#jaegeriin

[massensterben]

@jaegeriin​ liked for a starter!

“—need clearance. I am as good as it’s going to get until Vice Commander Braun and Commander Magath show up.”

A low, rough-hewn voice presses through the metal of the secured cell door. It drives itself in like a nail into a wall. There are muffled comments, attempts at a rejection. But the voice carries on, harsher, sharper, and yet with a strange hollowness to it that betrays a dangerous disinterest in consequences. More arguments, a dull rattling, then the door to captive’s new quarters. Stale morning light filters in through the barred windows and it spills across the tiles, naked and focused. 

The room is largely empty, beyond the few necessities afforded a body that had no permission to die. Bertholdt does not find the setup familiar but the sentiment is almost nostalgic, in that rusty syringe kind of way that pushes into the back of your neck and pumps you full of lead, full of acid. His eyes are sleet, are some distant rainy sky, and they flit from one fixture to another, all to avoid recognizing the body that lies broken in the the bed, pointlessly tied down. 

Bertholdt has never bothered much with prisoners of war. Not for lack of prisoners, or wars. It simply is not his jurisdiction. He’s barely gotten reacquainted with a regular battlefield and then it came knocking on his front door. They are still looking for survivors, or for bodies. Bertholdt stood amid the destruction with a void pounding in his chest where a heart should be and willed it to be anger. The debris was shattered into residential complexes, entire houses leveled, a death toll that keeps climbing. 

And two children among them.

Paradisian devils. There lies the blame, with the evil that’s come from across the sea and destroyed them. Bertholdt cannot bring himself to care greatly for the outrage and the grief that is bellowed from the remaining rooftops. It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? The world will go to war. Against one little island. That was the point. A battle cry is racing around the globe and all missiles are shifting in accordance. Not for the Eldian children that were killed by the attack, not for the families that were torn, the lives that were snuffed out. For principle, for patriotism, for indignation. 

Where are Falco and Gabi? Prisoners in their own right. If they’re lucky. Surely they wouldn’t harm little children, the civilians whisper fearfully. Surely they would, Bertholdt thinks. Everywhere in the world they harm little children. And they won’t feel bad about it either. They’ll say it’s nothing personal and cut the lambs down before they grow into wolves. 

Not to worry. Bertholdt will make it personal. He steps up to the bed and forces himself to look. He’s told himself he only needs a glance, he only needs to know if he knows them, the captured Paradisian. Surely, he doesn’t. Surely.

Sasha.

It’s jarring. It’s arresting. His stomach twists before it drops. Four years ago he’s seen her crash into a rooftop. Did he think she died? Maybe, but he never thought it likely. Bertholdt towers over her sickbed in his Marleyan uniform, the red armband burning like a wound on his bicep, and he knows where his knife lies in wait. Of all the people to sink so low... Animals, one and all. They all should be put down like mad dogs. Him, her, the rest of them. Is he disappointed? Maybe he had hoped for someone he can hate more freely. His fingers slowly curl into a fist at his side. Her eyelids twitch. He watches her pupils move, her breathing hitch.

He’s not allowed to be in here. He doesn’t have time for her to play coy.

“Wake up, Sasha.” Bertholdt says. “Look at me.”

[diripiat-a]

eyes          narrow             ,             tip          of          blade          pointed          in          the           𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠          direction             .                                 ❛❛       𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔          𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢          from          the          deer             ,             nice          'n          slow             .       ❜❜

@jaegeriin​​

[deuscaedo]

@jaegeriin​

           “You really don’t understand, do you?” he muttered, pushing his glasses back into place. the missing lens made him push out a soft sigh — he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, his hand still steaming slightly. most of his fingers were fully formed — one was still visibly made of bone. as he lit his smoke, he turned a cold grey gaze up to the young woman in front of him. “I suppose that’s why you’re asking,” Zeke uttered, flicking through thoughts quickly before leaning forward, resting elbows on the table. “I can’t guarantee it’ll erase any pain, miss...” he paused, raising an eyebrow, waiting for a name. after all, he was almost certainly sure she’d snuck her way into his tiny quarters.

[austerulous-a]

"Annie?" Sasha chirps from the doorway, not daring enough to enter the room uninvited - but she comes bearing gifts, and deliver she shall. A small plate of biscuits in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, she offers her comrade a smile. "Connie and I made this to help us study for tomorrow's exam. I know you don't do study groups, but we thought you might want some." Nobody should prepare to face a Cadet exam on an empty stomach. Not even the tougher cookies of them all, like Annie Leonhardt.

With tomorrow’s exam looming, Annie supposed the least she could do was give her notes a perfunctory read-through.  Not expecting company, she was swamped in a hoodie, her fraying bun even more haphazard than usual, as she sat cross-legged on her bunk, hunched gracelessly over parchment.  The pages were inscribed with her cursive handwriting; delicate, pretty, flowing, so unlike her.

At the sound of her name, Annie’s gaze flicked to the doorway.  It took a moment for her to process Sasha’s words, to understand why she hovered there, smiling brightly.  “Oh,” she breathed after a long pause, staggered by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. A warm, tender, unfamiliar feeling radiated through her chest.  “Sasha, that’s…”  Blue eyes traced the rim of the steaming mug, and the plate of golden-brown biscuits, then landed on the girl’s kind, open face.  

This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

“Thank you.”  The words were softly spoken, and shaped by the small, rare, bewildered smile that played on Annie’s lips.

[diripiat]

                                 [          𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐌          ,          𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓          ]

blood          sprays             ,             forming          a           ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ          ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ          'cross          dirt             .                    bullet          casing          clatters          to          the          floor             ,             the          ping           𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑑          𝑜𝑢𝑡          by          explosions          and          heavy          gunfire             .                     𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙴            /            𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙴            /            𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃             ;                    he          covered          it          all             .                     ˡᵃᶻᵃʳᵘˢ          ᵃʳᵐᵉᵈ          ʷᶤᵗʰ          ʳᶤᶠˡᵉ          ᵃᶰᵈ          ᵏᵘᵏʳᶤ             .                    many          wish          you          had           𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑          in          your          ossuary             .                     𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌             ;                     ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ          ᵗᵒ          ᵗʰᵉ          ʷᵃʳᶻᵒᶰᵉ             ᵎ                    petty          feud          'tween          brothers          had          him          thriving          on          adrenaline          and          his          own          skill             .                    with          parents          who           𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖛𝖊          and          a          sister          unaware             ,             life          was          good             .

at          least             ,             it          was             ,             until          the          aforementioned          sibling          found          herself          in          his          crosshairs             .

body          went          rigid             .                    for          a          few          seconds             ,             𝖙𝖍𝖊          𝖘𝖓𝖎𝖕𝖊𝖗          watches          in          sheer          disbelief          as          she                    (           𝚊𝚗𝚍          𝚊          𝚋𝚘𝚢          𝚑𝚎          𝚠𝚊𝚜          𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛          𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑          )                    ran          in          a          panic             .                    hurricane          of          emotions           ᴄʀᴀsʜᴇᴅ          down             .                     𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛             ,             𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛             ,             𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟             ,             𝑏𝑒𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡             .

                            (                ❛❛       fuck             !       ❜❜               )

snarls          as          rifle          is          slung          over          shoulder             ,             kukri          snatched          up          and          slotted          back          into          sheath             .                     𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎          𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐          under          his          breath          as          he           𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖇𝖘          𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓          from          his          nest             .                     now             ,             lazarus          walks          among          mortal          men             .                    follows          the          sound          of          high          pitched          shriek                    (           𝚠𝚑𝚘          𝚒𝚝          𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍          𝚝𝚘           ,           𝚑𝚎          𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝          𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕          )                    hurries          his          pace          as          he          grasps          firearm             .                    around          the          ridge             ,             ᵃ          ᶠˡᵃˢʰ          ᵒᶠ          ᵇˡᵘᵉ             .                    takes          aim             ,             fires             ,             bullet          piercing          through          the          heart          of           𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦          𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟             ,             bolt          cocked             .

                            ❛❛       𝙼𝙾𝚅𝙴             ,             𝙽𝙾𝚆             !      ❜❜

@jaegeriin​​ & @linderung​​

[lupidentearchive]

             ❝      sasha, i’m telling you this as a 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, you cannot eat that roll.    it’s green.      ❞

▸  @jaegeriin /  𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑐.

[meerkyojin]

                                                          ‘  sasha ! stop moving !   ‘

              𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘, years of practice doing so coming to his aid. thin fingers are currently busy with her hair. soft strands easily twisted in his hold. he’s been doing it since their days in training, so it’s almost second nature to armin by now. he’s just started this braid, however, and if she keeps fidgeting it’s going to be all messed up.

hesitant starter call                @jaegeriin​ !!

[goljath-a]

Hooks dig into Jäger's back, and propel Sasha upwards until she reaches the titan's shoulder, atop which she gracefully lands, like a bird visiting an old friend. Without a word, but facetious grin pulling her lips, she finds a spot of skin on his cheek that is *not* teeth, and plants a quick kiss right there and then. Then, just as quickly as she had come, she leaves, bye Jäger have a good day Jäger.

THE HUNTRESS’ approach is heralded by a mechanical whirring as she takes to the skies / nimbly steering herself ever upwards, spitting pulsing jets of pressurized air into the midmorning quietude ( and abruptly breaking whatever concentration Jäger had been mounting upon the distant tolling of a church bell in the village neighboring Headquarters ). For his part, he hardly even notices the barbed talons dug deep into the meat of his shoulder - though he is sure to turn, albeit unconsciously, away from the angle of her blades / ever mindful of his nape, and The Doctor’s low warning: ( protect it, protect yourself ). Nevertheless, he greets Sasha with a curious tilt of the head, halfway expectant for some kind of explanation. To his knowledge, this early hour of the day was usually reserved an occasion the soldiers simply referred to as “break-fast” - something to do with food and the communal habit of eating together ... which held no significance to a Titan such as himself, but apparently meant a great deal to the humans who participated in it, of which Sasha did avidly and with tremendous vigor. But, regardless, here she is: perched atop a gargantuan form, honeyed eyes gleaming with mischief / the distinct bow of her lips strung taut, almost -- nervous --- ?

... Oh. Jäger can only blink, stupidly, as she pulls away, dropping back to the ground without any further fanfare / the impression of her chaste kiss lost to the numbing heat of his flayed skin. Still, he has the feeling that she’d just done ... something - and in his experience, “something” was usually synonymous with trouble. He quickly rouses himself, cheek twitching / one hand raised haphazardly to his face, rubbing calloused fingertips along the strange, bony contours of his visage, frankly bewildered. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT ?

[massensterben]

@jaegeriin​ said:  24h. 24h of investigation (particularly poorly and loudly conducted) until Mikasa had finally had enough and revealed to Sasha who the cookies gifter was. Quick, Sasha takes advantage of the early hour; almost no one in the mess hall yet, slides onto the bench where Bertholdt is trying to have breakfast, and throws her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you for the cookies!" She chimes with a wide smile and a light blush to her cheeks. "They were delicious. And they're all gone." :^)

Bertholdt is about to stifle a yawn with the back of his hand when he suddenly finds himself clamped in a warm embrace. Sasha’s body thunks into his and together their splaying knees jostle the table. His soft noise of surprise is drowned out by her gratitude humming in his ear. The young soldier stiffens under the onslaught of attention. Oh, she found out, huh?

“It’s nothing, really.” He hurries to dissuade her, though it’s difficult to work up the conviction for it in the face of Sasha’s smiling face. “I just thought... Maybe you’d like them.” He swallows the bite of bread that’s lodged in his throat and coughs. Well, since she’s here now... He didn’t plan for such a direct confrontation but the mess hall is still very empty and he’s not too likely to get teased over it. 

“Actually, I wanted to thank you, too. For the sketchbook? It’s beautiful.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, carefully taken out. He pushes it across the table. “You wanted to see the result, you said. It’s just a sketch but...” 

The pencil sketch he gifts her is one of unusual detail. It reminds of the forests of Wall Maria’s southern districts, mountains looming in the distance. Graphite does not serve to bring nature to life on paper but he made up for it with the attention he pays to flowers, leaves, distant animals peering out of the forest. It seems a window into a different, more idyllic world. He signed his name this time. And below that, he added a small ‘for Sasha’. 

[aendeiousa]

‘ don’t give up yet. you still have time to fix things. ’ (is she alive, is she dead, who knows)

        fix. the words sasha once said play endlessly. like a lullaby she would sing in the night / when the thunder would strike to hard. her nightmares are plenty, but nothing compared to the war she faced today. war shaped hands grip the feathers beneath her, knuckles white with the realization. this was her burden to carry. “ i know, sasha... ”  she muttered as falco turned once more, the sight of the founding, of eren before them. she knows. but the matter of if she could live with it is debatable. 

grave suggestions / light and dark. @jaegeriin

[biggergiants-a]

“Take mine.” (for Connie!)

@jaegeriin

          This is it. This is how he dies - he’s unsure if death by cold is any better than dying at the hands of Titans but he’s about to find out how bad one of those feels. ❝ Eh? ❞ After one of their comrades had suffered an injury, Connie had ended up offering one of his blankets as an extra to keep them warm; he hadn’t expected death to come so swiftly as a payback for his kind action, though. ❝ And what about you?? Think I’ll let you sleep like that in this cold? ❞ He does come closer, however, sitting right next to Sasha and close enough to dive under her blanket. ❝ We can share, though. ❞

[austerulous-a]

7 & 27 ♡

@jaegeriin // 30 uncommon character development questions // accepting

7. How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Generally speaking, Annie’s perception is negative. There is a lot she dislikes and even loathes about herself. She considers herself to be weak, swept up in events, someone too exhausted - too spineless - to even try fighting against the current. Her childhood was spent quietly hoping someone would save her and now, in her adolescence, she understands help will not come. The best she can do is continue on the path laid out for her by her father and her superiors, and be prepared to crush other people under her heels. To put it in Annie’s own words, she’s a self-serving piece of shit.

In a world of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ she views herself firmly as the latter. It has less to do with being a murderer (even after Armin destroys the port at Liberio, she considers him a good person; the same can be said of Bertholdt, despite him having an astronomical body count) and more with who she is at her core. Which is someone wretched, fragile, half-formed; she is self-aware enough to recognise and despise the abnormal, empty spaces within her. Hollowed out as a child, there is little to Annie that is truly, intrinsically ‘her’. Mr. Leonhardt built her, stripping away the parts he had no use for, and using discipline to instil the characteristics that would help make her a Warrior. As such, even traditionally ‘good’ traits like loyalty and compassion are soured within Annie. They are a weakness, and threaten to stand in the way of her promise to her father. A perfect example being her decision to spare Armin during the 57th Exterior Scouting Mission, which later became the rope that hanged her in Stohess.

This isn’t even touching on Annie’s opinions of her physical self. She is uncomfortable in her body and there is a lot about her appearance that she views negatively, but that should probably be a post all of its own.

It isn’t entirely doom and gloom, however. On a good day, Annie thinks of herself in largely neutral terms, and recognises that she did not choose her circumstances. If left to her own devices, she wouldn’t hurt anyone. At least not beyond the occasional harsh word or swift kick to the shin. At heart, she’s just a girl rolling with the punches, trying to find her way home.

27. If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

So I’m of the opinion that Annie’s birth parents are both dead. I still can’t shake the image of her mother going to gallows with her aching, postpartum body, and her father being turned into a mindless titan, doomed to die on Paradis, ajsdhudwb. But if she somehow had an opportunity to speak first and final words to them, they would be: “I had no choice.” No choice in being born, and no choice but to become a monster. At the end of the day, they risked and ultimately gave up their lives to have their daughter. They surely didn’t imagine she would be an inheritor of the Female Titan and an instigator of genocide. Was she worth it? Probably not.

As for Mr. Leonhardt, Annie would struggle to express herself even to him, the man who formed her bedrock. There would be a temptation to say sorry, because death is a failure of sorts, but her father was never one to accept apologies or anything less than excellence. Her need for his approval is a terrible thing, she sorely needs him to truly consider her his daughter and not solely his project. For him, her final words would be: “I did my best. I gave it my all.”

[free-us]

@jaegeriin​​:

“I wish it could always be like this.” (niccolo)

Late night starters  ☠   Accepting

   Their backs pressed against the bark of a tree, the soft breeze gently rocking the leaves above their heads as the occasional sunshine finds its way through the branches and bathes them on its warm sunlight. It’s quiet, and peaceful, and probably the happiest he’s been in years.

   Sasha’s words shake him from a slight slumber, the musical ring of her voice staying in his ears for a moment before Niccolo can focus on the syllables (he loved her voice) so softly spoken. It was, by all standards, a naive wish, which some would say had no room in a soldier’s mouth; but Niccolo was most certainly not one of them, and he can’t help the slightest flutter inside his chest at the very though. Like this, with Sasha, always, forever...

   His mouth opens as though to answer, but only empty air comes out. How to put that into words, when he had barely been able to express her feelings for her before, any existing vocable seeming too lacking to convey the depths of a heart in which she inadvertently had made herself home. No, he would never be able convey all that, but maybe that wasn’t what he needed right now; maybe, sometimes actions spoke more than words.

   And so he acts, his hand twitching a bit on the grass before feeling for hers, intertwining their fingers together in a gentle grip that spoke of hope, wish, and love; and when her face turns towards him, he looks straight into her eyes before leaning forward, brushing her lips with his own ever so slightly as the breeze on the grass. Softly and gently, a wish for a moment they both knew wouldn’t last, but somehow, that’s what made the it so precious.

[meerkyojin]

Armin walks in just as she stuffs something in her pocket. He looks at her. She looks at him. Silence weighs heavy in the room. Slowly, she moves away from the table, and towards the door. Everything is fine. He should know to trust her. Whatever she has in her pocket is perfectly allowed. 100%, most certainly, assuredly, definitely, not bread.

                𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍, now empty, and her pocket. he knows she was holding something when he’d come in. he’d seen her hide it, almost frantically, and he knows what she’s done.  ‘  sasha.  ‘  hands lift up, ready to catch her when she goes to flee.   ‘  what did you put in your pocket just now  ?  ‘  they both know this will only end with him chasing her down until she gives it back - but the façade is okay, for now.

                     ♡                       @jaegeriin   !!

[rcadia]

“ i can tell something’s bothering you. ” (for ymir, if i haven't yet sent anything 🙏 ) @jaegeriin​

BROWS  CREASE  AND  FURROW  AT  THE  ABRUPT  COMMENT,  gaze  shifting  from  the  less  than  interesting  crack  in  the  stone  floor  to  the  fellow  scouts  recruit.  what  exactly  does  she  think  will  come  of  voicing  this  observation?  not  that  its  any  of  her  business  in  the  first  place  what  may  or  may  not  be  bothering  her.  was  this  attempted  compassion,  or  simply  just  another  example  of  sasha  not  knowing  when  to  keep  that  big  mouth  of  hers  shut.  she’d  guess  the  latter.      ❝    i  dont  remember  when  i  asked  for  your  input.    ❞   

[deuscaedo]

all warriors and warriors only get free therap(aths)y sessions with zeke and marcel, says me and @jaegeriin

note: offer not extended if your name is tom ksaver