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To be cast aside and thought of as worthless and meaningless only to then be trained up for someone else’s benefit as a tool then having to deal with people like lowkey I see why she unalived a lot of people- to be pretty too like Annie is a tragic beauty and deserved to have her perspective acknowledged with consideration- Annie was just a girl. She had thoughts, feelings, a brain, her own autonomy and soul….thankfully she got a happy ending but she needs to be thoroughly discussed because there’s too many that refuse to see her outside of her actions regardless if Levi squad and others were decimated- they should’ve just complied like that’s literally their fault- but I could only imagine how much she dissociated during all of what she was doing- her feelings of complexity with her father who really did love Annie but at the same time did he really love her or the perks that came with her being chosen to inherit the female titan (which is so iconic like I could only imagine)- she literally was final girl- then to deal with eren and his crashout behavior to then have mikasa hating ass slice her fingers off the wall and she swore she was her in that moment (which she was)- like it’s too much. My thing with Annie was like why couldn’t she just run away with her titan powers? I love the concept of her cocoon, her safe space like she escaped her 3d and focused on the 4d like queen of manifesting- honestly same like I would’ve gagged so many had that have been me respectfully like- honestly I feel like they could’ve had a convo and things could’ve been different but then the show would lose its depth- but she was a real one honestly and the fact for the time period it was in and I could only imagine the smell- but no my thing is with the writing like regardless of how obvious it was to others that Annie was the female titan, it’s like how can one even fathom that much power- for her to cry while in her titan form says a lot considering what you have to be willing to discard in order to activate your power- but no she deserves better and an actual childhood- for people to think you’re a monster when the only other choice was death and you’re trying to stay alive I mean why can’t people be fair? her having no empathy towards living things is literally what she was faced with- it’s due to her time in Marley as to why she was so cold- no one was real- everyone was in fear for their life 24/7- with people who were people but at the same time don’t see her or her people as human beings- of course she was going to be what we see her through the show as Annie but that’s th thing- others in the show couldn’t see her fully because of their own suffering and also due to them not knowing her fully- she was so stoic like she needs a veterans discount honestly- like even throughout all her suffering her goodness was seen by armin and helped others out and did bond with others genuinely regardless of her motives-
Annie is one of many when it comes to a tragic course but fortunately in her case, she was able to end her story on a soft note-
From her story, Annie and the cage of having a titan power is similar to Ymir’s story but in her case Annie was picked so in a way she was exceptional and smart- but even with all that and her mission and all the woes and whatnot- all she cared about was getting back to her dad- regardless like it’s the feeling of just wanting to be loved and accepted without it being conditional-
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Okay that’s probably the first time anyone has ever typed that but whatever lmao. So something I noticed about Oruo is that (in the dub at least) he quotes Shakespeare “methinks the lady doth protest too much.” (Hamlet), and Tennyson “ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die.” (The Charge of the Light Brigade) which makes sense for the timeline considering its well after they wrote. But obviously that makes no sense because the king wiped their memories, so why does he know these quotes And the context of them?
My theory is that Oruo is an Ackerman OR an adjacent bloodline that is immune to the kings control. He has some connection to Levi as he tries to imitate him, and his physical abilities are impressive as well considering he has the highest kill count of Levi squad (excluding Levi himself).
Idk tho I just thought this was funny loll, I might add to this if I ever feel like it
why haven't I seen a headcanon of Levi with his CANONICAL height and a medium-sized girl (170 cm)? I want to see him having to climb her like a tree every time, which obviously annoys him but he loves her so he's willing to put up with it.
The lantern on Levi’s desk burned low, its flame unsteady, throwing soft gold light across the cramped office. Dust motes hung in the air, illuminated between towering stacks of reports, supply logs, and half-forgotten teacups gone cold hours ago. Headquarters had settled into its nightly hush. Boots no longer echoed in the halls. Doors had long since shut.
Only the two of you remained.
You had stayed behind without being asked. Again. Part obligation, part habit, part something neither of you had ever named. Levi didn’t comment on it anymore. He simply slid another folder toward you, grunted when you finished, and kept working.
He sat rigid at his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms taut as he signed his name with sharp, efficient strokes. Ink stained the tips of his fingers. You stood nearby, sorting documents, pretending not to notice the way his eyes flicked up every so often. Not lingering. Not obvious. Just aware.
“You’re done for the night,” he said suddenly, not looking up.
You paused. “There’s still—”
“Sit,” he cut in, voice calm but final. “You’ve been standing too long.”
You hesitated, then moved closer, perching on the edge of the desk beside him. The wood was cool beneath your palms. He finished the line he was signing, set the pen down with precision.
Then his hand was on your thigh.
Firm. Intentional. No hesitation.
Your breath stuttered.
Slowly, Levi lifted his gaze to yours. There was no teasing in it. No softness. Just that sharp, focused intensity that always made your stomach twist.
“You’ve been distracting me all night,” he said quietly, thumb pressing into the muscle above your knee, tracing a slow, deliberate circle. “Staring when you think I don’t notice.”
Heat crept up your neck. “I—Captain—”
“Levi,” he corrected, voice lower now. Closer. His grip tightened just slightly. “Say it.”
“Levi.”
Something in his expression shifted. Darkened.
In one smooth motion, he stood, chair scraping back softly as he crowded into your space. You had to tilt your head up to keep eye contact as he braced one hand on the desk beside your hip, the other sliding to the back of your neck, fingers firm, grounding.
He kissed you like he fought. Precise. Controlled. Overwhelming.
His lips were firm, demanding, parting yours with ease. You gasped softly into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, tongue stroking against yours until your fingers curled into his shirt.
When he pulled back just enough to speak, his breath brushed your lips.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough now, “and I will.”
You didn’t.
Instead, you tugged him closer by his cravat, and he made a low sound in his throat. Approval. Hunger. His hands were on you in seconds, lifting you fully onto the desk, papers scattering to the floor without a care. Your legs parted instinctively as he stepped between them, pressing close enough for you to feel exactly how much he wanted this.
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He kissed down your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing just hard enough to make you shiver. One hand slipped beneath your shirt, calloused fingers dragging over your skin until they found the clasp of your bra. He undid it with frustrating ease.
“Too many damn layers,” he muttered against your collarbone, pushing fabric aside to mouth at your breast. You arched into him with a soft moan, fingers threading through his undercut, gripping the longer strands on top.
He didn’t rush. Every touch was deliberate—teasing your nipple with his tongue until you were trembling, then soothing it with slow licks. His other hand worked your belt open, sliding inside your pants with unerring accuracy.
You gasped his name when his fingers found you already wet, stroking through your folds with that same controlled precision he applied to everything.
“Look at you,” he breathed, voice low and dark. “So ready for me.”
He circled your clit slowly, watching your face like he was memorizing every reaction. When you rocked against his hand, desperate for more, he pressed a finger inside you—then two—curling them just right.
Your head fell back, thighs shaking around his hips.
“Quiet,” he warned softly, though his own breathing was ragged now. “Unless you want the whole barracks to hear how I’m taking you apart on my desk.”
The thought only made you clench harder around his fingers.
He worked you relentlessly, thumb on your clit, fingers thrusting deep, until you were biting your lip to stay silent, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your core.
“Come for me,” he ordered against your ear, voice like gravel.
You did—hard—muffling your cry against his shoulder as your body pulsed around him.
He didn’t give you time to recover. While you were still trembling, he withdrew his hand, unfastened his own trousers, and pulled you to the edge of the desk. The blunt heat of him pressed against your entrance, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.
He pushed in slowly, eyes locked on yours, letting you feel every inch. A low groan escaped him when he bottomed out—something rare and raw from the normally stoic captain.
Then he started moving.
Controlled at first, deep thrusts that dragged over every sensitive spot inside you. But the longer he watched you fall apart beneath him, the less restrained he became. His grip on your hips tightened, pace quickening until the desk creaked beneath you and your back arched off the wood.
One of his hands tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to expose your throat so he could bite and suck marks into your skin.
“Mine,” he growled against your neck, thrusts turning harder, deeper. “You’re mine.”
You could only whimper in agreement, nails digging into his back as another orgasm built fast and fierce.
He felt it—you clenching around him—and drove into you with a final few punishing strokes before you came again, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you.
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For a long moment, neither of you moved.
The lantern flickered. Somewhere down the hall, a floorboard creaked. Levi stayed where he was, breathing evening out slowly, one hand firm at your waist as if making sure you were still there. Still real.
When he finally shifted, it was only to rest his forehead against yours. His grip softened. His thumb brushed along your jaw, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a care that felt almost startling after everything else.
“You’re staying in my room tonight,” he said quietly. Not a question.
You smiled, still hazy, pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Yes, Captain.”
That faint, rare smirk curved his mouth. “Levi.”
He kissed you again. Slower this time. Unhurried. Like the war, the paperwork, the world outside that office could wait.
And for the rest of the night, it did.
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Gang im aroace….YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT DAMN SMUT TOOK ME i was in shambles
