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have you ever heard of bad ideas
Who: eren jaeger (+ mikleo in the closed prompt), you in the open prompts!
When: may 7th - may 14th more or less i’m flexible
Where: mostly the coven’s magical creature stables, coven baths, wherever else if you’d like to plan something different! just hit me up 🤙
What: eren jaeger is a mess
Warnings: mild body horror (itching, raw skin, self harm, shedding?? w/e you call it), some nudity, eren jaeger
Ａ． ＣＡＲＥＴＡＫＩＮＧ
[ if you’ve heard about some newcomer dingus going into the wilde and coming back mostly unscathed— then you’ve also heard, through the coven’s gossip, that nessie and mhairi have already given them stern punishment! forty lashes!! starvation!! banishment!! torture by—
you’ve probably heard it all and more. the truth is, eren is under stable-arrest for a week after being reckless, working harder than the daily keepers and wearing a closed off, unfriendly frown through most of his errands. either thinking about troubles or punishing himself through tasks.
tiny (many) braids hoist the longer hairs that would usually stick at the back of his neck when he’d start to sweat, despite the moisture and cloudy days of the month— the beginning of his hand, leading to his palm and thumb is disfigured and healing the old fashioned way, victim to a bite (from his own mouth), but laboring through any stings with sharp inhales. catch him working, or resting, or. doing something weird.
he can mostly be found around the horses, picking their hooves, carrying blocks of hay over his shoulders for feeding time, mucking their stables and brushing them with certain skill. he had to learn all of that to ride them back home— he’s tried his hand at the pristine unicorn out back, alas . . .
he has wonderful intentions, but his actions and intent to get there are far from pure. she rejects his attempts at petting often for grazing, but doesn’t turn her back to him completely. she watches him plenty, in fact, every so often coming over to smell his back as he mucks her space— and so does he (watch her), respecting her and making sure the water shines like her coat does.
the cockatrice rooster doesn’t seem to like him. puffing its neck out and stalking eren from behind, the cock asks for a duel with his foot as he scatters feed for them in the mornings. accidentally stepping on a resting hen’s tail doesn’t help his case. a scandalous squawk causes him to jump, the cock to attack— and this to happen. it’s hard to say which one’s screaming the loudest.
or wildcard a mythical creature there are so many good ones. ]
Ｂ．Ｙ’ＡＬＬ ＤＯＮ’Ｔ ＫＮＯＷ ＡＢＯＵＴ ＭＹ ＫＮＩＦＥ ＳＴＩＣＫ
[ knives, blades, needles and tools are no novelty to eren! when interest piques as a simple idea, it’s easy to ignore. at most, he’ll pick up whatever it is, give it a once over, before setting it back where it belongs while cleaning out the sheds and organizing utilities.
as his week passes, the idea becomes a desire. the oddity in collecting what has suddenly interested him gradually slips away, and soon enough—
by the end of the day, when the evening colors the sky with purple and murky charcoal, eren can be found going through the tool shed near the peryton for the sharp objects present, and ah.
just looking and testing the edge with his fingers, sharpening any dull things with the stable’s file. nothing more. noticing someone’s extra presence, he’ll look over his shoulder and speak up. ]
. . . I used to use blades a lot. Two at once.
[ it makes sense in his head at the moment, for staring at the edge of a hoof pick and garden sickle and holding back the small urge to stick it into his pocket. it’s the only thing that makes enough sense. ]
Ｃ．ＢＡＴＨＳ (cw: mild body horror)
[ once the days are close to over, eren heads out to wash his clothes and himself back at the coven’s baths, but almost always in a rush, caring not for the company he’d meet or share baths with. near panic flares his nostrils and makes his breathing heard from afar— because his body burns.
it itches day in, day out, he can’t sleep can’t eat can’t do anything with how much its come to drive his mind into a spiral. have you ever had full body psoriasis? once his clothes are discarded carelessly, wading into the waters until they lap at his hips, he scratches wildly at his skin, nails digging relentlessly into flesh until they leave behind streams of even brighter red than what they already were from grating at them all day. his teeth hurt, his mouth aches (another problem) and his skin crawls raw, hell he’s itching, he’s been itching horridly ever since he’s gotten back from his field trip to the wilde, and as a man who has a lot less self preservation than one should have—
it feels like there’s something under his joints, the corners of his eyes, his ears, his neck, the tops of his hands and feet up to his shins beyond the sore dryness and flaking; where the burn and skittering underneath is at its worse.
so he scratches, and cusses, and scratches until skin breaks, until it bleeds in the form of dots of crimson— until he’s picking at it, caring less for the stings it causes, what feels almost like relief rather than more pain to worry about.
slapping salves on him from the offered treatment some bonded have given him helps, and to stop mutilating himself more than he’s already prone to doing, he lathers up even before soaps to rub the excess dirt off him, exhaling a sigh when he could finally breathe. at least. for as long as the temporarily relief that the ointments bring would give him.
fearing that he’s caught by the very disease that overtook the filly pair past the slums . . . he’ll have to talk to mhairi again. perhaps one may want to stop him in the meantime, he’s starting to pick enough at spots that it looks like he’s 👌 this much away from tearing off layers. ]
When: may 7th - may 14th more or less i’m flexible
Where: mostly the coven’s magical creature stables, coven baths, wherever else if you’d like to plan something different! just hit me up 🤙
What: eren jaeger is a mess
Warnings: mild body horror (itching, raw skin, self harm, shedding?? w/e you call it), some nudity, eren jaeger
Ａ． ＣＡＲＥＴＡＫＩＮＧ
[ if you’ve heard about some newcomer dingus going into the wilde and coming back mostly unscathed— then you’ve also heard, through the coven’s gossip, that nessie and mhairi have already given them stern punishment! forty lashes!! starvation!! banishment!! torture by—
you’ve probably heard it all and more. the truth is, eren is under stable-arrest for a week after being reckless, working harder than the daily keepers and wearing a closed off, unfriendly frown through most of his errands. either thinking about troubles or punishing himself through tasks.
tiny (many) braids hoist the longer hairs that would usually stick at the back of his neck when he’d start to sweat, despite the moisture and cloudy days of the month— the beginning of his hand, leading to his palm and thumb is disfigured and healing the old fashioned way, victim to a bite (from his own mouth), but laboring through any stings with sharp inhales. catch him working, or resting, or. doing something weird.
he can mostly be found around the horses, picking their hooves, carrying blocks of hay over his shoulders for feeding time, mucking their stables and brushing them with certain skill. he had to learn all of that to ride them back home— he’s tried his hand at the pristine unicorn out back, alas . . .
he has wonderful intentions, but his actions and intent to get there are far from pure. she rejects his attempts at petting often for grazing, but doesn’t turn her back to him completely. she watches him plenty, in fact, every so often coming over to smell his back as he mucks her space— and so does he (watch her), respecting her and making sure the water shines like her coat does.
the cockatrice rooster doesn’t seem to like him. puffing its neck out and stalking eren from behind, the cock asks for a duel with his foot as he scatters feed for them in the mornings. accidentally stepping on a resting hen’s tail doesn’t help his case. a scandalous squawk causes him to jump, the cock to attack— and this to happen. it’s hard to say which one’s screaming the loudest.
or wildcard a mythical creature there are so many good ones. ]
Ｂ．Ｙ’ＡＬＬ ＤＯＮ’Ｔ ＫＮＯＷ ＡＢＯＵＴ ＭＹ ＫＮＩＦＥ ＳＴＩＣＫ
[ knives, blades, needles and tools are no novelty to eren! when interest piques as a simple idea, it’s easy to ignore. at most, he’ll pick up whatever it is, give it a once over, before setting it back where it belongs while cleaning out the sheds and organizing utilities.
as his week passes, the idea becomes a desire. the oddity in collecting what has suddenly interested him gradually slips away, and soon enough—
by the end of the day, when the evening colors the sky with purple and murky charcoal, eren can be found going through the tool shed near the peryton for the sharp objects present, and ah.
just looking and testing the edge with his fingers, sharpening any dull things with the stable’s file. nothing more. noticing someone’s extra presence, he’ll look over his shoulder and speak up. ]
. . . I used to use blades a lot. Two at once.
[ it makes sense in his head at the moment, for staring at the edge of a hoof pick and garden sickle and holding back the small urge to stick it into his pocket. it’s the only thing that makes enough sense. ]
Ｃ．ＢＡＴＨＳ (cw: mild body horror)
[ once the days are close to over, eren heads out to wash his clothes and himself back at the coven’s baths, but almost always in a rush, caring not for the company he’d meet or share baths with. near panic flares his nostrils and makes his breathing heard from afar— because his body burns.
it itches day in, day out, he can’t sleep can’t eat can’t do anything with how much its come to drive his mind into a spiral. have you ever had full body psoriasis? once his clothes are discarded carelessly, wading into the waters until they lap at his hips, he scratches wildly at his skin, nails digging relentlessly into flesh until they leave behind streams of even brighter red than what they already were from grating at them all day. his teeth hurt, his mouth aches (another problem) and his skin crawls raw, hell he’s itching, he’s been itching horridly ever since he’s gotten back from his field trip to the wilde, and as a man who has a lot less self preservation than one should have—
it feels like there’s something under his joints, the corners of his eyes, his ears, his neck, the tops of his hands and feet up to his shins beyond the sore dryness and flaking; where the burn and skittering underneath is at its worse.
so he scratches, and cusses, and scratches until skin breaks, until it bleeds in the form of dots of crimson— until he’s picking at it, caring less for the stings it causes, what feels almost like relief rather than more pain to worry about.
slapping salves on him from the offered treatment some bonded have given him helps, and to stop mutilating himself more than he’s already prone to doing, he lathers up even before soaps to rub the excess dirt off him, exhaling a sigh when he could finally breathe. at least. for as long as the temporarily relief that the ointments bring would give him.
fearing that he’s caught by the very disease that overtook the filly pair past the slums . . . he’ll have to talk to mhairi again. perhaps one may want to stop him in the meantime, he’s starting to pick enough at spots that it looks like he’s 👌 this much away from tearing off layers. ]
no subject
eren pulls his hand away slowly, resting it briefly on top of mikleo’s forearm in a surprisingly gentle clap, nodding to let him know that he’s on it— without even leaving? he’s not leaving this spot. at the very least, until sorey is here, but for now? he’s. staying. right here. ]
I will.
[ pulling out his watch from his pocket and poking at buttons like grandpa’s first ipad. that, and his hands still sort of ache. while he does this, though, trying to go through . . . network? people? whatever it was that akira showed him how to do, he’s trying to do it and finds himself drifting with thought.
mikleo went all the way out there, went through a shitstorm, with him— and he didn’t know why he did all that? it didn’t seem fair. eren wets his lips before he speaks. ]
I was trying to turn into a titan. [ he knows he mentioned them to the seraph once or twice— as humans turned man eating giants living endless nightmares in them. ] A conscious one.
no subject
Thank you. [His eyes flutter back open when he hears the sound of a watch.] ... Oh, right. I keep forgetting about those. [He's not used to having this kind of technology, but thankfully Izuku showed him a while back.
He's definitely tired, but he can make conversation at least until it properly claims him again. He should eat at some point but he's just... not hungry. He's empty in every sense of the word, save for the relief in his heart.
He pauses at that admission, though, his breathing interrupted for a moment.]
... Is that your power, then? You can turn into one and keep your sanity?
[Wow. That's not something even Mikleo could do, not that he'd ever want to tread that close to being a dragon in the first place. But, still... he's starting to see the picture here. He's beginning to understand why that transformation meant so much to Eren that he flipped out when he couldn't do it. It was that important to him, perhaps because there's no one else who can use that power.]
I'm sorry that was taken from you. But you're not helpless, and you're not alone. We can make it work.
[Lavender eyes settle on Eren's features.]
You're a protector. I had that feeling from the first time we met.
no subject
once that’s done, he’ll start— rubbing some of the ointments left on him. maybe he won’t have to worry about itching himself to harm (haha, a joke). curling fingers into the pot left by his feet, he glides them across the little burning sensations. it works, for the most part. chilly. the good kind of chilly. ]
It’s . . . Hard to ignore people who’re overwhelmed.
[ a “protector” sounds almost extravagant to his ears, but it isn’t untrue. eren felt the need to protect those under the massive weight of oppression, and violation. from things who threaten to take their freedom.
that’s what he’s always believed, even if some memories hurt, with how much the path to freedom was . . . bloody. ]
I’d help pull their trigger if I can.
[ and that’s what eren’s always manages to inspire in hearts: awakening. ]
no subject
He listens patiently as Eren chooses careful words to explain. Mikleo gets it now, though he pretty much had the shape of it before; Eren is concerned with other people's freedom, a liberation from their oppression inside and outside the walls. He can't even run free, here. Mikleo has spent his life learning and traveling and cataloging; to be denied would be to smother half of himself. It's unimaginable.
His lips curve, his smile making the edges of his eyes crinkle.]
I guess that makes me the one who helps the helper.
[He still has his hand within perfect grasping reach, if Eren wants it. Mikleo seems to be losing his fight though.]
... Make sure you get some rest, too. I don't think I'll-- [a stifled yawn] -- be able to heal for a while.
no subject
a faraway expression only solidifies into a weary smile back when his eyes make contact. oh, mikleo. what would he have done without you out there? maybe worry less, maybe come back alive, maybe. or maybe he wouldn’t have calmed enough to flee from the horses in time.
it was what it was, and the thing, this thing he felt during, when his hands were bloody and his eyes stung with tears— what was that, right? what was that, magic? mikleo? both?
after some thought on his own, it’s what makes him reach for the seraph’s arm (rather than his hand, although there’s no lesser meaning to what he does because of it), a cleaner hand than the one caked with ointment, that grips his forearm. ]
Get some rest.
[ some much needed rest, in fact. they weren’t bonded— it was too early to even think he needed a bond, much less realize he was a monster to begin with.
his grip unfastens. his fingers brushing down and lingering close to mikleo’s hand, partially out of curiosity while he questions what happened during their blood exchange until . . . they’re actually there, on his hand. he removes himself the second he realizes he’s indulging in something he doesn’t really know, but.
there’s benefit to it, and he wonders again if that’s a constant thing. for a second, it almost felt like how he’d hold historia’s hand at random intervals, to see if he’d get more memories.
he’s awfully thoughtful as mikleo drifts. ]