somebody inside me, has always tried to be nobody

He has a shadow these days. Or he is a shadow. The roles swing on a pendulum. Sometimes he walks stiff and orderly on the Captain’s heels. Other times he is aware of the headsman’s axe held over his neck. Of the piercing gaze his childhood hero turned potential executioner bores into his back. But these were the conditions of his ‘freedom’. To never be alone and yet slowly smothered into isolation. The boy he was, Eren Jaeger, no longer exists. He is immaterial. Reduced to a concept, an idea, a tool, a weapon, an experiment. The gamble that may never pay off…

He sits at the table with the others while they eat and he mimes at being normal. A mimic to their actions. Spoon to bowl, to his mouth, pause to chew, swallow. They talk amongst themselves. They talk around him. When it is to him, it is a question. More probing. Wariness and suspicion. The knife used to carve up and portion out slices of tough bread sits promisingly near a waiting hand.

Each bite only adds to the heavy weight in his stomach. Eld watches the tremble in his fingers. Eren pretends he doesn’t notice how Petra stiffens a fraction when his cup snaps too sharply against the table. He stuffs his apologies under another mouthful of stew even as it all threatens to come roiling back up again.

One by one they scrape their bowls clean, not a bit wasted, and one by one they bid the Captain good night. They will retire to their rooms and lay there, restless, waiting for the walls to come tumbling down around them.

Eren sinks back into his chair, half-empty bowl pushed far enough away the scent of boiled vegetables and broth can’t churn at his stomach. When he retires tonight, it will be under the final watch of the Captain, and he will listen to the solid turn of the lock in his basement door, the slowly retreating footsteps up the stairs. He never thought he would ache with longing for the cramped bunks shared with dozens of other boys. Or that all their annoying snores and the dismal groaning of old bed supports would be so preferable a memory to the deafening silence and the thud of his lone heartbeat.

A gamble. Another bet they’d risk everything for, the existence of the Survey Corps, for one temperamental boy, whose heart was as dangerous and unpredictable as wandering in titan territory, risking all their lives — for the promise he carried, to be the key to the truth of their absurd world. His choices were to define his future, the future, all their fates lying in his hands. Would he become the hope of humanity, the real wings of freedom, or a beast Levi would eventually have to put to rest ?

He was always watching him. As if transparent, he knew what suffocated him long before it did, what questions troubled him, long before he spoke. Levi was sipping the last of his tea, waiting for Eren to finish his meal, legs crossed, leaning back on his chair. Sharp eyes fell on the half-empty bowl, expecting some petty excuse, or to finally speak of what has been on the boy’s mind all this long.

He was surprisingly timid in his presence, their presence, those he deemed to hold real power. Despite his show of arrogance in the court, he seemed to hold respect for his superiors — or possibly fear, these often intertwined. He didn’t mistake situational obedience for submission. Levi hadn’t grown foolish enough to believe such a beast could be tamed, certain none could, and the reason there was no alternative to killing him. Familiar to his nature, as if recognizing someone else in him, someone from the past, when his eyes once held the same burning rage for the life he claimed was his own. His duty, to subdue such destructive force, contain the damage they were certain he’d bring, to a minimum.

❝ It wasn't my decision. ❞ Disturbingly honest at most times, for this rare occasion he had spoken half the truth, only the truth he wasn't part of— a force of habit, to conceal anything connected to his true nature. It wasn’t his decision, his choice, for he had long agreed to take part in all of Erwin’s unreasonable gambles. The Commander didn’t need to order him, and yet, Levi had volunteered out of his own free will. As if drawn to him, he had volunteered, for he hadn’t seen such a creature before.

A creature having survived another massacre, witnessed indescribable horrors, the mortification of humanity, who was still possessed with such passion to fight, to counterattack. FREEDOM. A burning desire for freedom he had seen in those eyes, an insatiable and raging fire, burning bright even in the darkness of the dungeon where they had first met him, even behind the bars of a cell. Chained, treated like a monster, like the monsters who threatened their extinction, yet he burnt with rage, to get free of these restraints and give his battle.

Disappointing was Levi's response, but he never intended to satisfy a teenager’s insecurities and doubts, for such emotions were ephemeral and would vanish as rapidly as his years of youth and innocence, when the endless battles would have worn him out, and he wouldn’t any longer afford to pay mind to the beating of own heart. ❝ This was the first time humanity won a battle against titans. ❞ Not him called humanity’s strongest, nor any of Erwin’s strategies, had ever brought a victory. ❝ The Survey Corps took a chance on you. ❞ Impersonal. ❝ Many people have their eyes on you. Make sure not to disappoint them, brat. ❞

Basics.

When did you first start writing?

In what language did you start writing?

If your mother tongue is not the language you write now, what caused you to switch languages?

What was the first muse that you’ve written?

Do you still write your first muse?

What is the muse that you write for the longest?

In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?)

What caused you to start writing? What was your key point?

Do you regret starting writing?

Is there anything you would have changed when you started writing now that you have more experience?

Do you tell your friends / family that you write?

How do you describe writing / rp to others?

On what platform did you start to write?

Canon Muses.

What is your favorite canon muse?

Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

Are you happy with how your favorite canon muse was portrayed in canon?

How far do go with divergencies when it comes to your canon muse?

OCs.

Who was your first OC?

Do you still write your first OC?

Who is your favorite OC?

How would you describe your favorite OC?

Do you have developed dynamics with the OC of another mun that has influenced your OC or Canon muse?

How do you create an OC? What are your steps for developing an OC?

FC or story first when you develop an OC?

Fandoms.

In what fandom did you start?

What is your favorite fandom in which you write?

Is there any fandom you regret exploring?

Have you ever developed an OC for a certain fandom?

Ships.

What are you looking for in a ship?

Do you tend to focus on shipping or do you not care at all?

Have you ever developed a ship based on writing with a certain other character / mun?

Have you ever started to ship a rare-pair?

What are rare-pairs that you’re passionate about?

Do you plot a ship or see where it goes?

What are your favorite ships on here (feel free to tag?)

Do you ship someone’s muses on your dash?

Tumblr.

What are the trends when it comes to writing that you adore?

What are trends when it comes to writing that you dislike?

What trend would you wish to see on here?

What was your first blog / URL?

Do you still have your first blog / URL?

What’s something you find weird on here?

What’s something you wish to improve?

What are your biggest (personal) Tumblr crushes?

What people make you happy when you see them on the dash?

What are things that you don’t wish to see on here?

What are things you wish people would tag so you can block it?

super lazy promo for an independent, highly selective, low energy dual rp blog! featuring!! levi ackerman && eren jaeger from attack on titan! nsfw themes present! mun is 25+! oc & crossover friendly! 🖤 loved by tiff! she/they! cst!

stolen from a comment on youtube:

Bertholdt is told he has been in Paradisian custody for ten months. Emaciated and haggard, he bears the signs of his redemption on his body. There are scars on his skin, for the first time. There are holes in his mind that have been punched in by Commander Hange. Ten months of suffering is nothing, of course, compared to the pain he brought to these people. Ten months of rot and screaming, what does that amount to? No, if Bertholdt wants to live at all, then he must offer more. —He has offered. After months in darkness, starved and beaten and pissed on, Bertholdt finally began to talk. And he didn’t stop talking, did he? He quickly learned that the more he said, the more time Commander Hange would spend with him, which meant that the guards could not have free rein over their own brand of vengeance.

Perhaps he should have preferred to die a patriot’s death. But he was only sixteen years old.

But Bertholdt talked. Bertholdt talked himself out of the confines, out of the torture cell, out of the naked frightened animal state. He talked himself out of the dungeons. He begged and promised and wept for everything that was ever demanded of him. He talked himself in front of Captain Levi.

@naitfall says: ❛ When does a reason become the blame? ❜

The question slips into his ear like poison. It is cold and impersonal. It burns him through like acid, some chemical compound. He’s been asked the question before, though differently. How did you justify, how did you justify, how did you justify? He didn’t. He couldn’t.

“We just wanted to get back home. We had to… We didn’t know. I swear we didn’t know.” His voice is some hacked off limb, crawling out of his mouth. He chokes on it. Bertholdt’s eyes are nailed to the captain’s boots. He’s waiting for one to come sailing into his face. He can already taste the blood, the skull-shattering pain. He sees his teeth scattering.

To humiliate a soul— there wasn't anything more inhuman than that. To break one’s body and soul, shatter to pieces that wouldn’t ever find their proper place. He couldn’t be put back the way he was, could never return to who he used to be. Levi was familiar with such agony. Standing at the edge of a cliff, with one single choice: to survive at the cost of everything he’s been, to take one step forward and FALL.

His first expedition beyond the walls, a series of choices, losing the last of his family— if only he hadn’t come across this devil. Erwin. His pride was to blame. And yet, that man he wished to kill claimed it wasn’t. Never in his life, had Levi felt as if he belonged with the dirt. On his knees, wanting to scream for the loss of the last two people who gave meaning to his dreams, humiliated, while before him stood a man who couldn’t afford to be as selfish as he was. If it weren’t for this devil, Levi wouldn’t have dedicated himself to humanity. He wouldn’t have denied who he was, for the sake of understanding him, of becoming a tool for his purpose. People didn’t break from torture alone — the loss of hope and dreams, a noose he had tightened around his neck on that day, a leash he had given to his hands to hold. Levi had made the choice to sell his soul. And Bertholdt had made his own.

They had become devils, the monsters the world feared they were. When does a reason become the blame? He’s not asking the boy before him. Maybe he was, hell if he knew, he had spoken before he understood the real meaning behind his own words, his blood boiling at the sight of the state he had found him in, sick at the sight of what happened of him, the ugliness of his own people to justify such cruelty. He was told to stay away. Was it because they feared if he were to approach him, he'd kill him? He wouldn't hold back, break him to the point there wouldn't be any use of him? No. The reason Hange had given him such an order was because they knew he wouldn't stand the sight of him. Levi had dedicated himself to humanity, yet there was nothing human in this madness. They had gone astray, and he didn’t know if there was a way to go back.

They were children. There was no justifying the torture he had gone through, because the truth was — and Levi wasn’t blinded by resentment nor fear to fail to see clearly — when they breached Wall Maria, they were young children, who weren’t prepared to carry the weight of their sins, the loss of countless lives. He still was a child, someone doomed to lose his life young. He wouldn’t look down on him, even if still an enemy he’d kill the moment he seemed to become a threat. Levi had killed, when he was much younger than him, for reasons less justified, revenge against a world that had taken everything from him, a world he wanted to spit on. He never regretted the lives he took while fighting for his life in the underground. He never regretted the lives he sacrificed, for the Survey Corps to advance one tiny step forward. Or so he wanted to believe. Yet the boy before him was drowning in regret long before he was stripped of his freedom.

He didn’t claim to forgive the Colossal Titan. If in his place was Zeke, if he was the one treated like an animal, it would have been different, for he had seen with his own eyes the lack of humanity in him, the animal he truly was. But he truly believed Bertholdt deserved a more merciful end. Absurd, ridiculous, insane, to consider killing an act of mercy. They had all lost their minds in this war. They were all desperate. Trapped in the same cell they had locked him in, terrified of what their fate was, broken beyond repair. They were the same as him, prisoners, cornered prey, desperate to see the light of one more day, for their suffering to end. They were the same as him, else they wouldn’t have treated him with such barbarity.

He dropped to one knee, lowering to meet his gaze. He couldn’t say anything. Couldn't promise him freedom. Couldn't promise him his suffering would soon end. Because, even if the torture did end, he'd never return at being the same. If only he could look into his eyes, not in fear, but as if staring inside a mirror, for he knew the horrors he held inside him. ❝ Is there still a home you want to return to? ❞ If there was, there was still saving him, even a small part of him. For Levi there wasn't. ❝ Don’t look at me like that. There’s no right answer. Just spit it out. ❞

@naitfall asked: 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔤◞ ​🇦​​🇨​​🇨​​🇪​​🇵​​🇹​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬. " what are you talking about ?! "

HE TAKES A LONG PAUSE ... despite his unmoving expression, there's an air of awkwardness that takes over him ; the way his frown pulls into a deeper frown, the silence at his lips even as he looks to speak, how his feelings were, in fact, SLIGHTED.

It seems hypocritical, as someone who also had no MERCY to spare when it came to demons. All of them had to be eradicated. There was nothing more in this world that he hated then demons. But, in saying that ... he had faith in them. Those two who he'd met during that fateful winter massacre. Was it guilt? For not getting their fast enough to save the rest of his family. Was it the way she didn't eat her brother, even as she salivated with the hunger of a newly born monster.

He'd taken a chance on them. Put his own life on the line. For someone operating outside the Demon Slayer Corp to come into contact with the knowledge ... was an uneasy feeling indeed. The Master had acknowledged the siblings. That kept the other Hashira at bay.

He didn’t belong with the Demon Slayer Corps. He didn't belong with them, for he was no different than a demon, no better than a newly-turned demon who hadn't yet killed anyone— once a murderer that used to kill for the sake of his survival, his sense of justice, and the resentment he used to hold towards humanity.

Levi hadn't passed the final selection. His sword belonged to someone else. And yet, their leader had accepted him, years ago. It was such incredible kindness that made Ubuyashiki sick, for such beings weren’t meant to live long. Levi respected him. He only operated on his own because he could only have trust in himself. Because he served a different, selfish purpose. Revenge.

He didn’t judge them, nor the young boy. He was familiar with the heartbreak of losing everything, of watching a loved one lose their sense of self, their HUMANITY. He was familiar with losing one’s own sense of self, when pushing the blade down one’s neck, to kill them before it was too late, before they’d commit sins they’d eternally burn in hell for. What it was like, to give up on his own humanity, to not watch someone dear turn to a demon. He had killed him, with no hesitation, as an act of mercy. Maybe because he was certain there wouldn’t be a demon to resist its urges, or because he should have killed him many years ago. Kamado Tanjiro may have escaped his fate, but for how much longer?

He didn’t judge them, for desperately clinging to an idea — an illusion, if that was. An illusion, of a demon that wouldn’t harm humans, an invincible ally, and proof humanity could win against this monstrous disease. Of all the demon slayers, a Hashira had spared her life, someone with the resolve to eradicate all demons. Giyuu could have seen something Levi didn’t understand, something worth putting his life on the line for.

He didn’t know the right answer. He never had.

❝ And yet, when she kills someone, it's you and that boy that'll pay the price. ❞ The price of the decision they had made, the price of guilt. ❝ I hope she's worth it. ❞

THE STANLEY PARABLE SENTENCE STARTERS .

In the mellow gleam of daybreak, Solveig stood at the edge of a forest, brandishing her battleaxe with precise and deliberate strokes. Each strike against the sturdy trunks was a synergy of vigor and decisiveness, and her dexterity was evident in every calculated arc. Although she was a maverick by temperament, she was not gregarious — she simply favored the quiet companionship of the trees and the rhythm of her own breathing. Exercising in the wild provided her with the clean breeze she craved. Solveig felt her lungs inflate, and her heart pounded all the harder. In those moments when she pushed herself to her limits, Solveig was present and correct in a way that became crucial to her. The forest resounded with the strikes of her axe as it cleaved a path through wood and thought. Solveig's mind, a source of strategic insight, often mimicked the keen intellect of her idolized brother. Yet, her heart remained tied to her sister Hilda, who consistently encouraged her and believed in her abilities regardless of the obstacles they confronted. Solveig's practicality and directness made her a pillar of support for everyone who knew her, even if she kept most people at a distance.

She could tell that Captain Levi, an imposing and strong personage, was monitoring her from a respectful distance. His presence was as domineering as the dawn breaking over the horizon. As he stepped forward, his boots whispered on the forest floor, interrupting the rhythm of Solveig's work. His voice, usually as cutting as his blade, quieted as he spoke. “Nothing good can come of this,” Solveig heard him say, his words lingering in the air like a shade. The reprimand was clear, but Solveig's resolve remained unshaken. Solveig halted, the handle of the axe firmly in her hand, and turned to face him. Her clear and resolute eyes met his with calm certainty. "I don't quite grasp your concern, Captain. The trees won't uproot themselves and seek their revenge on me." Solveig remarked flat in jest, her manner of speaking witty, but not lacking in decorum. She found herself speculative as to why the Captain had chosen to seek her whereabouts, since she hadn't sent word to anyone of her location - admittedly, it wasn't far from the heart of the city.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable in the air. Levi’s word of advice sprang from a place unknown involvement, and Solveig surely desired to cognize why he arrived to detect her.

The blonde woman strode with ponderous steps over to the tree trunk where a second massive cast axe was embedded firmly beneath the brown bark, braced her foot against it and drew the polished steel out with a tug, seemingly with consummate ease. Her hand's back swept away the pearlescent sweat on her forehead, making it generally seem as if she had put hours into her practice already.

Another restless night, images of gore — some products of his imagination, others memories of the past — had forced him to awake. Levi, guided by an unexplainable instinct, like an animal following an interesting scent, found himself tracking her steps, until his boots would sink in the damp soil, and the strikes of her axe would become deafening, the only sound in the usually peaceful, refreshing quietness of the forest. Axes weren't his personal favorite to use. His weapon of choice would always be blades. Light and easy to handle, the best choice for a clean cut — an entirely different use than hers, though. 

Surprisingly, Levi wouldn’t call himself a man close to nature, even if those ridiculously gigantic trees had saved his life countless times. He had come across hunters and villagers before, like Sasha. A different breed, carrying a different kind of freedom, as if granted by the land they stepped on, the only ruler they believed in, for their survival depended on it. Levi’s survival depended on his ability to kill (titans and humans alike) and the sacrifice of others, on blood shed. A thief from the underground, to a soldier of the Survey Corps. How could he claim to understand them?

He didn’t respond to her. She was making fun of him, even if unwillingly, in a way most didn't dare to speak to him. And yet, he didn’t feel offended, for he knew when to grasp disrespect and he didn’t sense any of it in her light-hearted tone. He appreciated her honesty, exposed before him, at ease. Most people kept their guard in his presence. To be around someone who didn’t fear or felt intimidated by him, was a chance he would take advantage of, while watching the sun rise once again. It was the beginning of one more day, one more day they had survived against all odds.

He had been observing her, observing them — those who had chosen to give a battle that wasn’t theirs — same way he observed anything he wished to understand. Her every move, her habits, the bonds she formed, her personality. His strength, to take in his surroundings. The strength of a man raised in ISOLATION, in the isolation of a stifling dark room in his childhood years, and the isolation of the underground in his teen years. His sharp eye had saved his life countless times. 

The underground, a hole in the dirt, where the sun wouldn’t reach and they all shared the same fate, doomed to darkness. In a never-changing environment, where day and night were the same, where the seasons wouldn’t change. Absolute isolation, being treated as if lacking in humanity, often resulted in dullness of mind, yet the people there weren’t like that, for they had their lives to fight for, fight against one another. Maybe, most wouldn’t still be alive if that desire to devour one another didn’t give them a reason to breathe — even if it was that filthy, suffocating air. Levi certainly wouldn’t be where he was, watching the sky change colors. 

Their world had grown larger, to lengths they couldn't even imagine. Even though he was quick to adopt, even Levi was overwhelmed by the amount of information they were forced to catch up on, since reaching that basement. Most failed to grasp the nature of those visitors. He was no different, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off them either, given up in defeat. Maybe because he knew the dangers, what would happen to someone, if they didn’t keep their eyes open. Some feared the volunteers but most were at rest in their presence, and maybe it was better this way, to reserve their peace of mind in a world going insane. He was different. He wasn’t normal after all — to think the sun wouldn't rise for one more day, to think he wouldn't be there to see it. 

❝ You're being too damn loud. ❞ As if he'd be the one to start a proper conversation.