#happy birthday werner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

octopus-reactivated · 1 year

Text

Werner - meeting Marven again

It's short, because I had limited time, but wanted to do something. Hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Tw/cw: Pet whump, kidnapping, gaslightning, shock collar, captivity. (let me know if I missed anything!)

Werner hugged his knees.

His situation was dramatic and to his surprise he found himself mourning not that his whole life changed but rather that he lost the little things.

He missed his family. He wanted to become self-sufficient and he spent the whole semester studying at university, and when he had a break and was going to have nice holidays in his hometown… Mom said she had a surprise for him when he got home. He never got to learn what that surprise was.

If he got kidnapped three weeks later he would already be finished with exams. Now he’s going to miss it and will have to re-take classes. So inconvenient.

He won’t get to go on the frozen lake this winter.

He didn’t have his favorite notebook with him.

He won’t get to sleep in his old bed.

He even missed his annoying roommate, even though their worldviews were so different, he was better than this.

It was ironic, because Marven was working as a Pet Trainer, and they had multiple arguments about that as Werner was strongly against…

Werner felt like his heart felt from chest to stomach and all the heat in his body turned into the cold.

There were rumors that many of the Pets didn’t go into the system voluntarily.

Werner was openly against the whole idea.

His roommate was directly working for Pet training facility.

And now Werner sat with a shock collar on his neck.

After connecting the dots it was so obvious, that he wondered how he didn’t realize it right away.

He felt anger white-hot as white was this damned cage he was locked in overtaking him.

He had whole life ahead of him, and it was taken away because of what? Because he was a danger to the company? Because he dared to speak up?

On the other hand, did that mean his actions would change something? That it wasn’t in vain?

For a moment, Werner regretted being so brave about it, but he shrugged this feeling off. There was no reason to feel ashamed for standing up for his principles.

He stood up, paced around the room for a while and sat down again.

How long will he be like that?

What will they want from him?

The only time he interacted with workers there, he was expected to recite ‘rules’.

He wasn’t told them, not by trainers, but he heard about some in his life before.

Fortunately, memorisation was his strong side, so he managed to put together a list of rules. Probably not all of them and not in ‘correct order’, but better than nothing.

He came there not earlier than a day ago, but he was treated like he was there for a long time.

That meant, he won’t be shown mercy because he’s “still learning”, but after bit of thought, Werner decided not to go along with them for now. After all, they knew he wasn’t really there for long, they just pretended they didn’t.

And getting too obedient too quickly could be suspicious.

And he deserves to get angry just once, before he starts fearing them too much.

__________

Yet, he didn’t expect how angry he would get when he saw Marven's face.

“You!” He lunged forward and almost managed to throw a punch, before electrical shock threw him on the ground.

“I always assumed you were the smart one," said Marven in a calm voice. Like he didn’t just torture his roommate.

“Now I had heard you forgot your place,”he continued, while Werner tried to collect himself “You refused to recite your rules. You didn’t show proper respect to your Trainers. And now… this”

“It was your doing, wasn’t it?” Werner asked through grinned teeth

“Talking without permission.”

“Answer me!” Werner shouted “It was you who made me like that, right?”

Marven stayed silent for a while and then crouched next to him

“No. “ He said calmly “For me, you always were just a Pet. I’m only about to make you aware of that”

__________

Taglist: @heathenwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @kim-poce @whumpering-heights @icyheart-and-friends

#whump #pet whump #miserable life of werner #happy birthday!#sorry for making you miserable #captivity whump #my writing

6 notes · View notes

f1tfballetc · 2 months

Text

Happy birthday, Timo Werner! 🎂🎉🥳

Your passion and your love for the game are truly inspiring. Keep playing with pride and enthusiasm, and you will continue to make a difference.

#timo werner #tottenham hotspur #football #football players #hot football players #soccer #footballer #happy birthday #premier league #premier league 23/24

1 note · View note

thatgeekwiththeclipons · 2 years

Text

Happy 80th Birthday to Academy Award Nominated filmmaker Werner Herzog! ^__^

1 note · View note

foxvalleylover · 2 years

Text

Happy Birthday , Werner Herzog

Photography (c) Michael Dürr

coming soon : Viennale

#Vienna#Viennale#WernerHerzog#Director#Film#Art#Cinema#Arthouse#Germany#Kunst#Kultur#Filmfestival#Photography#Artist#Artdirector#Writer#Editor#Photo#MichaelDuerr#MichaelDürr#Music#Magazine#Actor#Actress#Regie#Interview#HappyBirthday

more : www.michaelduerr.com

0 notes

endlich-allein · 1 year

Text

Till Lindemann from "Rammstein" turns 60

Good man

Von Flake Lorenz

3. Januar 2023

Till Lindemann, "Rammstein" singer and lyricist, turns 60. Congratulations from his longtime friend and keyboardist.

Actually, one would not have to wait for a milestone birthday to honor this wonderful person. You could just pause and pay homage to the force of nature on any other evening. It may also be that Till Lindemann's birthday this Wednesday is not true. Even when Bravo reported about Rammstein for the first time in the early 1990s, our dates of birth were completely out of thin air. We were way too old for the Bravo target group back then, so the editors simply made us a few years younger. That wasn't a problem because the internet was still empty.

We soon realized that it doesn't matter how old you really are. Much later, when Rammstein became successful, being old was even better. You can deal more calmly with all that nonsense and enjoy your happiness in peace. Also, a person's age is just in the eye of the beholder, at least I don't know anyone who would call themselves old. On the other hand, I can still remember how, as a young musician, I couldn't calm down when I found out that the guitarist in a band I was friends with was over 30 years old. "He can still make music?" I asked. Men over 50 were half-dead, bleating grandpas in ugly brown clothes, they were every teenager's natural enemy.

It's 1986. Till turns up the system. I'm worried: What will the neighbors think?

Till seemed old to me when I met him. That was in the mid-1980s in East Germany. Till was not only older than me, in contrast to me he was already really grown up. He lived in his own house while I was still in my parents' room and didn't even have a girlfriend. I saw Till for the first time in 1986 in a Schwerin club after a Feeling B concert. I immediately noticed him: Till was a tall, strong man who on the one hand exuded natural authority, but at the same time seemed very shy. We didn't hesitate when he offered to take us home with him. His house in the country near Schwerin seemed like paradise to me, it was incredibly comfortable, probably because he had set it up that way himself; he had knocked out the walls between the rooms and left only the half-timbering. The volume on his system was turned up to the limit, the Sisters Of Mercy screamed from the cheap speakers.

I had never dared to do anything like this in my life. What would the neighbors think? When I wanted to play a song on the piano in between, Till simply carried it for me to another room where it wasn't so loud. At some point we all fell asleep where we sat and stood, like in Sleeping Beauty, and when I woke up the next morning, I imagined what it would be like if you always lived like Till. I really liked this idea.

Of course, his life wasn't a one-stop party. He also lived in the house because the argument with his father, who was not exactly frail, had escalated beforehand. Till had hit his father, the children's book author Werner Lindemann, with such a punch that he flew into the strawberry bed. Then Werner Lindemann threw Till's things out of the skylight. Life in a sports boarding school and training as a carpenter in Rostock were no fun either. Later, as a single father, Till lived with his daughter Nele in his nest, which in turn probably saved him from being drafted into the army. Till always seemed and always seems in a good mood to me – a bit like Obelix, of course not in terms of stature, for God's sake, he looks more like Arnold Schwarzenegger, but in terms of personality he's more like Obelix. Always according to the motto: "Friends, I have a plan, let's go here and there and break everything to pieces!"

Practical: He could change a wheel on the Trabi without using the jack

When the wall was suddenly open, Till drove to Lübeck with a couple of friends and spent all the West money he had saved and exchanged on gummy bears. He sat in a doorway and ate them all. Of course, he also manages a wild boar – it was an advantage back then that he lived so close to the railway embankment. When a waiter asks Till if he liked his food, he usually replies: "Yes, thank you, it was plenty." Incidentally, he also shares Obelix's great love of small dogs. Since Till is with (allegedly) Francis of Assisi, who wrote: "The dog remains loyal to me in the storm, man not even in the wind."

And like Obelix, Till seems to have fallen into a magic potion, because he really has tremendous powers.

At that time he could change a wheel on the Trabi without using the jack. In the old days, when we had to work as stewards at an open-air festival, Till just banged his fist through a car window to hold the driver down.

If Till sees any body of water, he immediately plunges into it and plows through it like a motorboat. He tucks the boxes that we carry in the studio or in the rehearsal room under his arm alone.

If a door is locked somewhere, he just sticks me through a second-story window so I can open it all from the inside.

I've never met anyone who is so pragmatic about music and lyrics. Till would never have originally thought of becoming a singer. Although he observed that musicians in Schwerin had a hit with women and then played drums in a punk band - but in all those years I really never had the feeling that punk music particularly interested him. An effective and well thought-out stage show was always more important to him. For example, Till once put chickens in the bass drum and only pulled the cloth away after the first song, causing the animals to tumble across the stage.

Cheering crowds, prizes and honours: All of this actually leaves him completely cold

When Till was supposed to sing with us, it was very difficult for him at first, because as a singer you can't hide behind an instrument or another musician. Then he put on welding goggles so that he looked like a friendly insect. Till sang beautifully, deeply and soothingly. We stopped worrying immediately. Everything would be fine. We just needed good lyrics. So Till sat down to write them. He never pretends to be a great artist who needs to express his deep feelings. He prefers to think about what else can be lit on stage (like me). The concerts used to be a lot of fun. At that time we always looked for an attractive village inn first, in order to eat as much as possible. Only then did we set up our stuff and play.

Till loves women - and women love him. But how he manages to go through his life completely free of any affectation, even after 37 years, still arouses deep admiration from me. Cheering crowds of spectators, prizes and honors actually leave him completely cold. Organizing a party for our entire crew seems to be more important to him than any concert. Incidentally, he has renounced his rights as a lyricist for decades, so that all six of us at Rammstein earn exactly the same. In any case, Till has extended the life of the band, because money is usually the trigger for a breakup. He, on the other hand, has a very decisive influence on our band with his lyrics and his voice.

So we can still successfully defend our small East German village. By Teutates! May the sky never fall on Till's head!

(I'm not sure of this whole translation so feel free to correct me)

#thank you so much flake #i am not crying you are #till is a good man and a rare and beautiful being human #till and flake #my loves #till is love 🖤#till lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #oliver riedel #christoph schneider #richard kruspe #rammstein #rammstein 2023 #till's day

442 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 2 months

Text

My folks got me this enormous Charizard for my birthday and it came like two weeks early and I am so damn happy.

Scooter the charmander is happy to meet his younger brother, who my mom named Fitzcarraldo because she's been watching Werner Herzog movies.

#I'm so happy I don't give a fuck that a 35 year old man should not be this thrilled to have an enormous plush dragon

39 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 3 months

Text

Happy Birthday Scottish actor Ewen Bremner, born January 23rd 1972 in Edinburgh.

Bremner has worked with many of the most respected directors in world cinema, including Danny Boyle, Mike Leigh, Ridley Scott, Joon-Ho Bong, Werner Herzog and Woody Allen. Hen has established himself by creating unique characters in critically acclaimed films, as well as going toe to toe with many of Hollywood's biggest stars.

Ewen had worked widely in theatre, television, and film for years before being cast in his breakout role in Trainspotting, by Oscar-winning director Danny Boyle. He was the first to be cast in the role of Mark Renton in Edinburgh's Traverse Theatre production but lost out to Ewan McGregor in the film version, instead he was handed the role of Spud Murphy and earned screen immortality with his character's infamous "speed fuelled" job interview scene.

Prior to Trainspotting, Bremner gave a striking performance in Mike Leigh's Naked, fellow Scot Susan Vidler played his girlfriend Maggie in this excellent film.

In 1999, Bremner received critical acclaim for his portrayal of a schizophrenic man living with his dysfunctional family in Harmony Korine's Julien, Donkey-Boy. Filmed strictly in accordance with the ultra-realist tenants of Lars Von Trier's Dogma 95 movement and starring opposite Werner Herzog, Bremner played Julien its eponymous hero, requiring him to assume an American accent. He then worked with director Michael Bay in his high-profile 2001 war film Pearl Harbor, proving his versatility once again by portraying the role of a wholeheartedly patriotic American soldier fighting in WWII. The following year, he stepped back into fatigues for a supporting role in Ridley Scott's Black Hawk Down, while rounding out the next several years with roles in high-profile Hollywood releases such as The Rundown, Disney's Around the World in 80 Days), AVP: Alien vs. Predator, Woody Allen's Match Point, the comedy Death at a Funeral directed by Frank Oz, and Fool's Gold starring Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson.

This past few of years proved to be a busy when Bremner was invited to join the DC Universe in the Zack Snyder-produced feature Wonder Woman, directed by Patty Jenkins, co-starring Gal Gadot and Chris Pine. Ewen also reprised his unforgettable role as Spud in the highly-anticipated sequel to Danny Boyle's cult classic, T2: Trainspotting

Bremner appeared in the TNT Drama Series Will with Shekhar Kapur. The series told the story of the lost years of young William Shakespeare after his arrival to London in 1589 but only lasted one season. Other notable film credits include Woody Allen's You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, Perfect Sense starring again alongside Ewan McGregor, Great Expectations, Jack the Giant Slayer, and Snowpiercer starring alongside Chris Evans and Tilda Swinton. Further credits include Exodus: Gods and Kings, Wide Open Spaces, Mojo, Mediator, Faintheart, Hallam Foe, Sixteen Years of Alcohol, and Snatch.

In television, Ewen has worked on many acclaimed productions including David Hare's Worriker trilogy starring Bill Nighy for BBC, Jimmy McGovern's Moving On and also his Australian mini-series Banished, Strike Back for Sky TV, Dominic Savage's Dive, the Dylan Thomas biopic, A Poet In New York and the adaptation of Day of the Triffids for the BBC. Other noteworthy series appearances include portraying legendary surrealist Salvador Dali in the U.K. television drama Surrealissimo: The Trial of Salvador Dali, and a guest spot on the successful NBC series, My Name is Earl, not to forget an early appearance in Taggart way back in 1990.

Latley Ewen has been one of a number of Scottish actors who are backing a campaign to reopen the Film House cinema in Edinburgh, he has a couple of projects on the go just now, Bluefish, which takes us around the globe to tell stories of people trying to break out of their bubbles of isolation, which I take to mean the Covid pandemic, he also has a film on the go called Roo, but there is nothing to report on that just now.

#scotland #scottish #history #happy birthday #actor #television #cinema #trainspotting

21 notes · View notes

otomesanada · 1 year

Text

Be My Princess 2’s Childrens (PT. 2)

so, i will only translate a little bit of the second CG (image in the right) because if i translated everything, it would be a loooot... and i would stay here for days and days. but there's context, i will also talk about why the nickname, if it's too different from the name! here is part one of the princes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

King Oliver & Prince Arthur (“Watson”).

why the nickname Watson? Prince Arthur said he couldn't tell about the future to Oliver, then got the nickname from Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.

King Oliver, MC and Prince Arthur went out for a walk on Oliver’s birthday and, in the middle of streets, two chefs were fighting over a pizza, complaining about copying each other. Oliver then proposed they jointly promoted the pizza, so the public can say which pizza taste better. the two chefs liked the idea, Arthur was amazed. after coming home (and Werner yelled at Oliver), Arthur decided it was the best time to give his father the birthday gift, a book he made. Oliver started reading and praising the drawings too, making Arthur embarrassed. MC and Oliver were moved after reading that Arthur wanted to protect the country’s peace just like his dad and they hugged as a family. next few days, taking a break, Oliver said he likes to read Arthur’s book every day, the kid saying he'll make a lot of drawings. Oliver thanked MC for raising such a kind child.

King Max & Prince Anselm (“Muu”).

why the nickname Muu? Prince Anselm was seen with a sheep plushie when he traveled to the past + the last katakana of his name, Muu.

Prince Anselm was anxious for his speech on King Max’s birthday party, so he froze in front of everyone. Max and MC were worried for their kid, she was going to help Muu-chan, but Max stopped MC, saying he believes Muu-chan will do it on his own time. little by little, Muu-chan steps to his dad, giving him a bouquet and an album, full of photos of them. MC is relieved, and then comments the album is incomplete, it's missing the last photo. Max is curious, and Anselm says it's reserved for a photo of the three of them. they ask Butler Gaston to take photo of them together, everyone applauding the family. Muu-chan and Max are relaxed and MC thinks it's a good time to take a picture of them again, asking for Gigi’s camera. later, MC talks about how Gigi is partner in crime of Anselm, taking the photos of them together.

King Lyuo & Prince Theodore (Teddy).

King Lyuo and Prince Theodore got sick after spending some time together, and MC was worried about Teddy not being fully healthy for Lyuo’s birthday party. Prince Aslan appeared, making Teddy happy, he really likes Aslan. MC let them talk and Aslan ask what Theodore is feeling, who admits he feels sad for being sick and not getting a gift for his dad. Aslan then, secretly gives an option to Teddy. after party, MC cooks for Lyuo, who was feeling sick and occupied and ended up not eating much. they celebrate as family. when getting ready for bed, MC notices Lyuo and Teddy sleeping and accidentally wakes them up. she feels happy to see them hugging, they weren't feeling very well before. Teddy admits he is feeling guilty, thinking he was the reason why Lyuo was feeling bad too and tries to make a spell for Lyuo to get better soon. Lyuo feels happy and hugs his kid really hard, feeling very hard to spend time with him again.

BONUS:

Butler Jin & Ren + Prince Shion & Ruito.

because it's the first time there's an event with Shion & Jin with their son, that's the event their son travels back in time.

Ren thinks Jin and MC doesn't get along, because MC always deny Jin’s touches in public. she is just a little shy with it plus thinks it's not an appropriate way to behave in front of their kid.

Ruito is worried that Prince Shion and MC are feeling overwhelmed with work, so he asks Butler Kent to help him make omelette, because he knows eating a delicious meal makes him feel better. MC and Shion are very happy to see their son being so caring, and there's the sense of they did something right in the future. after Shion’s birthday party, Ruito gives him a bouquet he made himself to Shion, congratulating his father for his birthday and Shion is feeling very proud of his son. after hugging Ruito, a light appears and take the kid back to the future. Shion comments Ruito is really MC’s son, for liking flowers and aromas.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

some of these images aren't mine, it's from some of my friends but they allowed me to post it, besides it's from voltage’s anyway.

#nxndas.txt #oliver button #maximilien levaincois #lyuo #butler jin #shion casiraghi #be my princess 2 #voltage inc #be my princess #otomesanada plays #王子様のプロポーズ eternal kiss #王子様のプロポーズii

91 notes · View notes

harryswinks · 2 months

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMO WERNER MY FAVOURITE PATHETIC KETCHUP ON PASTA EATING WET CAT LOOKING MAN I LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH

#stacey speaks

8 notes · View notes

nelapanela94 · 1 year

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @yakaaamoz this one is for you!!!

EVERYONE SEND BIRTHDAY WISHES TO MIA!!

WC: 2k

TW: fluff, domestic fluff, post war, a smidge of smut (nothing explicit)

You and Levi celebrating your first Valentine's Day after the war.

Dot, dot.

“Levi, you’re too slow!” you chrip and wedge between him and the railing, making the five-story building rumble with your zing and agitation.

He’s left alone, amid the flight of stairs between the first and second floor, with the lingering clatter of your boots. Grumbling, he rolls the eyes, fixes his hat and hobbles after, his hand tightening around the handle of the walking aid. He meets the startled neighbor from the 201 and nods apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s the last episode.” Levi shrugs.

“It’s ok.” The man chortles. “My mother loves that play too.” A cigarette dangles from his lips. He shoves his hand into his pockets and climbs down the stairs. “Good evening, Mr. Ackerman.”

You stumble into your apartment, scuff off your shoes, tripping and clinging to the wall. A gush of pain blows up in your toe, and you curse at the coffee table for happening to be in the middle of the living room. You don’t have time to cry, anyway; the pendulum keeps swaying; the seconds tick. You plunge on your knees before the intricately carved wooden box, and static crackles as you turn the dial, the tiny red line moving back and forth between the numbers, the scratchy noise vexing and probing your patience.

Finally, the sultry voice that gives life to Werner Fischer hones in the last scene of yesterday’s episode and, splaying a hand on your chest, you heave a sigh of relief. You huddle on the couch and stretch your wool sweater over your knees, expectant. Tonight, Sarah will choose between her fiancé Werner, the wealthy, extremely good-looking and perfect future son-in-law, or Thomas Meyer, her family’s gamekeeper, and the love of her life since they were fifteen.

The notes of the Wedding March purl in, and Sarah’s journey to the altar commences.

“No, Sarah, don’t.” You mumble, clenching the hem of your sweater and biting your lips. Meanwhile, Thomas is waiting at the train station. Steam hoots, people blather, iron wheels hurtle by and screech. A letter rumples in his hand.

The door thuds and the foyer lights flicker to life. Levi takes his time. He hooks the cane on the nail, then shimmies off his trench, his jacket and slips them on the branches of the tree-like hanger. Then his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His spine cracks as he groans down onto the bench.

Maybe he is getting old.

But aren’t the forties supposed to be the new thirties? That’s what the guy in the hair dye add says.

Deliberately, he takes off his shoes, fishes yours with his toes and pushes both pairs under the seat where they belong.

That goddamn play has become your new vice and sometimes he regrets buying the damn radio for your last birthday. Nah. He loves seeing you smile. He’ll never forget the spark in your eyes when music blared into the house for the first time, and you beckon him to the dance floor even though he was still doomed to the wheelchair. The candid and carefree way you react to the small things in life fascinates him.

He limps to the kitchen, ties the apron on and rummages through the scanty content in the fridge, diving into the drawer of forgotten veggies where your attempts for a healthy lifestyle lie.

The box of chocolate bars rests in plain sight.

He unwraps one, furtive enough to go unnoticed by the acute ears of a telegraphist. Even though you’re too absorbed in the play, he cranes his head over his shoulder, squinting. Nothing. You’re rocking with apprehension, riveted to the radio.

The bomb of textures and flavors explodes in his mouth, the chewiness of the caramel mates immaculately with the crunchiness of the wafer.

The foil falls into the bin, and he wipes his fingers clean.

The heater hums; the windows rattle with the sharp and crispy wind.

Onions, tomatoes, garlic; mouth-watering sizzling. Through the chop chop chop, he strains his ears to catch the final scenes. Though predictable, like your romance novels, he’s engaged in the plot too, listening in secrecy while making dinner. Now Sarah runs across the town in her hefty wedding gown, crossing her fingers for Thomas not to hop in that train. He leans over the countertop, scrapes the cutting board into the pan, his hand threatening to solder to the knife handle.

The trains whistles to depart, and Sarah’s harrowing pleads stop the machine.

You’re clapping and sniffling and wiping your tears; your nails most likely reduced to the roots.

And they lived happy ever after.

“Did you like it, Levi?” You chime from the living room, stoking the coals in the fireplace.

Shit.

You turn off the radio and pad on your kitty socks to the kitchen, your eyes red and swollen and the hem of your sleeves tinted in a darker shade of taupe. “Next week starts a new one, we should listen together,” you say, flitting like a hummingbird from pantry to pantry to spoil dinner.

“I’m not into that crap.”

You raise a brow, hands hooked at your hips.

“I wasn’t.” he grunts, and your peck on his cheek softens him.

You stride around him, filching a chunk of carrot, sniffing the sauté, and turn toward the fridge, while Levi rakes an excuse in his head he’ll need for when war drops the question mark.

“Levi! That was the last one!” you pout.

But he shrugs and sighs, bullet-resistant to your whining. “You said you wanted to lose some pounds; I was helping.”

“You’re saying I’m fat.” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He opens his mouth to concoct his defense and closes it immediately, sewing his lips into a thin line before he, involuntarily, wreaks havoc in your kitchen. He knows that whatever he says, you’ll twist his words against him, transmute them into a dagger. One doesn’t fight battles that are already lost.

Levi surrenders, turns around, and you trap him in your arms, pressed between your body and the granite edge. No time to hunker down in the trench. You kiss him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, unannounced, cajoling sweet sounds and little grunts, savoring him; his not so shy hands teasing with the hem of your sweater.

You pull apart, holding down his hands, his lips dewy and pink, his eyes glazed with endearment. “You taste good,” you purr against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, some strands dusted with the white of age.

Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dash. Dot.

In the pot, water burbles to a boil, the ring of blue fire fizzing. You prattle about your day, tangling and combing out his soul with your sweet voice.

☺

He lids the leftovers of the stew, and you help him to the couch. He snuggles in your arms, in his safe place, his ear pressed on your heartbeats. His solace and reassurance. His purpose. His beacon.

You caress his hair, fondly, with the adoration of a devotee raising their palms in hallelujah.

“Levi.” You whisper.

“uh?”

“Do you want to be my Valentine?”

“You’re what?”

“Valentine.”

He raises his head, scanning your face. “What is a Valentine?”

“I’m not so sure.” You tap a finger on your chin, gazing up and blushing. “I heard the girls in the office blathering about chocolates and roses, but I was too embarrassed to ask. It seems they celebrate love, the fourteenth.”

Levi ponders. Now it makes sense why so many lovey-dovey mawkish couples have been swarming the tea shop since the beginning of the month. Does he look that dumb when he’s staring at you?

He jots in his head to have Gabi and Falco garland the shop with red and white.

He smiles. “I’ll be your Valentine. Whatever that means.”

Your eyes glint, and you plant kisses on his head. Rosemary sheds from his hair.

☺

You tear off the 13th from the calendar; but the elation soon dwindles.

The restaurants are bursting at the seams. At Montolivo, the line snakes around the block, and Levi’s gammy leg is giving up. The wind blows slashing your cheeks, and people’s breaths amass in a cloud.

“I’m sorry, Levi.” You mutter halfheartedly and disappointed, “I should’ve made a reservation.”

He winds an arm over your shoulders for support, “and I should’ve brought the damn chair.”

After the war time rolls by leisurely. You take your time, shamble down the street festooned in red hearts, the throngs splitting to give you way. Matching coats and scarves. There’s nothing else to worry about other than what you’re going to eat for lunch.

A little boy, around eight with his hair slick-parted to the side, stops before you and hands you a rose. You know him. Every Friday, he and his mother place a message for his father who works at a mine two hundred miles to the west.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles. His plump cheeks flush, his hands tethered behind his back. He scuffs a foot on the pavement as you pat his head. “You’re so sweet, Matty. Thank you. Happy Valentine for you too.” You bend and drop a kiss on his head, and all his face heats with red.

“Who is that?” He points at Levi, both glowering at each other.

Her official Valentine. Brat. But Levi bites his tongue before he screws up and ends up sleeping in the couch tonight. Thankfully, Mrs. Russo saves the day. She calls Matty and he waves goodbye to you, before slithering through the crowd.

Jewelry stores gleam; marbled chocolate truffles are dusted with gold. The air is dense with the perfume of roses, and beams of sun pierce the mantle of clouds like search lights.

“Let’s grab a large pepperoni. There’s a Malbec waiting for a special occasion at home.” You come up with a quick plan as your stomach grumbles in reproach.

Why do we wait for special dates to use the good stuff? Life slips through our fingers as we wait for the right moment, and then it is too late.

You eat the cheap greasy pizza on the finest china that had never seen the daylight, sloshing a glass of wine back and forth, laughing between hiccups. The gramophone’s flower spills the chords of Debussy and fills every corner of your home.

Home.

You and him.

You eat in silence, with the notes climbing and swirling down in the comfortable kind of silence lovers share.

“Some fresh moon flesh, my sweet valentine?” He opens his mouth, and you stick a wedge of soft camembert. The runny interior, smooth and silky against the pleasantly bitter rind. There’s always a wheel around; you just cannot have enough cheese. “Wine burns fat.” You always say and pour to the last drop. Levi’s cheeks flush, his dimple at full display, crow feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He’s mellowed with time.

The cardboard box is blotted with cheese, bestrewn with dried oregano and dough crumbs. In the middle you place a can, the expiration date says it’s fine, but the label has been ripped. It could be anything: beans, sweet corn or spaghetti o’s. You cross your fingers for it to be something sweet.

You find out together. With the tip of a knife, you flick the lid open, and Levi smiles. “Peaches?”

“Peaches.”

You dip two fingers in, tow one slippery half, and nab it, humming with delight, the sugary juice dripping on your hand. Levi laughs, shaking his head and follows you. Sunrise sliding down his throat.

Sweet shops and pastry shops were overflowing with lovers you couldn’t wrest out a slice of pie.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” you say as your pile up the plates in the sink. But you’ll forget and Levi will do the washing up.

You give him a hand and haul him to his feet, then turn around, and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your back. “Ready?” You clasp your hands on his, holding tight.

“Yes.”

The fireplace crackles, sputtering fire flakes, the flickering glow lapping your naked bodies in bronze. Intertwined like Sinding’s lovers. He presses down into you, your belly flat on the carpet, your name falling in whispers onto your hair.

Writhing and panting. He kisses the spot under your ear, his fingers stroking the knobs of your spine. The rose feels shy and jealous, and her petals unfurl toward the window.

Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dash.

He taps a sequence of dots and dashes on your shoulder. And you smile. All week you’ve been encoding, sending, and decoding the same array for strangers. Three words, eight letters. Twelve short beeps, twelve long beeps, strung in a pattern that’s already carved in your head.

“I love you too, Levi,” you breathe, your body quivering with pure bliss.

His hand finds yours, wedding bands glinting, and he gives you a squeeze.

You are his safe place, his quiet corner, his sweet surrender. You two are the best love story. Better than any cheesy radio play.

And he mutters, “I want to be your valentine forever.”

Tag list: @stygianoir @lamees004 @lovolee3 @notgoodforlife

If you want to be part of the tag list, fill out this form.

#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/reader #levi ackerman/you #Levi ackerman attack on titan #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #attack on titan #snk #snk levi #aot Levi #Levi ackerman fic #Levi ackerman x y/n

126 notes · View notes