brimstone

take my hands, they'll understandtake my heart, pull it apartand take my brains, they get in the way. 'cause i've grown tired of this bodycumbersome and heavy body.

[maleficute]

SNK icon multi upload.

☆✮ and the walls kept tumblin’ down             in the city that we lo-o-o-o-oove☆✮

++++++ consider this a formal apology for being so behind on requests! decided to make a BUNCHA icons before i get to those specific requests. SO. here we go. big pack right here: 221 icons. let’s do it

✗ 13 annie ✗ 21 armin ✗ 20 bertholdt ✗ 7 christa ✗ 4 connie ✗ 32 eren ✗ 5 hanji ✗ 1 hitch ✗ 9 irvin ✗ 36 jean ✗ 16 levi ✗ 21 marco ✗ 14 mikasa ✗ 1 nanaba ✗ 8 reiner ✗ 6 sasha ✗ 4 ymir ✗ 3 bonus

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[vehament-blog1]

   Response rapid and fueled by a rush of unexpected adrenaline, Eren’s form goes rigid as he swings around, hues locked on the visage of the taller boy, and immediately forces himself to calm from his momentary panic, hands reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as he sits down.

   ”I’m fine. Just remembered something that would have been helpful earlier," he assured, little off-put by the gaze fixated on him. "What’re you doin’ here, anyhow?”

[verrater]

    He's slow in labeling it unfortunate that he beckons that brand of response often, eyelids dropping into a more monotonous, calm glance; doesn't help much in lingering any cause of worry, he rationalizes, fingernails picketing on loose hangings of flesh off their respective beds.

    "Alright." A lithe shrug. If it was a competition in passive motions he'd succeed in haste. "You just seemed..." Seconds pass and he doesn't dare resurrect the forgotten fragment of a recently started phrase, open palms raised to rub under his eyes. "I think I left a sweater in here. The rooms have gotten cold, it's, ah--... impossible to sleep without it."

[femaletitantype]

          Wounded pride is not a concept she understands or undertakes in the purchase of heels into muck, grinding against the earth like unto a mortar and pestle. There is no folly in defeat, only a lesson to etched against the dusting marrow of a skull sparsely damaged by broader fist, and she welcomes it tirelessly though with a grimace to quirk against lips in stretching pain. Scarlet stains her teeth, porcelain cracked together from gnashing in behemoth hellfire, and it’s the iron she tastes upon her tongue before spitting it’s life venom to the ground.

          Fingers move quickly up, catching the spill from her nose in slight droplets, crinkling agains the itching heal of flesh knotting back together subversively. It had been true enough that she did not take him seriously at the time, perhaps from all the fuss he put forth in his guise for the sake of skittering mankind. A fool to under-estimate for certain, he had little effort in evading even the shallowest of her movements precisely placed in harmonic destruction. She had aimed to break his bones, rend him from limb and socket, but perhaps luck deigned to push away from her gilded favor and into his. Again.  

          A snarl, gritted maws,”—Tch, so much good it does me." Bones crack and settle beneath flesh, a sickening pop resounding as her nose displaces itself from a perverse bend. "And you call yourself weak. Bullshit.”

[verrater]

      Strangely capricious is the sensation running up his wrists in the fatigued peace reaching, a bullet of doubt prompting cold digits to curl before stretching their full length. The mask hanging off the worn frown vanquishes any sign of humility in place of its melancholic, partially jittery stare, nervousness to even ask a question only relevant in how quickly his pupils dilate; the lack of natural light given the time of day does anything but assist the deep, hollow holes conquering blank greenery.

      The ambiguous breath whistling through tightly clenched teeth aids his secretive examination of sustained injuries; he's a mess, filthy, the reality weighing down slumped shoulders-- probably pinching him as more cumbersome than any jolts of pain quaking along abused muscles, a poisonous gaze finding only fault in the dirt under his nails. Briefly he dismantles the situation as an inaccurate portrayal of humanity; dirty faces, bruised skin, stained teeth. His thumb twitches in a boycotted move to touch her jaw, her fangs. A soiled mane of his precarious wolf.

      "I'm not weak." It's uttered as plainly as his face sinks, knees being used as pedestals beneath exhausted elbows. He should be more uncomfortable sitting in such an untidy slouch. "Unmotivated to prove otherwise. Do you need help walking back?"

[vehament-blog1]

   A soft sigh tumbles over tan lips, expression drawn in something akin to worry as digits worked ceaselessly at the worn hem of a tawny jacket, rubbing incessantly over the material that slipped between his fingers. “Well, shit.”

[verrater]

      A harsh majority of his reflexes scream out for his head not to turn in response to the quiet uttering to his left. Unfortunately enough for his lack of social dictation the moment of withholding a stance of ignorance expires, dual forests locked behind his unintentionally eerie gaze settling down on the shorter.

      "Are you alright?" Often times he wonders if his mumbling is too solemn to hear, the worry fading away as he confirms the atmosphere still enough for even the tiniest sound to blow through.

[femaletitantype]

[femaletitantype]

          Pooling acid settled in her stomach, a harsh toxic sensation formerly rising in her throat at the acute twangs of white-heat agony that burned along her skin. A hiss leaves bloodied lips, chewed from teeth and knuckles alike while limber and wobbly legs drag a bruised, broken shell of a body in the process of knitting. She’d heal momentarily, the etches of imprints from kicks and jabs still staining her skin with speckles of lifeblood would take nary a day longer, unless she deigned to draw attention to herself.  

          “— That could have gone better."  The pillar had reach on her, that had been for certain, if noted by the cracking click of her jaw.

[verrater]

      Immediately after the fact he feels tension and guilt pooling around sullied knuckles, his fingertips kneading relentlessly into an unstable, non-melodic pattern. Despite knowing better-- all too better, to the point of it almost being a cheat flamed into the clockwork of their flesh-- he can't shake feeling terribly phased, his unconventionally solid skill in the art of deflecting and shoving blows suddenly a grounds of shame. The lack of calamity found in the stale breeze of air frightens him back into reality. She's fine; will be fine. Alarms had no place going off; and yet he stands dejected, fidgeting, hollow all through the bones in his arms at the sound of her jaw.

      However, there's never room for apology through times of unrest and he's not one to break the mold verbally. His hand extends in some form of primitive gesture. "You're a lot faster than me." He holds his balance without so much as a blink, maintaining the status of a statue. "But I have an obvious advantage."

[verrater]

++ TRYING TO WRITE A RESPONSE AND GET BACK INTO RP ON HERE BUT THEN FINDING OUT A FUCKGIN BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF ART WAS BASED ON SOMETHING YOU CO-WROTE MORE LIKE THROW ME DOWN ON THE HARD CEMENT FLOOR AND BEAT ME SENSELESSLY WITH A THICK ANIMAL PELT

... -- on that note if anyone would like a starter/would like to thread pls let me know i am gonna be here tonight ! yay. brb though legit going to light myself on fire i'm still in disbelief!

[verrater]

☯, ✎, [ and i lied. we're not getting a divorce. ]

☯: For something that keeps my muse calm in a moment of weakness.

    > naturally spared for use outside of combat is his habit of daydreaming, for lack of a better word. most people who’d known him even briefly were likely to pick up on his tendency to stare off into space. piled-on thoughts of both anxiety and guilt crowd in his mind to the point of some brand of human hibernation; he looks sleepy, unmotivated. sometimes sad— it goes without saying. an already unbalanced posture falls a little. oftentimes he wishes that it came equipped with the power to stop time. it’s as close as he can emulate it.

✎: For two confessions from my muse to yours.

    > “I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself forward another step if you hadn’t been holding onto my hand. Sometimes I wish you weren’t, but— I know the result would’ve come anyway, a different road, and it would have taken longer. Maybe with someone else if they’d gotten rid of me for being a coward. I regret the necessity daily but can’t even… begin telling you how big your shoulders were to me that day. It was horrible. Thank you.”    > “I saw Reiner using your soap once. I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier but felt weird. I still feel weird. I hope you don’t use that soap.”

[gimmememesnowx]

Send me a

[verrater]

✉: For one thing no one else knows. ✎: For two confessions from my muse to yours. ♥: For three people I could never live without. ϟ: For four turn ons regarding your muse. ☂: For five things that make my muse sad. ★: For my muse’s biggest accomplishment. ∞: For something/someone I love infinitely. ☯: For something that keeps my muse calm in a moment of weakness. ♪: For my muse’s theme song.

[verrater]

[ ++ I'M NOT DELETING THAT TO REPOST IT. TOO BAD. NOT MY FAULT. ]

[verrater]

Smooth motions of lithe fingers move upward to grip at wilted lapels of a dress-shirt wrinkled over time, pulling hard and down upon purchase of cloth betwixt digits. A tilt of a chin and an annoyed murmur cross her mouth before coral tiers press momentary affection to a broad jawline, teeth snipping out a light nip against the corner of a familiar mouth in tender and teased affections. "-- That's for ignoring me these past few days, moron," she hisses, lapis lazuli hues hooded in heated gaze.

    "-- ignore is a HARSH word, I didn't--"

    The rest of his garbled yet eloquently hushed speech is fizzled out to a pathetic whisper, the olives of his cheeks lighting a bland rose. It was a staring contest he'd already resigned himself to losing indefinitely. Crystal oceans take over his cowled greens like a cakewalk. "That kind of hurt..." He lazily proclaims it without so much as a tender wipe with the tips of his fingers, all of which dropping back down to fold in his lap.

    I missed you too, Annie. That's what the stinging means. Why can't you ever... say nice things. He debates verbalizing it tirelessly but decides, again, it's both better left unsaid and unanswered-- the pecks in haste being more broad a sentiment than words could ever be in their unique situation to begin with. What's even less prideful is that shitty smile he wears if only briefly hugged along tight-pressed lips.

[verrater]

++ ; aaa i really hate doing this buuut. since i've been a bit inactive for a while i'm in that weird stage where i don't know who is active and who tO TALK TO. or who to follow!!

so if any of you wanted to do me a favour and either recommend some SNK rp blogs to follow or... even just reblog this if you are an SNK blog and were open to doing some stuff even! both would really help out. thank you!!

[femaletitantype]

Vision cascades in rivulets of morbid intrigue fallen towards the slight notion of a nod, sealing and washing over effectively tightly bound appendage. An upturned nose crinkled with a smidgen of disappointment is all she supplies to him, not at his only folly but the carelessness to allow it to happen in the first stroke of thought.

 ”… You shouldn’t be standing on it." Timbre laces itself with a sloughed combination of annoyance and affection, colliding with worry than hangs on each note. Only for him do words as such tumble from parted coral tiers. Only for him does she shed any semblance of harsh pretense. "— Does it hurt?”

[verrater]

  His lips quake, both of them caked in the texture of miniature earthquakes as they tap together, bound and restricted from uttering a sound until the remedial clearing of his throat made some progress. The emptiness that he swallows is thick, however, and it's a shame to stare so atrociously frightened at a girl half his height and one quarter his weight.

  "It doesn't hurt... a lot. Not as much as it did-- yesterday. It's getting better. Quickly." His nose and lips form a concise triangle of a pout, eyes trained downward on the appendage; thick as his self-disgust may be there was some sanity behind its birth. "But I can walk on it, so, it's okay. How're you?"

[kandaem]

i’ve been stressed out and in a really bad mood the last couple of days so i drew my favorite soldiers to cheer me up

[femaletitantype]

“— I’m not ‘a lot of people’, remember? Whatever. Between you and Reiner both being gone for awhile, I assumed you went and died on the latest expedition. Suppose it’s good that you hadn’t.” 

[verrater]

  "... that's true. It was a bleak attempt at teasing that, uh... ended prematurely. Just-- probably better to forget it. Entirely." A brief nod. "Assuming death is all too fortunate, haha." That tastes bitter on his lips; "-- er, no. We're okay. I sprained my..."

  As opposed to completing the sentence in its entirety he gestures his nose downward, frowning inconspicuously at his left leg now coiled in a rough-looking bandage.

[femaletitantype]

“Don’t whine. What? Did you expect me to hug you for a greeting instead?" 

[verrater]

    "A lot of people say things like 'hello'. Or... various other greetings, depending on the region..."

[verrater]

   "-- I just cleaned these boots."

[verrater]

/kicks dirt on shoes and leaves

   "Thanks, Annie... I was wondering what I was missing lately around here, but that clarified, and I feel a lot better now."