i especially love him fiddling with the magnifying because of my headcanon of him always needing to do something with his hands whether that be cooking or smoking or generally fiddling with one object or another, his hands are never still and he is always moving
Heyhey. Sorry for my inactivity. You can find me on Twitter @ fernalicious325. You can also now follow me and commission me on vgen at vgen.co/fernalicious325 . Currently available are sketch commissions starting at $15. I need to make some emergency money before I go before I go abroad on a trip to japan, so support would be much appreciated. Thank you in advance!
post war!mikasa ackerman headcanons ╱ angst with comfort, grieving ˚.✦
post war!mikasa ackerman who spends the first months after the rumbling living alone before realizing that she can't. Her pain and grief is too unbearable to be alone, her mind goes fast to places it shouldn't go and it feels like her loneliness is killing her from inside out.
post war!mikasa ackerman who practically begs you to live with her, to share a nice cottage close to the river, with a big forest and good ground to harvest.
post war!mikasa ackerman who cries when you tell her that she didn't need to beg and that you'll move in with her that very night. You don't have much belongings so everything fits in a suitcase that Mikasa insists on carrying.
post war!mikasa ackerman whose house isn't dirty or unorganized, but you can see the grief and sadness in its walls. Paintings and shelves with dust, the garden unattended and barely any food in the kitchen. You don't mention anything, you leave your things in your room and wait until tomorrow when she leaves to run some errands.
post war!mikasa ackerman who arrives a few hours later, the house cleaner and smelling better than ever, everything feels cleaner and easier to breath. "How do I thank you?" she tells you, leaving the bags of food and drinks by the kitchen door. "Please tell me." You smile sweetly, grabbing one of her hands and pushing the kitchen door open. "Let's cook together."
post war!mikasa ackerman who helps you like she can, she's never been a good cook but you teach her how to cut carrots correctly and how to crack an egg without the shell falling into the mixture.
post war!mikasa ackerman who sees the little smile on your face and doesn't understand how you are the same woman you fought beside her on the rumbling, how you were there too and you didn't relive it every night.
post war!mikasa ackerman who's been trying to be quieter during nights, she doesn't want to scare you with her nightmares or crying. She wants you to be at peace so she can be too.
post war!mikasa ackerman who, the first time you slip into her room and sit on the edge of her bed without a word, she freezes. But you just stay there, humming an old melody from your childhood days until her breathing evens out. She doesn't thank you out loud.
post war!mikasa ackerman who starts leaving little things for you in return. A perfectly sharpened knife on the counter, fresh flowers from the forest placed in a jar by your window, her own blanket draped over your chair when the evenings get cold. She never makes a big deal of it. It's her quiet way of saying stay.
post war!mikasa ackerman who begins to smile more when you two work in the garden together. Her hands are still the strongest you've ever seen, but now they move gently through the soil, planting vegetables. You catch her watching you sometimes when she thinks you're not looking, a soft confusion in her face because she can't figure out why your presence makes the heavy ache in her chest feel a little lighter.
post war!mikasa ackerman who tells you about Eren one rainy afternoon while you're both drying dishes. Her voice cracks only once. she doesn't cry, but her fingers tremble around the plate. You listen without trying to fix it, nodding and saying "I know" when the silence stretches too long. After that day, she starts seeking you out more, sitting closer on the porch swing, her shoulder brushing yours as the sun sets over the river.
post war!mikasa ackerman who realizes one quiet evening that she has been waiting for your footsteps every time you leave the house. The cottage feels too empty without you now. She watches you laugh at something silly she said (a rare comment that she didn't even realized it was funny) and feels her heart do a painful flip. It's not the fierce love she once knew. This one is gentler, scarier in its own way.
post war!mikasa ackerman who still has bad days where the grief sits on her heavy, but now she lets you pull her into a hug instead of pulling away. Your arms around her feel safe. she buries her face in your shoulder and breathes you in, the scent of fresh bread and home. She doesn't say i love you yet. The words feel too big, too soon. But she holds you a little tighter each time, hoping you understand what she can't voice.
post war!mikasa ackerman who falls asleep on your lap one night after a particularly hard day, her hair spilling across your thighs as the fire crackles softly. You stroke her head carefully, heart aching with both sadness and warmth. She looks peaceful like this, the lines of constant pain smoothed out. There will be more nightmares, more heavy silences, more bittersweet memories of a boy she loved and lost. But in this small cottage by the river, with the forest whispering outside, she's starting to believe she can carry it all without breaking. Maybe she can even learn to love again.
a/n: mikasa ackerman you're so dear to me<3
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