#Ymir x krista

[foxymacchiato]

How could I go through pride month without drawing my precious lesbians~💖🎀🧡

[annawayne]

Lovers

[max-loves-naruto]

Gays always gotta suffer 😔💔

[izzy-prizzy]

EVERYDAY i wake up and think about them and CRY-

[1very1fancy1doilies1]

they’re both perfectly fine, actually

[sonofthesaiyans]

The girl with no name.....

Okay, I got a question for you all, and I'm itching to see what people come up with. What's a name you think suits our long-lost Jaw Titan and Historia's beloved, Ymir?

Even knowing where she came from, Ymir's origins still remain an everlasting question mark. There's still so much we never learned about her, and unlike Historia, who reclaimed her name and renounced the legacy of her family, Ymir never had the same luxury. Even before she became a Titan, she had no identity that was rightfully hers....

Even as a child, her name was not her own. As an orphan with no memory of her true family, she was easily manipulated into playing the part of a false idol, her name belonging to Eldia's long forgotten founder.

For this she was stripped of her humanity, turned into a Titan, and left to mindlessly wander Paradis. Even when she finally broke free of this personal hell, she had nothing left to go by but her old title.

Ymir may have eventually conquered these demons and found the strength to be her own person, even helping Historia to do the same.....But it's hard not to wonder what Ymir's real beginnings were. Who her parents were. And what her name might've been. It's truly perplexing how Historia eventually found the will to return to her true name, but we never got any such revelation from Ymir, who has either truly forgotten everything of her life before she was an orphan or has chosen to leave that all in the past.

It truly would've been a powerful moment if she could've reclaimed her past self, all that was taken from her, simply by taking back the one thing that allowed her to live her life on her terms, something that until her chance encounter with the Warriors on Paradis was no longer possible.

That all being said, I want to know what names you all think would suit Ymir, if her true origins were ever finally revealed?

For starters, I will tell you my headcanon name for her, one I came up with with a friend's help a while back: Leah.

I think her name could be Leah. A little trivia, in Hebrew, Leah apparently means "Delicate" or "Weary". Given all that she's been through, I think it fits.

So now you know mine, what would be yours? First and last names are both fair game. What in your heart fits the one-time holder of the Jaw Titan? Have at it, guys. I truly want to know.

Because, as I so often say: Ymir Deserves Better.

[snow-bees]

Yumikuri megapost aaaa (I dont rlly draw aot anymore but I thought tumblr might like maybe)

[imalicu]

Their's plan vs god's plan

YumiHisu version

[verywholesome]

Absence Makes the Mind Falter

“I don’t mind,” Historia whispers as she pulls Mikasa back down, stopping just before their lips reconnect, “if you think about her. We don’t have to be alone, Mikasa.”

Mikasa drunkenly kisses Historia, thinking of Annie in her stupor, but recently heart-broken Historia doesn't completely reject the idea.

TWO CHAPTERS LIVE NOW on AO3

My fiancee and I are writing this fic together. It's long, it has twists and turns, it's sexy, and it's angsty. If you like sapphic ships in AOT and especially if you're a Mikannie, YumiHisu, or MikaHisu girlie, welcome, you'll be extremely fed.

[killerpillar]

from your dearest historia.

[F/F] [G] yumihisu drabble/oneshot, post-canon, afterlife, fix-it (kind of), fluff, growing old, losing memories, reunited, requited love, undying love.

wc: 1176・ ♫ sailor song - gigi perez ・ read on ao3.

. . . . . .

Historia can’t remember the shade of her eyes anymore.

Whether they were the same hue of earth or a faint, chestnut hazel. 

Whether the sunlight made them glow like gold or umber.

Whether her freckles were something she imagined, or if the memory of lying beside her on a concrete rooftop and tracing constellations across her skin was really real.

Maybe it wasn’t real, and she’s just holding on to nothing and hoping it was something.

Maybe she wasn’t real.

(She had to be real.)

(Right?)

Historia names her daughter after her.

Her husband says he likes it. He thinks it's a beautiful name.

Historia agrees. Tells him she thinks it is, too.

But he doesn’t know anything. 

He doesn’t know just how beautiful that name really is.

(It’s not his fault he doesn’t know.)

(She knows it isn’t.)

(But it still makes her bitter.)

Reiner and Connie come to visit. She lets them hold Ymir. 

They ask for her name, and she tells them.

Their faces change. 

They look at her like they pity her. 

Like there’s an apology waiting on the tip of their tongues.

She hates it. 

She hates that look.

But she pretends not to notice.

Mikasa comes too, later. Jean is with her. There’s a ring on both their fingers.

When Mikasa hears her daughter’s name, she doesn’t give Historia that face. Historia realises it’s probably because she’s the only one that understands. 

There’s something else in her eyes. 

Something familiar.

Mikasa tells her the name is fitting.

She comes by more often now. Alone.

They talk. 

They listen.

There’s things they tell each other that they tell no one else. Things nobody else would understand.

Sometimes Historia cries.

Sometimes Mikasa cries.

Most of the time, they do everything they can not to start.

Their kids get along, too. 

Somewhat.

Her daughter is older now. 

Too rowdy for her to hold on her hip.

Historia can’t remember her face anymore.

It’s only her daughter’s face she sees in her mind when she hears Ymir.

Not her’s.

She still dreams about her, though.

It's always fuzzy like her mind can’t decide on whether her skin was always so tan or if her hair was always so dark.

She can’t remember her voice anymore. 

She just remembers that it was something she used to really like hearing. Her voice would wake her up in the mornings. Tell her goodnight before the lights went out. Whisper to her under the covers after dark. Her voice called Historia’s name in a way nobody else’s ever did. 

Historia wishes she could still hear her voice.

Still see her. 

Touch her. 

Feel her.

But she can’t.

She’s not there.

Her husband doesn’t know how to comfort her.

Why would he?

He didn’t know. 

He doesn’t know.

He’s done nothing wrong.

She has.

Historia’s done a lot wrong.

She must have done everything wrong if she can’t even remember her face or her voice or her touch anymore. All the things she swore she’d never forget. The things that she thought were carved and branded into her bones, from how often she’d think about them, replay them over and over in her mind. The things she’d beg and plead and pray she wouldn’t one day forget.

But maybe she can’t blame herself that much.

Even the skies seem blurry to her, nowadays. 

There’s roses in the yard. 

She can’t see far enough to make them out anymore.

Autumn’s colours are dull.

Spring’s breeze feels stale. 

Summer can’t warm her and winter makes no difference.

Historia’s always cold nowadays. 

She spends nearly all her time in that armchair on the front porch, behind a white picket fence her husband had built, and still the sun doesn’t seem to warm her skin like it used to. 

Her daughter came home to introduce the man she was going to marry yesterday.

Or maybe it was last month.

Or last year.

Or maybe it’s already been a decade.

Historia can’t really remember. 

Soon there’s another child on her lap. 

She thinks he looks like Ymir. 

But not her Ymir. 

… her Ymir?

She wonders who her Ymir was.

She remembers she loved her Ymir. 

Loves.

She loves her Ymir.

Yes. 

Her Ymir with the golden eyes and the sunkissed skin and freckled cheeks.

Her Ymir who wrote her the letter with the faded ink and the words she can no longer make out, but somehow still read.

Her Ymir, who wanted to marry her dear Historia.

Yes.

Historia remembers, now.

She murmurs something about her Ymir.

Her daughter answers. 

Historia can’t understand why it feels so wrong to see her daughter’s face and not her.

… Her?

Who?

Her… someone.

She’s forgotten again.

Forgotten…

Who?

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe it was her everything.

She doesn’t know. 

She can’t remember again. 

Historia’s eyes feel heavy.

Everything seems dark

Maybe the sun had set. 

Maybe that's why the lights had all gone out.

Maybe that’s why she can’t feel anything anymore.

Maybe that’s why her fingertips are so numb and cold.

Historia wishes she could see the sun again.

Her sun.

Something featherlight brushes her cheeks. She could’ve mistaken it for the wind, if it hadn’t been for the warmth of the touch.

Historia opens her eyes, and it feels like her first time truly seeing.

She sees colour. 

She sees light.

She can see again. 

It’s golden and beautiful and warm against her skin. She thinks she’s lying on a field of flowers. The grass under her fingertips is soft against her skin. Petals of all the most beautiful colours. The sky is the bluest she remembers it has ever been. 

… She can remember again.

She can breathe with all her lungs again.

She feels young and new again.

She hears a voice call out her name.

For a second, Historia doesn’t understand why her chest grows so tight and why everything seems to fade from around her, just at the sound of it. Why it feels like it’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear. Why there’s heat swelling in her eyes and why everything is going blurry again. 

She turns. 

Amber eyes meet hers. 

Dark hair sways in the wind. 

Freckles like stars pepper her cheeks.

Freckles.

Yes.

Historia remembers now.

How could she ever have forgotten?

Ymir calls her name again.

Historia feels like it's her first time ever hearing her own name.

It was her Ymir. 

Her sun. 

Her lover. 

Her every sin and every happiness. 

Her every mistake and every victory. 

Her Ymir.

Historia takes her hand. 

She tells her Ymir she’s never letting go.

Never again.

Ymir laughs.

Historia’s never heard a sound more beautiful.

She tells her ymir she’s serious and to stop laughing at her, even though Historia wouldn’t mind hearing that laugh on repeat even for aeons.

Ymir manages to stop laughing somehow, smiles, and says she believes her— yes, really, she did.

Tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ears and says she won’t let go of her, either.

Ever again?

Ever again.

.

[aesthetics-asterisk]

Happy Pride Month! 🌈🫶

[skullndaisy]

You ever see gay people?

Now you have.

[no subtitles under cut]

[annawayne]

Day 1 - Cottage core

For AOT WLW/NBLW week on Twitter

[filledugrandsoleil]

🏖🌊 ~ A lovely beach day with you – YumiHisu – YmirxHistoria ~ 🌊⛱️

Ymir and Historia also deserve to go to the sea together and be happy. 🥹💔

I was listening to "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez and Em Beihold and I saw this photograph which has a romantic and sweet atmosphere... I could not resist the idea of drawing Ymir and Historia on the beach and in this pose! 🌸

I am very proud of myself because it is the first digital illustration with a background. I loved drawing them… and this will not be my last illustration representing them because it makes me very happy! ✨️

[imarielo]

I wanted to put Poko as Pieck's angel, but it made me more adorable to put Marcel as Poko's angel.

[gimmygiamblanco]

Historia & Ymir