unbelievable extreme - but at least she’d be alone.

It was becoming impossible to stay like this. Finally, she stood, and a wave of relief came over her when it became apparent that she had not attracted any stares. Her next move? Christa contemplated this. There were three tables. The one nearest to the door she had come in through had but one resident: a girl with a dusting of freckles on her tan face, and dark brown hair gathered into a ponytail. It was reasonable to make the assumption that once it was at last time to retreat to her cell, it would be that door that she would have to go through. Staying close to it was best, if she wanted to get out as soon as possible. With extreme caution, she began her treacherous trek across the room. Empty eyes and questioning eyes alike looked at her and she smiled, because nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong….

She reached the table and there was another wave of relief. She was okay. She was fine. She was here, but she was fine. Avoiding looking at the other female just in case she was one of the patients that was truly out of her mind, she pulled a wooden chair out and took the seat, clasping her hands together and placing them before her, setting them on the chipped wood.

She was there for a minute before the habits that she had built for herself kicked in. So she coughed, clearing her throat of an imaginary block, and looked up at the other patient.

"Hello."

[sassy-gay-ymir]

reblog with your mun fc

[sassy-gay-ymir]

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ユミクリ by あくあ

[sassy-gay-ymir]

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Put 'Obey Me' in my ask, followed by a command and my character will have to do it!

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Reblog with 3 of your favorite reaction pictures of your muse

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Ymir jutted her head toward the dark haired boy, at a speed that was too 'unnatural' for any normal human being. The now bald girl glared at him with vengeance brewing inside the pit of her gut. No, she couldn't be sure if this was bastard that shaved her tangle of light umber hair into non-existence. But he was the only one there, and she needed something to punch, and or yell at. "You." She growled at the seemingly Innocent boy. "Bet'cha you think this is just hilarious, huh freckles?" This dough boy was just so, not guilty. "So its time to fess up, were you the asswipe that thought it be funny to shave off all my hair, eh? well were you?"

It is a quiet evening, all deep in sleep when suddenly.... BZZZZZZZT. There is the unmistakable sound of a shaver, ridding the brunette of what precious hair she has in a single instant --- and before anything can be done, footsteps make a mad dash away as the sound of mysterious and sinister cackling echoes into the night.

A shriek is heard in the early hours of the morning. Not for the purpose of a plea for help, but a warning siren for the poor fool who had the balls to commit such an atrocity. With a face burning bright red and eyes filled to the brim with hatred, Ymir clenches her teeth before yelling. “ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU COMEDIANS IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!?”

[sassy-gay-ymir]

"Hello Ymir! How are you today?"

"Well if it isn't itty bitty christi-and how thoughtful of her, asking me how my day was! How adorable."Ymir snickers as she pinches the blonde's cheek.

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Sasha ran over to Ymir, waving her hand in the air. "Ymir, Ymir. Guess what? I have undeniable, indisputable proof that Krista's in love with you!" she yelled. She stood in front o her with a smile on her face. "I asked her how she feels about you, and she told me to shut up! She was blushing and everything." Sasha stated. She took a piece of bread in her hand and put it to her lips, then she ripped a small bite off and began to eat it.

Ymir's face suddenly flushed dark crimson. Sasha did have quite an imagination on her, she couldn't be too sure that the eccentric brunette was actually right. But...The possibility still existed.The freckled girl almost squealed in delight. Except squealing was totally lame and for babies.She would play it cool, as always.Ymir scoffed."I figured she'd fall for me sooner or later."Oh lord, she really wanted to squeal.

[sassy-gay-ymir]

[sassy-gay-ymir]

ughhhh ymir looks so hot in a suit she could be a model

[sassy-gay-ymir]

"Wait...it must be like- a really fucking good apple. So you think I'm...a really fucking good apple? Uh, I guess I'm flattered?"

"If you were a fruit, you'd be a FINEapple."

"…The hell is a fineapple?"

[sassy-gay-ymir]

"Oh? What makes you think I'd tell? Assuming I knew anything that'd be of any actual use...In any case, I guess a thank you is in order... Nahhh, like hell I'd give one to you."

"A lot less smart in that ass would be greatly appreciated. And so what if I am? Why would you care?”

[sassy-gay-ymir]

Presumptuous of him, that was for sure. She'd argue with him to reclaim this spot as her own, and her's only, yet the effort it might take drained her motivation. He could stay, but only for today. Honestly, she could be so generous at times. A good send for the brunet casually lounging beside her. So he actually remembered her name? How touching. "Yeah, and you're..." she paused thinking back, "...Marcelle." Ymir spoke it as if she was actually correct about her statement. Which, she was almost twenty percent sure she was. "Anyway, you can stay if you really want. Just don't interrupt my concentration, got it?" Although, there really wasn't much to concentrate on. But he didn't need to know that.

[sassy-gay-ymir]

It is a quiet evening, all deep in sleep when suddenly.... BZZZZZZZT. There is the unmistakable sound of a shaver, ridding the brunette of what precious hair she has in a single instant --- and before anything can be done, footsteps make a mad dash away as the sound of mysterious and sinister cackling echoes into the night.

A shriek is heard in the early hours of the morning. Not for the purpose of a plea for help, but a warning siren for the poor fool who had the balls to commit such an atrocity. With a face burning bright red and eyes filled to the brim with hatred, Ymir clenches her teeth before yelling. "ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU COMEDIANS IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!?"