#jean kirstein wallpaper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dwchtjiminah · 11 months

Text

Attack On Titan HD Wallpapers

#attack on titan #ShingekiNoKyojin #Mikasa Ackerman #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #Connie Springer #Levi Ackerman #Armin Alert #The Colossal Titan #Ymir Fritz #attack on titan wallpaper #attack on titan lockscreen #anime wallpapers #anime lockscreens #shingeki no kyojin lockscreen #shingeki no kyojin wallpaper #wallpapers #lockscreens #shingeki no kyojin

733 notes · View notes

sleepy-sham · 3 months

Text

jean wallpaper🧡💙🤍

more aot wallpapers

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot wallpaper #aot edit #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean wallpaper #aot jean #jean aot

21 notes · View notes

raven-eruri · 2 years

Text

Levi’s smile is frozen in time, forever laced with grief and sorrow.

Much like this place, he thinks gloomily as he enters the small Bed and Breakfast on Kirstein Street, a bell jingling as he pushes the heavy wooden door. The house, clean and quiet, smells like cinnamon and apples. The landlady emerges from the kitchen, wiping her flour-covered hand on her apron. She greets him cheerfully, producing a small pair of thin round glasses from her pocket as she registers his name in the big leather-bound guest’s book on the counter.

“Ackerman, you said?”

“Yes. Levi.”

“That’s not a common name around here,” she remarks idly.

“I’m not from here.”

Levi takes in his surroundings, half-listening to her perky chatter. Everything about the house screams old-fashioned, from the floral wallpaper to the gleaming, spotless hardwood floors. As he scans the room, his eyes fall upon the portrait of a middle-aged man hanging proudly above the fireplace’s mantle. He looks about forty, standing proud and at attention, his right fist curled up on his chest, above his heart, inches away from an elegant bolo tie nestled in the collar of his green military coat. Marleyan soldiers wear grey, not green, and rank is shown by stripes on their shoulder pads, not stones around their necks.

“Who’s that?” Levi asks, a bit curious.

“Hum?” she raises her head, follows his gaze. “Oh, that’s Jean Kirstein, the 16th Commander of the Survey Corps. Great man. He was the officer responsible for brokering the peace treaty that ended the war in 864, after the bombings and the second Marleyan Offensive on Paradis,” she explains. “He was a distant relative of my husband.”

Levi nods. Other portraits are scattered around the room, showing more people in old military uniforms, posing with the same proud salute that was the habit of the old Army. Offering their hearts, if Levi recalls his history lessons correctly. On the right, Levi spots a smaller portrait of a boy with golden hair, a resolute and determined expression painted on his face. There’s a harshness to him, something hollow in how his eyes are fixed in front of him — like he’s looking at something beyond the painter, something only he can see. This is not the kind of expression Levi would have expected to see in someone so young, he thinks as he averts his eyes, uncomfortable. A bit further from the boy’s painting, above the couch, is a small round miniature of a messy brown hair soldier, one eye covered with an eye patch, the other eye piercing and tired. It doesn’t look much like the other paintings — it’s more of a sketch, really, but the lines are sharp and manage to capture the image of the soldier, freezing it in time. It makes Levi feel uneasy, somehow. The portraits are another reminder of the ghosts inhabiting this place, casting an old, eternal shadow over the otherwise warm room.

Levi can’t wait to get away from this place.

“Those are more portraits of the Survey Corps Commanders,” the landlady says upon noticing where his gaze has landed. “This is Armin Arlert,” she points to the young boy with the deep blue eyes, “he became Commander during the Rumbling, after the previous one, Hange Zoë,” she motions to the other portrait above the couch, “sacrificed their life to allow their comrades to escape the island."

Levi gives her a polite smile, turning back to the counter, eager to escape the weight of the dead commanders’ gazes.

"My late husband, may he rest in peace, harboured a bit of an obsession for history and all that related to the Jaegerist Insurrection and the Rumbling War. He had the greatest collection of books and writings about that time on all the island. When he passed away, I donated everything to the Sina National Archives, but I didn’t have the heart to get rid of the decoration.”

Levi nods again, uncomfortable.

“Are you interested in history, dear?” she asks.

Levi fumbles, trying not to show his annoyance at being called dear. “No. Not really.” He picks up his suitcase as she motions for him to follow her up the stairs. “I thought —” he falters. “I thought this was frowned upon?”

“Oh,” she lets out a small humph, condescending. “It used to be, yes. But it’s been over a hundred years now. We Eldian folks remember, of course. But Marley doesn’t care for it so much anymore.” She says that in a strange tone. The words are spoken lightly, but they carry a weight that takes Levi by surprise.

She breathes through her nose, curious. “Is it your first time in Paradis, dear?”

“Hum, no,” Levi coughs. “I was born here."

She stops midway up the stairs, raising an eyebrow. "Are you visiting family, perhaps? How lovely.”

“I’m here for a funeral, actually."

Her face falls upon hearing that, curiosity slowly replaced by sympathy. She lays a hand on his forearm, patting his biceps. "How dreadful. I’m so sorry to hear that. You have my condolences.” She studies his face for a bit longer than Levi feels comfortable being watched, so he casually snaps his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes and motioning to the door on top of the stairs.

“Thank you. Your brochure said the rooms were equipped with a private bathroom?"

"All of them! We take great care of our guests here; don’t you worry about that."

She unlocks the door, and they step into a small and plain but cosy guest room. The walls are bare of paintings or portraits, which Levi is thankful for. A double bed sits in the middle of the room, made of sturdy oak wood that matches the rest of the furniture. The quilt lying on top of the bed looks handmade, just like the lace doilies sitting under the lamps on the bedside cabinets framing the mattress on both sides. He takes a few steps into the room, setting his suitcase next to the dresser.

"Breakfast is served from 7 to 9 am. The rooms are cleaned daily, so we’ll ask that you vacate the room for at least an hour each morning. How long will you be staying with us?”

“Only a few days, hopefully,” he responds. He doesn’t plan to spend a minute more in this place than necessary. He’s been here for merely two hours, and already he’s feeling his old self sliding back into place, replacing everything he worked so hard to rebuild. To heal.

He thanks the landlady several times, each one more strained than the previous one, before she finally takes the hint and leaves the room — and when the door closes behind her with a light click and silence fills the room, he finally allows himself to breathe.

Deeply, eyes closed. Inhale, exhale. Once, twice, a third for good measure, until he feels his nerves relaxing and his heartbeat settling down.

He doesn’t have time to get distracted or overwhelmed by uneasy memories.

He’s here for one task, and one task only.

In forty-eight hours — seventy-two at most — he’ll be back on the boat, returning to his life, job, and Isabel. He’ll leave the island and never set foot there again.

Dragonfly in Amber | Chapter 1

#eruri #eruri fic #eruri fanfic #erwin x levi #levi ackerman #erwin smith #shingeki no kyoujin #this is an Outlander inspired AU #ackerbond #eruri au

20 notes · View notes

decimejean · 3 years

Text