heartknown

kgrb!fuji: summer uniform edition!

not pictured:

irezumi down to bicep (beneath jacket)

double helix piercings in right ear (behind hair)

“When I said let’s take a photo together I did not mean let’s highlight how short I am…”

“Aww, but you’re so cute and ickle and I could eat you right up—nom nom nom!”

“Satori!! You’re messing up my hair.”

“There. All better. Now smile, princess, because I need a new photo for my wallet and I want it to be you… I mean, us.”

“You big softie… I love you.”

“I love you too, my sugar violet.”

Regret momentarily flashes through Reiner’s amber irises at your words—a jolt of electricity—only for them harden in resolution as he steps back alongside Bertholdt. Slate clouds billow across the sky, the wind picking up and whipping the loose tendrils of your hair. Someone pulls you backward to relative safety, away from the impending storm. You watch, numbly, as a crack of blinding lightning strikes the man you have grown to care for—the one you are certain still cares for you.

As quickly as you exhale a shuddering breath, he transforms into the Armored Titan.

Years of memories surge forward, a nostalgic deluge, and you wonder if this is how you will die: at the hands of your first friend in the Cadet Corps. Reiner had helped you master hand-to-hand combat; learn to control your anxiety outside the wall; keep your cool atop an unruly horse. Mere hours ago, at Utgard Castle, he was your shoulder to lean on—even after he was injured—as your superiors were inevitably slaughtered by an unending horde of titans.

Though the clouds linger, the sky doesn’t cry. But you do.

Unbidden, tears roll down your cheeks as your world crashes down around you. The subsequent fight is a blur, and you’re one of the lucky few who isn’t injured during Reiner and Bertholdt’s escape with Ymir and Eren. As confused as you are, as emotionally bruised as you are, you can’t find it in yourself to be angry. Perhaps you are blinded by the past—one that is sugar-coated by affection, tainted by deceit. However, you can’t help but suspect that there’s a compelling reason behind his actions, no matter how misguided.

I could never hate you.

every hopper painting is about stillness. it is found in every brushstroke; at dusk in automat, at dawn in morning sun, at noon in office in a small city, at night in nighthawks.

i have a friend who orbits ideas of power, another who delights in the prosaic and the plain. one weaves around systems and structures, another returns always to wonder at the sea.