Guess what? We’re about a month away until the AOT ending turns five years old! While I am planning to write a breakdown on why it isn’t as great as I previously thought back then, I wanna quickly go over on three things I do still like about it:
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1.) I’m half-and-half with Eren’s little breakdown here. For one, for the first time in forever does he behave like the old honest Eren he used to be. But in the other hand, does sound selfish for not wanting Mikasa to move on from him. Either way, it’s just personally satisfying to see him express emotions for a change.
2.) What’s also satisfying despite the context is seeing Historia with her daughter. Yes, the pregnancy did sideline her character and started some wars between certain fans, but you can’t deny that Historia being a more caring mother than her own ever was brings joy.
3.) I kinda like the idea of the surviving scouts and warriors becoming ambassadors in the end; still a bit skeptical on the latter being a part of it, but it had been three years so they probably had a lot of talking. I honestly can’t think of any other outcome for them while the world is still in little shambles, just live normal lives away from the conflict? Yeah right.
Despite the amount of times I had drawn him, I still don’t fully get him. It could be that I’m too dumb or too much of a casual fan for deep analysis, but AOT has failed to conclude his character for me.
To me Eren is a deeply traumatized individual who failed to mature. He’s a self-righteous man child. But there’s also some ancient evil yadayada messing with his head that isayama couldn’t clear up it up for me, so at this point I still don’t know why eren committed rumbling.
Interestingly, this shows in my art HAHA.
Most of my eremin art is seen from armin’s POV, eren remains either a mystery or partially seen. Eren from Armin’s POV works better in my drawings bc he’s an incomplete character, a huge mystery even, he makes no sense to me sometimes, but above all he’s a symbol of doom and rage.
(“POV” is rather vague in illustrations esp when a lot of them can be objective. To me POV applies when the drawing leans toward one character’s bias, feelings, and how they see things.)
Here’s an example of Eren from Armin’s POV:
Altho one thing I understand for sure is his relationship with armin, the way he idolizes and adores him, putting him on the pedestrian (and doom him in the process)
When I watched the final episode, I was so overcome by emotion watching Levi’s final salute that I didn’t really notice how much Historia’s monologue / letter had changed from the manga. I had a vague notion it was slightly different but I hadn’t realised just how much it had been changed until I went back and watched it again today.
This is what Historia says in the manga:
Three years have passed since the day known as the Battle of Heaven and Earth. Those who survived after an unfathomable number of lives were taken are still tormented by unhealing scars. As the world suffers through their loss, their fears have come true. The Nation of Eldia has formed a so-called army controlled by the Yeagerists, who now focus their efforts on building their military strength. Fearful of retaliation from what is left of humanity on the other side of the sea, the island cries out as one: “If we win we live. If we lose we die. We have to fight to win. Fight. Fight.”
The fight will not end until either Eldia or the world disappears. That is what Eren said, and perhaps he was right after all. Even so, he chose to leave this world in our hands, and we are alive now, in a world without Titans.
And this is what she says in the anime:
It’s been three years since the day now known as the Battle of Heaven and Earth, after the loss of an extraordinary number of lives, those who managed to survive surely still suffer from unhealed wounds. Just as the world, still reeling from loss feared, Eldia formed a military led by the Yeagerists, which gains strength with every passing day. Out of fear of reprisal from the survivors of humanity across the sea the island shouts out with one voice: “If we win we live. If we lose we die. We have to fight to win. Fight. Fight.”
Even with the Titans gone the conflict will not go away. Eren passed on to me all that he knew of the future. Though I can not see the future that lies beyond this one, I have been able to see this future clearly. I’m certain this outcome was not the result of Eren’s choices alone. This world is an outcome wrought by all of our choices. We must fight, so that we need fight no more. Even if we should find ourselves living lives divorced from peace. This isn’t the life he wished for us. But whether he wished for it or not, it is the life he passed on to us. How will we live in the reprieve that remains, in this world without Titans.
The first significant change is that Historia says that Eren passed on to her “all that he knew of the future”. Tbh, I’m not sure I understand Historia’s character well enough to appreciate the implications of what she knew or didn’t know, so I’ll leave others to interpret that one.
The second change, and the one that concerns me more, is that in the anime Historia explicitly states that Eren isn’t solely to blame for the genocide that devastated humanity, rather it is an outcome brought about by them all. There is certainly some truth in that. Eren’s choices are shaped by centuries of war and persecution; the actions of myriad people, from the Founder Ymir onwards, lead to the point that he unleashes the Rumbling. However I think it’s wrong to imply that everyone was equally responsible for Eren’s genocide, as this shifts culpability from Eren to humanity as a whole. I am very much not down for this. I know that Eren claimed that the Founding Titan left him with no choice, that his slaughter of 80% of humanity was pre-ordained, and that nothing he could do would change that outcome, but I still think that he, more than anyone, must bear responsibility for the carnage.
Fandom: Attack on Titan
Pairing: Hanji x Reader
Words: 4k
A/N: This is a self-indulgent, completely unfiltered, messy little fic that deals with my love for Hanji. Ever since I started reading AoT back in 2015, I’ve had a soft spot for Hanji. My little ray of sunshine, one of my first comfort characters, the one character I could actually see myself becoming friends with in real life. Seeing her death finally animated (beautifully) brought a lot of feelings forward. She was brave and gorgeous and kind and absolutely amazing. It actually feels like I’m saying farewell to a close friend of mine. And so this messy fic was born, mostly unedited but with a lot of my personal feelings channeled into the reader’s POV. You can read this as either a platonic or romantic relationship, whatever floats your boat. I hope you enjoy the fic!
Warnings: lots of angst, major character death, implied reader death, some blood and violence, struggling to cope with grief, post-war/post-snk 139 world, Hanji is referred to as female with she/her pronouns
THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AOT S4 PART 3 (AND THE UPCOMING PART 4) AND SNK 139! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ALL CAUGHT UP, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
It’s all so stupid. A stupid idea, a stupid reason behind it, a stupid man telling you about it in the first place. Why even bother with this in the first place? It’s not like it’ll help you in the long run.
But Falco’s still staring up at you with those big eyes, the slightest quiver of his lip, arms stretched out towards your own.
“Please?” His voice is unnaturally soft; it might be the lighting, but you can almost see a tear in those huge eyes. “At least try it, won’t you? I promise, you’ll feel better. Just like Dad says.”
You don’t have the heart to tell the kid his father’s full of shit, just like everyone else in this horrible world. Nothing’s left for you to enjoy, nothing you can cling to during the tough times. Those days are gone, the memories of bliss vanishing with every passing day.
But he looks so sad, so fucking hopeful, as though he still believes you can do it. You can lift this crushing weight off your chest with just a pen, some paper, and a few words every day.
“…Fine.” He practically shoves the dusty old notebook into your chest with a smile. “I’ll give it a shot.”
You’ll try, but you already know it’s a waste of time.
I’m not good at this. Writing’s never been my strong suit—not when it comes to other people. But you already know knew that, didn’t you?
Mr. Grice gave me the idea. Says writing everything down is a lot better than saying it out loud sometimes. Falco said the same thing; he still writes to his brother every other week.
I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’ll ever send them, they’re just gonna sit in my desk collecting dust. But I told Falco I’d try for him. He’s a sweet kid, I can see why you like liked him. Sorry, it’s a habit.
I don’t know what else to say. I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.
It’s me again. Onyankopon came to visit again. He checks up on me at least once every week. Same day, same time. It’s like he doesn’t trust me. Maybe he’s just looking out for me. That’s what Levi says.
Things are slowly going back to normal. He says it’s been almost five months since you left the battle. It’ll be spring soon. This winter hasn’t been too bad though. I miss the snow a little bit. Maybe one day we can go further north to see some next year. I know Gabi and Falco would enjoy it.
I can’t think of anything else to write down. I’m sure I’ll be back soon though.
Mundane topics. What you ate today. Who you saw at the market. The stories Gabi and Falco would make up whenever they were bored.
It’s all so stupid, but you write it down anyway. Stuff she’d like, stuff she wouldn’t like. Not her name, never her name. You can’t bear to say it out loud, not even spell out the letters without bursting into a fit of sobs. What’s the point, anyway? Not like she’s here to answer her own name anymore.
Still, you keep writing. Every day, at least something goes down in that little brown notebook. You’re the only one who reads it. Mr. Grice refuses to, says it’s for your eyes only. Falco sometimes shares what he’s written to his brother, but only when the two of you are alone. He has a little brown book of his own, same shape and size too. Always keeps it in the first drawer of his nightstand, same place you keep yours.
The days crawl by. Every breath hurts less and less. Slowly but surely, you wonder if you’re actually getting better.
I thought of you today. The kids wanted to stop in a bookstore during our shopping trip so I let them. They can be so eager and hyper when they want to be. (Why can’t they be like that when it comes to their chores?)
They both went for the bookshelf in the far corner. Books about the world; about weapons, inventions, plants, animals, experiments, I couldn’t keep track of how many there were. And the kids just sat there for hours, leafing through book after book. I ended up leaving just to drop off the groceries at home before heading back to pick them up. And when I got there they were still poring over those dusty, wrinkled pages.
You would like the bookstore. It’s on the smaller side but it doesn’t feel crowded. It’s got a few benches for people to sit and read for a bit, and there’s a café right next door too. But when I told Levi about it he got a little snippy; I think he’s jealous, his tea shop will always be superior.
He’s doing okay, I know you’re probably worried about him. His leg still gives him trouble but he’s getting better every day. He gave me a job after the shop opened a few weeks ago. Right now I’m just cleaning off tables and fixing up pastries in the back. Gabi handles inventory with Levi (she’s actually pretty good at it) and Falco takes care of the customers up front. He has the best attitude out of all of us, I think. The job is a bit boring sometimes but it beats killing Titans, using ODM gear, being a soldier
Never mind. I’ll write more later, I have to go for now. I’ll be back.
It’s really warm today. I keep thinking about that summer we spent in Krolva, in 848. You kept hunting for strange plants and flowers in the forest and had me and Moblit chasing after you all day! But you didn’t stop, not even when Levi threatened to knock you out and haul you back to base.
Sometimes I can still see Erwin’s smile, hear Mike and Nanaba’s laughter, feel the light summer breeze against my face.
I can still remember the way you said my name. I miss hearing the sound of your voice.
For the first time in a long while, you wake up with a smile on your face.
Your cheeks are stained with tears, still. You haven’t gone to sleep silently once in the past six months or so. Always stuffing your face into the pillow, muffling your sobs, praying neither Levi nor the kids hear you being so pathetic.
Your head is pounding, throat tight but chest feeling lighter than ever. You have to write it down, you don’t wanna forget, don’t forget—
The notebook is resting on your dresser. Your hands still shake when you reach for it, almost clatters to the floor when you try to pick it up. The pen leaps from your trembling fingers. The first words you write are barely legible, but you don’t stop writing for anything.
I had a dream about you last night. I can’t remember everything but I know you were in it and you were still alive smiling.
Still had both eyes, silly girl.
None of our comrades were there; no Levi, Moblit, or Mike. Just me and you, sitting on the rooftop of the old Survey Corps base, watching the stars twinkle above us. Your arm was so warm against my shoulders. Your messy hair tickling my cheek. You were laughing about something, I can’t remember what. But you looked so happy, so carefree and joyful. You haven’t looked that relaxed in years.
You whispered something in my ear, and my throat exploded with laughter. You held me close, lips brushing my cheek, eyes shining in the glowing moonlight.
You were happy, so I was happy.
But then I woke up, you were gone, and I was cold again.
Summer’s almost halfway over. The tea shop has been busier, Levi seems to enjoy the success. He’s still not very sociable but he’s learning to be more pleasant with the customers. They’ll keep coming back if he’s not rude to them all the time.
The town is expanding. Onyankopon thinks one of the nearby cities will start offering jobs, either railroad work or seamstress positions. A lot of factory jobs will start coming back too, and they’ll pay well. He says I could apply, just to keep my hands busy. Says it’s good to get out of the country once in a while.
Still undecided, I’d be going alone. Levi refuses, he hates the idea of city living, and he has the tea shop to worry about. The kids would stay with them; Gabi doesn’t like the smell of smoke, and Falco wouldn’t go anywhere without her. I can go, I don’t have anything tying me down.
What do you think I should do?
Four weeks left. It’s getting harder and harder to keep writing. I thought it would get easier, like Falco said. But I still feel that horrible pit deep in my chest. A weight that’s making it harder to breathe every day.
I don’t know what to do. I’m a burden. I can’t do anything on my own anymore. It’s always Levi or Onyankopon who’s there to hold my hand. Always Gabi and Falco to bring me back, remind me I have to keep living, to keep my head out of the clouds. But sometimes I wish I could run away. Leave it all behind. Maybe that city idea doesn’t seem so bad.
I wish you were here with me.
August 22nd. Two weeks to go.
Levi’s been quieter nowadays. Onyankopon isn’t as eager when he’s talking about the recovering towns and cities. Even the kids are more solemn than usual.
Still hoping this is all a bad dream. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be at my side, smiling and laughing like you do. Not a single care in the world.
The calendar is torn to shreds, left on the kitchen table for everyone to see. Gabi is utterly silent, a far cry from her usual loudmouthed self. Falco is quick to pull her aside as you storm past them, down the hall and into your room, slamming the door with a thud.
Burying your face in your hands. Chest wracked with sobs. Throat burning as her name rips itself from your mouth.
Hanji.
Stop it.
Your back hits the wall, knees buckling beneath your weight. Nails tear at the roots of your hair, scraping down your cheeks, eyes growing warm even though you keep them shut.
Hanji.
Another scream, you throw yourself against the wall. Your shoulder collides with the bookcase, but the pain doesn’t help. Nothing helps you anymore, not even writing in that shitty little book—
Someone’s calling your name on the other side of the door. Tiny fists pound on the wood; the knob twists and turns in vain. You made sure to lock it after coming in here.
Stop it. Can’t they see you want to be left alone?
Alone. You’re all alone now. You have no one left.
No parents, no children, no comrades…
And no other half.
Hanji.
“Stop it!” But you can still hear her name, swirling around in your head, a chorus of a thousand voices.
Hanji, Hanji, Hanji.
“Leave me alone!”
Something shatters against the wall. Your palm stings with something fierce, a shadow of red seeping from the skin.
The book, the book, where is it? Where did you put it?
There it is—right on your bed where you left it last. You’re scrambling over broken glass to grab at it, bloody fingers clutching the pen stuck between the pages. The tears are hot against your cheeks. Hurt like nothing else, not even the pain in your chest.
And they just keep on coming as you keep on writing.
Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go? Why did you have to kill kill yourself like that?
We could’ve handled it. Without your help. Maybe if you’d let us you’d still be alive with me. If you’d just trusted me—why didn’t you trust me? I trusted you, why didn’t you return the favor?
It’s your fault I’m like this now. I was fine before but then you fucked it all up.
Did you think you were some kind of hero? You’re not. Going out in a blaze of glory? Selfish asshole.
You’re not. You never were. You left me and now I’m alone and I hate
I hate you.
I hate you I hate you I hate you didn’t have to leave me but you did and now I hate you I can’t believe I love loved you how could I ever love someone so selfish fuck you so selfish
I HATE YOU
YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DIE WHY AREN’T YOU HERE WITH ME ANYMORE WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU LEAVE TO MAKE YOU GO WHY WHY WHY
I STILL HATE YOU
Levi finds you hours later. Sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, hands trembling against your knees. The book is lying halfway across the room. Must’ve thrown it earlier.
He heaves a sigh, dragging his hand across his scarred face. And despite the ache in his leg he still kneels down to your level, taking a seat beside you against the bed. Wrapping up your hands in one of the spare shirts you tore from the dresser just minutes before.
“Brats were worried,” he finally says, and he sounds so fucking tired. There’s an inkling of guilt blooming in your chest. Such a burden to him, as always. “Said you’d run off and started crying.”
“…So?”
He rolls his eyes, focusing on your bloodied hands. They’re dry now, and he makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
Eventually he pulls you on your feet, leads you to the washroom and runs your hands under the warm water. He wraps up your hands in some clean bandages; over his shoulder you can see two sets of eyes staring at you from down the hall. One brown, one hazel.
“Quit beating yourself up like this. That’s not what she died for, brat. And don’t ask me,” he snaps when I open my mouth, “what she died for. Because you and I both know the answer to that. …So don’t make me say it.”
You’re still blubbering like a child, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, splashing onto the clean bandages around your hands. Levi sighs again before pulling you in close, one arm looped around your shoulders. His chest is warm, heart strong against your palm.
But it’s nothing compared to hers—and the thought makes you cry even harder.
“I get it.” His lips are warm against your forehead, hand cupping around the back of your head. “I miss her, too.”
You’re not sure when he makes you leave the washroom. But once he does he brings you down to the kitchen, giving Gabi and Falco each a pat on their heads. You give them a smile, tears still fresh in your eyes, before gathering the torn pieces of the calendar in your bruised hands.
Maybe you can fix this. It’s the fifth of September, after all. Not a day you want to forget just yet.
I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear on my life. I wanna rip those pages out but I’ll lose the other letters and I don’t want to lose them like I lost you.
I don’t hate you. You’re not selfish, you never were. I know you did the best you could as Commander of the Survey Corps, with the incredible weight on your shoulders. Your main priority was always keeping us safe and giving us hope.
I know why you left that day. But I wish you hadn’t left me behind. I could’ve gone with you, helped you out that day. We could still be together dead or alive.
I love you. I wish I could’ve said it when you were still alive with me. I wish I could say it to your face instead of writing it down in a dusty old notebook.
I love you. I miss you. I wish I could see your smile one last time. Hear your voice again. See the beautiful shine in your eyes.
Because I love you, and I always have. Maybe someday I’ll see you again and tell you face-to-face. Maybe by then I won’t be such a coward.
Hope you enjoy your birthday up there.
Every day brings something new. Smells, tastes, sounds, even the wind outside is different every day. People passing each other hour after hour, car horns filling your ears, the sting of smoke deep in your lungs; it’s easy to get lost in the atmosphere.
You take it in stride. Onyankopon is standing there, holding out his hand, ready to guide you deeper into the city. He’s offered to carry your suitcase but you insisted you do it yourself; too many memories are stuffed in between the clothes inside.
You suck in a breath and take his hand. A little awkward, with a suitcase in your other hand, and the old tattered notebook resting in the crook of your elbow. But the damn thing has already wormed its way into your heart, no way are you leaving it behind now.
A tight swallow, a soft smile from Onyankopon, as you let him lead you towards the next chapter of your life.
City life isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. It’s busy and crowded but it keeps me looking forward. No time to dwell on the past here. Maybe that’s why Onyankopon was so adamant about me living here.
There’s a bookstore here, much larger than the one back home where Levi and the kids live. It pays well, the owner’s nice, and she lets me borrow some of her own books from her personal collection from time to time.
She wears glasses too—not as cute as yours, though.
I try to visit Levi and the kids every other weekend. Gabi and Falco come to visit once in a while but Levi always stays behind. Blames it on the bad leg but we both know the truth. Too many bad memories of Mitras has made him wary of crowded cities.
But I like it. I have my own apartment, right next door to Onyankopon’s, with a balcony and a slew of potted plants. Onyankopon says some people like to name their plants just for the fun of it. The two sitting on the windowsill are Sawney and Bean. (You’re welcome, silly girl.)
It’s hard work but I’m getting better. I don’t dread writing in this book anymore. I can think of your smile without bursting into tears. For now I’m content to sit back and enjoy city life, until whatever god watching over us decides my time is up.
I promise to write soon; have to head to work now. I’ll be back.
It’s been a year since you left me. I still want to see you again.
Onyankopon and I are heading into town for a few days to visit Levi. He says he doesn’t need help around the shop but he never complains whenever I show up at his door. Sometimes I wonder if he feels obligated to put up with me. If he thinks you’ll haunt him forever if he turns me away. That sounds like something you would do, silly girl.
I had another dream about you last night. Right after the celebration for Shiganshina, the night before the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. We were laughing and drinking and sharing old stories—but we weren’t alone. Erwin and Levi were there. So was Moblit, and by some miracle, so were Mike and Nanaba.
I hope we’ll all be together again soon. I hope they’re all watching us, waiting to see what we’ll do with this new world we’ve forged for ourselves.
I know you are. You’re always watching, aren’t you?
I have to go now, or Onyankopon will head out without me. I’ll let you know how Levi and the kids are when I come home.
Miss you more every day. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon. Until then, I’ll just have to keep writing these silly little letters. I think you’d like them anyways.
See you later, Hanji.
It’s bright when you open your eyes. Too bright, a soft breeze kissing your cheeks, nose scrunching up as you shield your face with your hands. Funny, you don’t remember leaving the window open when you fell asleep. Or sleeping outside, for that matter.
You’re lying in the grass, a bed of wildflowers sprawled beneath you. There’s a forest at the edge of the valley, close enough for you to see the shadows of animals spilling across the trees. The sun is warm on your skin, so bright and beautiful, not a single cloud in the sky.
Almost too good to be true.
Is this it? Have you finally reached the end of your line? All those days with Levi, Onyankopon, and the kids, moving from town to city for work, seeing what little of the new world you could for both you and your other half…
Has your time finally run out?
“Hey, over here!”
Your blood freezes in your veins. A shadow crosses yours in the warm sunlight. A heavy cape blows in the wind, a dark green to match the forest beyond the meadow.
A pair of wings splashed against the fabric. Messy brown hair tied up haphazardly. Shiny glasses reflecting in the sun. Warm brown eyes that remind you of home.
“I was wondering when you’d get here. It’s been kinda lonely, I have to say…”
Hanji Zoe is standing right there in front of you, looking as radiant as ever. No scars or bruises to be seen, nor the black patch over her left eye. No burns or charred fabric on her body.
She looks…happy. Safe, content.
Alive.
“…Dumbass,” you finally find your voice, rushing into her outstretched arms. “You had me worried sick! Are you hurt? Can I do anything for you? I swear, I won’t let you go anywhere alone ever again! I’ll be right there by your side for as long as you—”
“Hey, hey, hey, come on now! You’re gonna make me blush with all that sweet talk!”
But you can’t stop yourself. And before you know it you’re sobbing into her chest, arms wrapped tight around her wrist, feeling the soft b-bmp of her heart against your ear.
“Love you, you know that? I love you, so please don’t leave me again…”
You’ll say it over and over, as many times as she wants to hear it. But for right now she’s silent, her arms resting around your waist and shoulders, tugging you in for a bone-crushing hug. Her messy hair is tickling your nose again, her smile could rival the sun in the sky. She shakes her head and lets out a laugh, before pressing a warm kiss to the apple of your cheek.
“I won’t ever leave you again, alright? I’m sorry about that, I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean to leave you like that…”
You hold her tighter, knocking her down into the wildflowers below. She lets out a real laugh this time, hair sticking out like a halo above her head, palms against your cheeks. For the first time in months—no, years—your chest feels whole again.
“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay…”
A comforting silence washes over the two of you. It’s so warm right here, in this little meadow of your own, surrounded by a thousand wildflowers. She’s finally safe in your arms, after all these years, and you are never letting her go ever again.
“…I love you, Hanji.”
“I know,” she answers with a smile that makes your heart soar, “and I love you too.”
