命も / 夢も — 　戦え 。

ASHES  ,   BURNED    ——         𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭    𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜    𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥   .

[shizekarnstein]

Me: for my birthday I want to see Eren again Isayama :))))

Isayama: sure here you go happy birthday 🙃

NO NOT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[cntritum]

ﾟ 〢    ✕    //      𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃     ⸻       //       ⌜  @erleidn​  ⌟        said   :

gently pokes his cheek. :^)

𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔    𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑦   𝒐𝒖𝒕  𝒐𝒇  𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏  ,        their open mouths  sealing  under the familiarity behind the uncharacteristic touch.    Strange only in how he never grows used to the  heaviness  it brings him.    A clean type of earthiness ;  like that of wood and dew.     Seated nice and wonted on his bones  /   compressing spines  .        Rays of clouded light shut his eyes as quick as he blinks them open again.     Flickering,   like a moving candlestick.     He hears the starting call  /  the dawn chorus outside ;  a soldier’s alarm.     Still new enough in late winter’s weather to notice.   It always was around her birthday.   He swallows a breath of chilled air,  waking himself beyond the stretches and blinks of his adjusting eyes.     her birthday—

A hand reaches up in near-panic,  without thought—   fully alert.   He has her wrist and feels the instinctive twitch at his fingertips.   Panic,  easing to tense  /  unsure.    He uses the faux - grip to jump out of the couch cushions and towards the back of the room,   where he knows his gift is stashed.    His hands fumble at the locks of his chest and he opens it to see a single box in the centre of it:   a plain brown,   tied with discarded red ribbon …    daunting.   teasing.    Just as fast as he set up this determination,   it’s gone.   The fire blown out of him the second he started running with his candle.

He’s scared,    you could say.    More scared than he should be.   The girl would stand by him,   gift or not.    She’d relish in his effort,   good or not.   And yet something grabbed at the heart of him,    squeezing in blood-red agony trickled by the cruel blush of embarrassment over failure.   His skin was hardened and steeled but   strength   doesn’t equate   toughness   and he’s shattering at the weight.    He was going to  try  this year and that was his downfall.    It was listening to Jean when he said she’d want something practical and having Armin say it was more of a care package than a gift.     It was taking Sasha’s advice on making it personal and having to buy a new one when the stitching wouldn’t come out right.    It was asking Historia how to wrap it and deciding on a sealed box instead.   It was the empath and the ego in him fighting  first-to-fist  with a  now-or-never  strike.   Still,    his hand was on it and it’d be a waste to let it rot now…  knowing he only had a few more of these chances left.    Less——  if…  

He bites his lip.    His fingers trickle down on the box and he feels a tingling over his back where he knows she’s watching him.     Confused,   most likely.    Why wouldn’t she be ?     He’s a howling wolf who growls as much as he cowers.    He’s spent his whole life growing fangs for the sake of protecting fragility ;   admonishing his own .     Her tenderness washes him like sewer water.    All they do is prickle blood turn by turn.

❛     I…    ❜       he starts,   and he already tries to rattle his brain for a way to turn that into   What’d you wake me for?   and get out of this forsaken situation.    But here he is,  grip tightening firmly over the side of it and turning his head to face her before his ego could say much else.    Five…. maybe six more chances…  right .

But his eyes can’t quite meet hers when he brings it out.            ❛     It’s your birthday,   and…  I owe you a couple.    ❜       His legs drag him back over the sofa.     He settles down,    elbows leaning over his knees and shoulders weighted by the heat  all over  his body now.            ❛     It’s just a-    ❜       shirt,   he stops himself.   You have to  open  it to find out,   he could nearly hear his mother say,  and it almost brings a smile to his lips.            ❛     It’s dumb.   I was having a hard time over it.   Maybe I’m just too rusty,    ❜       he says,   and it’s probably the most natural he’s sounded all month.    It calms him enough to meet her eyes,   and he’s glad he did.   Even after all these years,  she still felt so impossible to read.    Her eyes,  however,  were always his safest bet ;   and seeing them softens him. 

                                                                                ❛     I’ll do better next year.    ❜

[cntritum]

ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ    :            mikasa      .

                    ❛  … uh, no, that’s not … it,  ❜  gently drags her index over the curve of his cheekbone  –  and  pauses.  ❛  … just an eyelash.  ❜

@cntritum·

𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏               with surprise,   his voice coming back quietly.

                                    ❛     … oh ,   ❜    his eyes fall to where he feels her,  hand reaching to rest over her touch  /  gently.     there’s a jump there—    a skip ;   light hesitation when he catches up with his subconscious.        ❛     could’ve just said so …   ❜

[cntritum]

hey , Eren .................................. *leans close*

                 ❛     ——   ?   ah...  i’ll shave it soon.   ❜

[cntritum]

since when are u and Floch a thing explain

inhales cigar

                            ❛    beggars can’t be choosers ,  mikasa .   ❜

[cntritum]

ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ    :            mikasa      .

𝙎𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙊𝘿𝙎 𝙌𝙐𝙄𝙀𝙏𝙇𝙔, unsure how to proceed, though the feeling  persists  and refuses to subside  –  it lingers in the air between them, tugging and pulling at the tender flesh of her heart, until she can no longer deny the throbbing pain of some old, forgotten wound between her rib-cage, whose stitches always come undone, no matter how many times she tries to mend them. Perhaps this, too, is inevitable  –  perhaps all that is left is the  slow withering  and deconstruction of things once comforting and familiar to her. The mere thought leaves a bitter taste on the tip of her tongue, but Mikasa decides not to dwell on it. At least,  not now. 

                    ❛  … yeah,  ❜  She adds after a short pause, her eyes on the grey horizon  –  it was indeed how Armin had described it when they were only children, though over time, they had come to the realisation that the sea didn’t symbolize the  freedom  they so desperately had hoped for. A long, weary sigh escapes her lips.  ❛  … this wouldn’t have been possible, without you.  ❜

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒊𝒏  𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕  𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔  𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚——               and it’s a feeling he’s grown all too acquainted with.  The presence of its looming figure,  making a new cage of its billow  /  its brume  /  or ghosts.   A manifestation of his virtue  unkind  :   met with nothing but a voice he knows too well saying all he wants to hear.     Wanted—  knowing,   asking ,  if he will he still hear it   /   years from now ,  days   /   however long they have left.   He swallows down on the undeserving,   face hidden in his heaviness  /  subdued.   Just above his knee,   where his arm rests,   he breathes an echo of her statement.        ❛    Me ,   huh   …    ❜

him :  who had asked long ago how he played in the eradication of monsters with the blood of one itself.     A  hazard  /  fuming,  ready to rightfully burn to a crisp.   His hand falls to the side,   and he feels his fingers curl against its skin.   It’s been a while,  hasn’t it ?   Since the callouses inside his palm were met with the match of his nails.          ❛    I   …    ❜     His voice is barely formed.     Not  tender ,  but unaccustomed.   He brings his eyes up again to find that familiarity he’d almost been scared to see in Mikasa’s gaze  /  her loyalty,  understanding  /  that rested midnight.     It’s a moment before he finishes his thought,  feeling too close  /  clustered,  face tightening as it turns away.        ❛      …   wouldn’t be here at all,  if it weren’t for you,   either.   ❜

[cntritum]

ﾟ 〢    ✕    //      𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄     ⸻       //       ⌜  accepting   /   @traeumeri​  ⌟        asked   :

❛ all i’ve ever wanted to be was useful ❜

𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒆             /     atrous  fate  dripping  cramoisie.     that forgotten fury wraps over him like a smoldering blade,   molded to the crook of his wits ;   that awful  bend  where his heart should be.   where it must be—  but you can’t hear it.   not anymore.   not under the song of early morning’s vapour,   bleeding orange in dawn’s light.   casting nothing but shadow over you both.

no—    there’s nothing for you to hear anymore .   what once fed a steady melody now bleeds nothing but silence through the wind’s heavy howl.    beneath it,   the ocean only weeps by your  tandem .    he is the moon  &  he pulls the tide.      your dam’s been  constructed  from branches piled through the years.     contrived by the decade.      words upon words of reassurance and hope :   all he ever knew to provide .       music woven by the sheer will of his fire.       a constant call to action.      he is an unstoppable force————    but you are no immovable object .

you :  docile  /  fragile ,  seen malleable as you have always been.       he’d pushed for your strength outside of your words and now all he sees is what becomes of you without them.   without him .   a single cast of his will and you’re shipwrecked,   twisted to lost bits of driftwood spread across a vast,   wide open sea.      eyes  lost ,   looking for what went wrong.    why you couldn’t  see  the fissures in darkness before.    you are destined to lose yourself no matter how long you search for every last piece of debris.    as if wood could never  look  like more than paper.     pages of painted stories beyond your own imagination .   of monsters in the lagoons you’d never seen,   spinning rites of passage beyond those of your kind.

you  were the one who saw a lesson in every tale.    you  were the one who saw knowledge in those books.  you  were the one who read about the songs of the ocean.   and now you are the one to face everything he’s tuned through this twisted cacophony.

                   ❛     well ,   armin  …       ?    ❜           he looks up from the shadow of his eyes,  a flash of unplaceable tension in their grit.            ❛     were you   ?   ❜

they warned you not to play with sirens .

                                                                                     maybe next time ,    𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙  𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛  .

[cntritum]

ﾟ 〢    ✕    //      𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃     ⸻       //       ⌜  @avvem​  ⌟        asked   :

... Mr. Krüger, I brought you an ice-cream. :'^)

❛    ℎ𝑚   … ?    ❜     𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒆 ,   eye on the treat before him  /  cold,  deformed  /  melted in the time it must have taken to get here.     He sits,   silent ;   expression frozen on the gesture.   A flash over the hand  /  small,  delicate,  squealing ecstasy.   (   no,  it’s  melting !  )    another hands reaches out ,  from his own body    (   eat it fast,  faye⸻⸺—                   try some too,  eren  ) .   He blinks.   His hand mimicked the memory,  and he draws it only over the side of the cone,  where a drop was sliding off its side.       ❛     …  I’m not very hungry.   ❜     He tells him,  curling a finger up to catch a snow - white trickle of it.   He brings a taste of it to his lips ,  a slight acceptance ,  but he can’t bring himself to accept any more.        ❛     But thank you,   Falco.    You should enjoy it yourself before it melts.   ❜

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I waited in the dark for something not quite human—and all too human—to begin.

Zadie Smith, from “Windows on the Will,” published c. March 2016. (via carnavage)

[kuchenackerman]

Eren the Bishōnen

[cntritum]

ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ    :            mikasa      .

                    ❛  … is something … wrong ?  ❜  She crosses the short distance between them until she stands beside him, her shoulder briefly brushing against his.  ❛  You’ve been … quiet lately. More so than usual.  ❜

/  @cntritum​​​

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕  ;               that dull ache   /   of how the shores hit approaching waves,   carried by the firm pull of their breeze.   The  cadence  carries him into a lull of melancholy.   suffocation.   His thoughts are flooded and bare all at once,   and he snaps only when a voice breaks the steady ambience.    

                   His eyes are on hers for only a moment   /   wide in surprise,   but dissipating just as quick as she seemed to have approached.        ❛    No   …    ❜     he answers,   looking off into the sea again.    They’d never been great liars ,   neither of them.   But somehow it’d grown natural,  now.   Her touch calls for his attention a moment and Eren never moves—   beyond his breaths—   to avoid it.   She smelled less of salt than even the sand,   and somehow that made it feel better.   The silence begins again,   soothing  /  palatable  /  abhorred.        ❛     …  I’m still not used to it.   ❜     He ends up saying,   eyes lifting to the horizon.        ❛     The sea.   ❜

[cntritum]

SHAPE OF YOUR PAIN  .

flowers    —      your pain takes the shape of flowers,   or something else  beautiful  &  free .    you can't help but see what you don't have in the beautiful thing,   can't help but feel pain as you see what you're missing out on.    maybe you even wish that you could just be happy and surround yourself in flowers,   but you can't,   because each time you see them it's like a reminder of the empty hole you carry.      they say that pain is beauty... right ?

tagged by :  no one i stole it from my levi tagging :   i have like 6 followers and im p sure all of u got tagged dont be greedy

[phantomemes]

starters  /  prompts taken from hieu minh nguyen’s work ,  not here .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses as necessary .

  ❛  it seems important to mention all the things that went wrong  ❜

  ❛  don’t ask if i’m a ghost  ❜

  ❛  i fled and did not return  ❜

  ❛  i cannot love you  ,  if i love you  ,  i will die  ❜

  ❛  for years i chose death  ❜

  ❛  i belong to my mother’s fear  ❜

  ❛  what do you do with tenderness when all you expect is fury ?  ❜

  ❛  he looks like he will keep you safe  ❜

  ❛  any love i find will be treason  ❜

  ❛  why did you bring me here ?  ❜

  ❛  i count the hornets that escape their mouths  ❜

  ❛  i only ask for your laughter  ❜

  ❛  look at me in the old way in this new light  ❜

  ❛  sometimes i wake up and my body does not follow  ❜

  ❛  it wasn’t the same without you  ❜

  ❛  i’m still trying to figure out what it means to stay  ❜

  ❛  it’s all very predictable  ❜

  ❛  how can i love something that isn’t ruined ?  ❜

  ❛  like all agony  ,  there are pleasant moments  ❜

  ❛  i want to be better at lying  ❜

  ❛  i’m afraid if i say it out loud i will cast a curse  ❜

  ❛  some men don’t know they’re hungry until they eat  ❜

  ❛  some spells take years to cast  ❜

  ❛  there are rules you have to follow if you want to survive  ❜

  ❛  i know you’re not supposed to smile back  ❜

  ❛  madness  ,  too  ,  can be cumulative  ❜

  ❛  trying to forget is not the same as leaving  ❜

  ❛  i really should get a sense of humor  ❜

  ❛  i understand no one  ❜

  ❛  i cannot stop him from disappearing  ❜

  ❛  her body was a dress i hung for motivation  ❜

  ❛  you were once and perhaps continue to be the myth you tell to scare yourself  ❜

  ❛  there are countless ways to justify company  ❜

  ❛  you are predictable in your longing  ❜

  ❛  i don’t want to explain a thing  ❜

  ❛  i knew if i just asked him to leave he would have  ❜

  ❛  there are countless ways to open a carcass  ❜

  ❛  all i’ve ever wanted to be was useful  ❜

  ❛  there’s still time to be saved  ❜

  ❛  shut up  ;  i know the story  ,  or at least the lesson  ❜

  ❛  you wont find it  ;  you won’t find whatever you’re looking for  ❜

  ❛  i could get away with being clumsy with knives  ❜

  ❛  i want to study the mechanics of leaving  ❜

  ❛  any adjective can be true if you cry hard enough  ❜

  ❛  i see little futures in the distance but none belong  ❜

  ❛  i am beginning to forget what i expect from the world i always knew  ❜

  ❛  you can’t think of regret as a town you move too when grief snores too loud  ❜

  ❛  in death we belong to everyone  ❜

  ❛  i want to return to my old body  ❜

  ❛  i think the life i want is the life i have  ,  but how can i be sure ?  ❜

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. October 1931 featured in “The Diaries of Virginia Woolf,”

[jiji-de-jiji]

[cntritum]

EREN   NO   I   EEE   GAA