in chains

half in the shadows / half burned in the flames.

[spentfaith-moved]

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓   —  this is an independent, highly selective & literate multimuse rp blog. this blog contains muses from snk, jjk, mha & other misc media. 18+ only please. au, oc & crossover friendly!! 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲. she/her. australian.   please read rules & mutuals feel free to send a meme at any stage!

[spentfaith-moved]

bonjour y’all, as u can see by my url i am in the process of archiving this blog and making a new one! i will be moving over all current threads (so long as u guys want it to be continued!) AND im going to be super fucking annoying and move porco and pieck there, too. The move for them may be temporary depending on how my time frees up in the new year (or if it doesnt lol) cause lord knows im a hoe and cant help myself but have a single blog, but i will keep you all in the loop regardless!

[spentfaith-moved]

Once again bitterly disappointed with my Spotify wrapped

[spentfaith-moved]

Armin Arlert 🤥

[spentfaith-moved]

The feminine urge to archive all three blogs and form one super blog is very strong today

[spentfaith-moved]

Peace and love guys, I’m going to be very awol this weekend! ❤️

[spentfaith-moved]

Me laying here double lathered in fake tan pretending like I have the brain cells to write

[spentfaith-moved]

❛ 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕. ❜    fearne & opal,  @feybled​

Opal had never been much of a deep sleeper, staying up late despite her better judgment and would wake at the sound of a simple twig snapping. But now? With all these added anxieties and the ever haunting question mark that outlined the existence (or, lack thereof) of her sister, Opal found herself stirring at something as simple as someone shifting in their sleep. Just like tonight, where she’d sat almost bolt-upright from her half-curled sleeping position to face the faun, brows knotting in the moonlight, her simple question - are you alright? - met with an equally simple answer. She should have known better by now. 

Without missing much of a beat, Opal had shuffled herself closer to Fearne with a soft and very purposefully guided hand going to stroke some of the misplaced sage tendrils that had fallen during her restlessness.  “Sounded worse than that.”  For once, Opal’s voice was soft. It’s normal vigour and emphasis traded for something soothing and sweet. She had been here before, not with Fearne, but with Ted. Stroking her sister’s hair to guide her back to the realm of sleep, she didn’t know if it would work as well for Fearne as it did her sister, but she could only try. 

“You totally sounded like you were freaking out or something. I kinda thought you were being attacked.”  A gentle rumble of a laugh, but it felt hollow at best. Hoping the veil of the night would hide the concern that laced every inch of her skin, hoped it could be read as something more optimistic than it was at heart.   “I have them sometimes too. The uh, nightmares I mean. Have this recurring one where someone like completely massacres all of Byroden.”   The lightest of the nightmares she’d had was offered between them, as though maybe Fearne could relate to whatever scary story that nightmare seemed to be based off of. 

Shifting, Opal sinks a little further against the ground next to Fearne, propping herself up on her elbow beside the druid. She blinks, chews the inside of her lip and wonders if anyone else has woken up to the sound of their little exchange, or if whoever was on watch had found nothing better to do than eavesdrop. “I can stay close until you sleep if you want? I used to for Ted when she would have nightmares and she’d do the same for me. S’okay if you wanna be alone, too. I totally won’t be offended.”

[spentfaith-moved]

happy birthday to loml shouta aizawa <3

[spentfaith-moved]

bonjour all, i am popping in here once again to apologise for me being not here ic/replying much. work has just been a Lot atm and i’m kind of drained from it all. this week we are short staffed again  bc we love covid related issues in the end of 2021 <3 im hoping this weekened/next week will be kinder bc i miss writing god dang 😭

[piichtart]

happy late birthday my love <3

[spentfaith-moved]

i feel like it’s a given but armin post?? rts pretty much doesn’t give a shit about his birthday, he’d rather everyone just treat it as another day and move on <3

[spentfaith-moved]

gives the bday boy a kiss on the head and cheeks <3 ( also made his favorite meal because he will not leave anywhere hungry )

@atenden being the mvp adopted mother for the birthday boy <3

Armin flushes at the gesture, his cheeks warming and an almost nervous smile breaches his features as he sits up at the table. Their table, not that of his own family’s, of course. Legs swinging freely in the airspace between the chair and the floor, he looks to Carla and can only offer her an incredibly sincere “Thank you Mrs Yaeger.” before he shoves a spoonful of the pie into his mouth.

[spentfaith-moved]

GEPANZRT​.

“So— this is the place.” 

A kinder man may keep his derision to himself, may hold his tongue between his teeth before it begins to wag too much. In his more charitable moments, Reiner likes to think that he is a kind man — has the capacity to be, at least. Grace is something he can give out in spades if he has a mind to; he dispenses compassion easily to the children, to those he holds close, the man he shares his bed with; but what he’s lost the touch for is the ability to be patient. He cannot confess to anything other than apathy as he gazes up at the tree, now laid bare in the chill of winter. Reiner coughs, tastes something metallic on his tongue as he swallows.

“You look about as good as I feel, y’know.” Which is to say, you look like shit. He hadn’t quite known what to think of Armin when he’d first laid eyes on him again, when he’d taken stock of the differences that four years can make. He’d wondered — still wonders, actually — if it makes the younger man sick: the carnage that he’d enabled, the way his most beloved friend had turned killer, the taste of Bertholdt’s blood between his teeth. 

That’s what this is about. Reiner isn’t going to pretend any differently. The memory of his friend, of this lost world they’d endeavored to protect, makes his blood curdle. How does it feel, to know that Eren has been taken from you? How does it feel to know that you are just alone as I was?

“You should come with me.” It is a backhanded invitation, one that he offers as he gazes at the stone. A very pretty grave, he thinks — such a kind inscription, such a peaceful place to lay a man to rest. How many people trampled by eren would have loved such a burial? How many of those lost in the Rumbling would have been glad to have a tree to rest beneath? There are no bodies left to bury, no trees to inter them near. All is dust and carrion — except for here, of course. How lucky for them, that there is still an island to live upon. 

Give him enough drinks to fill his bladder, and he’d probably relieve himself on the headstone. 

“To the lake in Shiganshina. You know the one — the crater that Bertholdt made.” Reiner tips his head to the side, watches as his breath condenses between them. “I visit it on his birthday. Did you know that it’s coming up soon?” No, I suppose you wouldn’t. 

“I’m sure you can spare some time.”

No amount of time could be allowed to heal the wounds that Armin had created for Reiner. If anything, Armin’s existence only served to sprinkle salt and rub some dirt within them. Reiner speaks of the crater as though it’s something Armin should respect, remember fondly just as he does. As though the crater wasn’t something that killed thousands and upturned his very own life, as though the crater served as a memorial of sorts. Armin understood it, though. How many times had he knelt before that tree, his tree, and longed for the memory of a man who had killed more people than any of them combined? 

Armin wondered if people flock to the crater he’d forced into the earth at the harbour of Liberio, begging for the memory of those they had lost, too. His tongue remained bitten between his teeth. Now was not the time to belittle one other. No matter how deliciously the words danced upon his tongue, coated his mouth with extra saliva and sated his palette. 

“Is it?” A question that needed no response. It took Armin briefly off-guard, he would admit. For years he’d be haunted by the ghost of Bertholdt, held hostage within his own brain, lulled to sleep with stories of both beauty and horror. At one point, Armin felt as though he was more Bertholdt than he was Armin. He’d let the other invade everything, filling every pore of his skin, every regenerating decay within his teeth. Two become one and yet? Something as trivial as a birthday had never been known. That, he supposed, was the difference between being loved by Bertholdt and being possessed by him. 

“I’ve got time.” More time than he knew what to do with. More time that he could spend aching and slowly decaying, wishing he’d been left to his own wounds on that fatal day. “I’ve been to see it more times than I would like to admit.” Confessed, but during those darkened times before the rumbling, Armin found himself by the crater, or upon the wall where Bertholdt, Reiner and Zeke had camped those seldom few days. He felt drawn to it. When no one else had his back, Bertholdt did. Or well, the ghost of him did, he supposed. Their relationship was complex, host and invader. Murderer and victim. Friend and foe alike. 

But when he looked at Reiner, he knew whatever was between him and Bertholdt was leaps and bounds ahead of whatever complexity Armin thought he had. Something in him felt sympathetic, he knew what it was like. All too well. “How old would he have been?”

[spentfaith-moved]

the way i wanna unspooky my blog and make it obnoxiously seasonal

[spentfaith-moved]

Happy birthday Armin Fartlert.

He sits, he ponders. He turns his whole body to Reiner before "Thanks, big tits."

[spentfaith-moved]

Shifter marks being like… literal wounds. Painful to an extent, bloody when u touch em, u know the vibes