naitfall

[naitfall]

@naitfall i was thinking abt it

it feels unusual to be above the blood, above the writhing, the wordless hell of people tearing people open in the half-light, but that’s where she is, perched atop a building, chest against brick.

war makes its own kind of weather. the smoke is so thick she can taste it: bitter, chemical. marley burns with the soft color of dying apricots, shells raining through fogged air. she presses into the cold edge of the sill, lets it bite her ribs, makes herself into a shape so thin the world might forget her, breathes in the scent of powder, the metallic certainty of blood already claiming the earth. 

the rifle is not an old friend, but she knows it. the weight. the way its hunger sits in her arms, heavier than any blade she’s loved, steadier than the old familiar dance of gear at her waist. she is good with swords, her body remembers every wheeling turn, but this is different. the conversation with gravity is already family but this is a conversation with distance, with the clear invisible thread drawn tight between intention and consequence. 

smoke draws slow veins through the sky. she thinks of her father’s hands: working a furrow open, patient, deliberate, folding dirt closed over a seed, shaping the hope of a harvest in the dusk-lit rows.

she exhales, patient, waiting, eyes narrowed behind the glass of her scope. the world reduces to the circle of her sight. heat rising, bodies colliding, the throb and rush of someone else’s panic.

she tracks the action bellow and she sees him in the blurred violence. he moves with that battered, essential grace, something both worn and unbreakable, shoulders angling through ruin, gravity arguing with him but never winning.

a scout stumbles, she watches levi close the distance, his hand brief and unforgiving at their arm, steadying and dismissing in the same gesture, shoving them out of the way, and then he is there, sliding into the unfinished violence, claiming a fight that didn't start as his before it can finish becoming threat.

someone ghosts into the blind spot behind him, gun lifting, hunger in the tension of their arm. the bad geometry of danger. her focus telescopes down. the world narrows. her mind draws the line: shoulder, elbow, wrist, finger, breath. she lets her mouth open a little, jaw slackening, memory guiding her.

there’s a hush, a sweetness right before the break, then the sound: crisp, bright, like teeth sinking into ripe fruit. a thread of smoke where the bullet cuts the air. the rifle jerks, a sharp flower blooming at her collarbone, and she watches the arc of the bullet slice space. 

it touches levi first: not his flesh, but a kiss of heat skipping over the crown of his shoulder. she wonders if the shirt ripped.

then the man behind him folds, legs spilling out from under him, skull bursting open on the stone like an overripe fruit tossed hard to earth.

she does not make a habit of aiming for the heart or head, but the ugly math of it is this: sometimes you have to aim for clean endings. a shot through the knee or shoulder is mercy only if you can afford it, and right now the world will not wait for anyone to limp.

[naitfall]

@eatenword wanted to be evil. . .

So my response is:

This song

And this meme

[naitfall]

sinday thoughts. levi turn-ons. levi has a bit of sadist/masochist in him. he likes just a tiny bit of pain— let me explain. pulling on hair tight. holding one's wrist/arm/leg just a little too tight. pinning one's hands. putting a little too much pressure in one's body, one's entire weight on top of the other, a kiss that's far too long until both can't any longer breathe, a kiss where one's lips press too tight, too forceful. pressing one's knee where the other is driven mad. any tight hold, where too much strength escapes them, where passion drives them insane. he's not the type who likes extremes in bed, but he's definitely the type who likes it when control is lost. levi is not a boring guy, he's got his own, different kind of spice, as a character, and when it comes to his partner.

[naitfall]

ooc. Okay but nobody talks about what happens to the survivors of the rumbling. The eldians who have stopped the rumbling. They go around trying to establish peace but also. . . Let's talk about the Yeagerists trying to assassinate Levi for killing Zeke. Or Armin for killing Eren. Let's talk about them going some place were a bunch of people want them dead, they come at them with rocks, and tomatoes, and with the intent to hurt, because, it's because of them the plan to reform humanity has failed. Or the opposite. Those who don't buy they're heroes. Those who blame them for ever being a part in Eren's life. Who believe they're responsible for this war. Give me them trying to run for their lives from am angry crowd. Them escaping a bullet aimed for their head. It makes sense.

[naitfall]

ooc. good morning. this kind of moment.

[naitfall]

@vonbirden asked:

send 🎲 to generate a kiss! - farlan c:

kiss roulette

5. a firm kiss

How unusual, to sleep and wake up in a bed. Sleep had always seemed like a luxury, a waste of time in the never-ceasing battle for survival ( was the enemy the entire underground, titans, or humanity itself ), another weakness, another part of him vulnerable and human he would rather throw away or deny its existence. He was HUMAN, that was the undeniable reality, a reality he could no longer pretend not to see when looking at his own reflection, at the scars meant to remind him how close he had been to losing his life. For getting near crossing that thin line between life and death, Levi would pay. His weakened body would no longer function as he wished ( his hurting leg, his injuries, the damage he had sustained ), and for once, he’d be forced to submit to his own human needs. 

Was it surviving a battle they never imagined to see the end of, was it the medications for the pain he had been taking . . . ever since they saw their comrades one last time, ever since his promise for revenge had been fulfilled, as much as Levi needed sleep, for his body to recover after years of insomnia, exceeding his limits without stop, his mind would still find ways to force him to wake— his mind and body fighting against one another, the nightmares to haunt Levi having become even more overwhelming and violent. 

Lately, he had been having a different dream. A dream, inside a dream, where Levi seems to wake up after a horrible nightmare, in extreme pain, sweating, cursing, struggling to breathe, only to see Farlan right next to him, looking at him while he’s trying to ground himself, still disoriented and out of touch with reality. Farlan always seems to speak to him, but Levi can’t listen to what he’s saying, his ears ringing, only able to listen to the frantic beating of his own heart. In his calming presence, Levi falls back asleep. He had been having the same ‘dream’, night after night. 

It was the same dream tonight as well— Levi had woken up, not struggling in pain this time, worn-out, one single ice blue eye meeting his gaze. This time, Farlan wouldn’t speak. He had been staring at him in silence, wearing his usual playful, charming smile. Levi stared in silence in return, for long, as if waiting for this dream to end, for when he’d wake up. It must be one of those dreams that could hold one’s entire life. So many emotions left unsaid, a lifetime of words unspoken. But Levi hadn’t any regrets. Wouldn’t regret a single moment of belonging in Farlan’s life. None of them move, nor speak. This dream is so much different than the ones he had been having.

In his eyes, Farlan’s eyes, Levi felt HUMAN. Ever since he had lost his mother, ever since Kenny had left him to fight on his own, Levi had been navigating this world like a wild animal. A beast he was, even to Erwin, and a challenge to tame him. Joining the Survey Corps, he was looked at, sometimes with fear, others with admiration, or even resentment, as their captain, a devil, humanity’s strongest, but he was never seen. And once he lost his power, couldn't use his wings anymore, his existence was forgotten ( he wouldn't blame them, he knew that once he died, fulfilled his purpose, he wouldn't be missed, nor remembered ). Except for Farlan, who had never taken his eyes off him. 

Farlan hadn’t taken his eyes off of him, hadn’t he? His back, Levi had turned on him, for he didn’t want to be SEEN, didn’t want to meet his gaze. He had convinced himself. Farlan was dead. He had killed him many years ago, his pride had gotten them both killed. He’d march forward, to a path he was supposed to follow on his own, never looking back— didn’t dare, for he knew he’d find him standing right behind him, a ghost (?), following his steps— he may haven’t yet killed him, but one day would. He couldn’t let him get any closer. 

Except, ever since he was brought down by his injuries, Levi couldn’t any longer keep himself at distance, couldn’t keep moving forward on his own. He didn’t want to. He any longer hadn’t the strength to be selfless— SELFISH he’d become once again, a side of him only Farlan knew and could bring out— Levi had turned his back on him, for he didn’t know if he could be fighting for humanity, instead of him ( afraid he'd give up on the purpose he had found, for him ). But they hadn’t any more battles to fight, no promises to keep, no vows to be fulfilled. They were no longer soldiers. There was no purpose to serve. The remaining years of this life, Levi wanted them to be like this moment, where his whole world resided in Farlan’s eyes, the reflection of his soul he had been lost into. 

When dreaming, people are known to lower all defenses, one’s real self shown. A selfish man Levi was, as much as he had been trying to deny it ( deny Farlan ) all these years. Levi wouldn’t keep himself at distance. Not any longer. Even the short space in between, the few inches to separate them, he wanted to close it. The reason he leant closer escaped him, guided by instinct as he was, unguarded. Eyes close, and lips gently press. If this wasn’t the most SELFISH he had ever been in his entire life. He didn’t mind it, though. For it seemed as if he could for once breathe properly —even though in fact, his breath had stopped— after suffocating for years, certain he’d lose him. 

He didn't want it to be a dream. If there was anything real in this absurd reality, it was the beating of his heart, the warmth of his hold, the proof they were both still alive. His hand was warm. When had he reached to hold his hand? Since when had he realized none of this was a dream? From the very beginning. When their lips part, he leant backwards, to look at him, and all emotions to rise within. 

The question to follow may seem to come out of nowhere. A question troubling him for such a very long time— his defenses lowered, he’d act according to his emotions, speak of his real thoughts. ❝ Do you hate me? ❞ For he had put him in a lot of trouble, hadn’t he? 

[naitfall]

[naitfall]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬. @naitfall / x.

THE WAY THEY SPEAK (...) how they look at him even when his focus cuts away. A fire that burns in contentment; yearning, respect, admiration. Laura had seen it before. It wasn't so uncommon. In those rare opporunities to witness it, she often couldn't take her eyes off it. Soliders with dreams, a will to fight through hell and back, trusting in their captain that they followed without a doubt in their mind. It had long since been washed away with purpose - he inspired them.

She had doubted him, once condeming him with the rest ; arrogance in heroics, a tasteless display of ignorance, fighting for a lost cause (...) she hated the feeling, residing bitterly in the pit of her stomach. When was it that she found herself staring, without any trace of resentment. Was Levi even aware? could he see what she saw?

If she were to picture freedom, even to this day, she knows the wings that would come to mind. Now, that image resides on his back ; she knows why they look at him like that. She wonders, if she had wanted people to look at her in that way. A LONG TIME AGO.

But it's not what occupies her thoughts. She wasn't envious when she stared at him (not anymore) but she still can't tear herself away. Emotions are abstract when they take hold. She can't put it into words. Laura isn't a selfish child, isn't reactive enough to feel (...) what?

It transcends jealousy. Laura wasn't possessive, could never put claim over others, wasn't bitter or resentful as their eyes lit up around him. How even with his blunt tone that sends them jumping, quick to fall in line and atune to his words, they still held absolute appreciation. Solider's willing to die, but more then that, willing to fight at his command, because they believe in him. In truth, she just stares in silent thought, locked in a gentle rise of emotions, both warm and hesitant.

Laura had always fought for herself. Never had she followed, never put faith in another, she could rely on her drive alone - it had been enough. And yet, in that moment, she has to wonder (...) what was it that she could do for him? She'd fight for him, she knows that deep down. Not at the behest of any orders. Perhaps, she is envious of the soliders around him - so close, even as he keeps them at a distance. She doesn't want to follow him, no, it's more important then that.

She wouldn't die for anyone. But, if she was told to fight, she'd do it, if he asked. She wouldn't follow (...) she would find a way to his side, even as the gap between them stretched.

Laura blinks out of her thoughts the second he made his way towards her. Shoulders tense, ruffled by her own contemplation, and not enough time to recover before he finally speaks:

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

EYES ARE QUICK TO DIVERT / she can't look at him, pride dictates. Aversion. Adamant in her obsurce difficulty, her grimance is inconspicuous, an exasperated scoff buried in her throat. “ No I don't. ” Unnerved at her own ludicriousy, refusing to let it slip.

[naitfall]

. . . stares.

[naitfall]

wishlist. Levi and his squad (& any muse) returning to the Underground during Kenny's arc because the underground is a good place to hide both from the Military and Kenny's squad. Because Levi knows the Underground best and because nobody would dare to set foot. Levi going x100 feral returning to this place. His instincts on alert, he's growing insane. He returns to the same place he used to live with Farlan and Isabel only to find others living on it. People who recognize him have to be killed, so he and anyone from his squad have to hide their faces. People recognize him from his old squad or kids he's taken care of that have now grown to teens/adults. Them learning about Farlan and Isabel. The kids learning about the life Levi used to have in the underground. Rumors spread the thug has returned, but nobody can connect he's Captain Levi of the Survey Corps.

[naitfall]

Levi doesn't open up to people, he doesn't let anyone get close to him BLAH-BLAH-BLAH. Have you wondered why? 'Trauma response', you'll say. Hm, pretty close but not quite. 'He's scared to let people close because when they're gone, it's going to hurt him more'. Strongly disagree.

Levi is incapable of showing his emotions. It is result of trauma and the environment he was raised (fighting every day for his survival), but it's NOT because he's scared of getting close to people or like your regular fictional character who 'is too strong and cool and traumatized to be showing his emotions'. No. Levi is simply incapable of expressing himself properly.

He's a deranged man raised by deranged people in a environment full of deranged people.

His mother. As much as I love her (and write her), Kuchel wasn't in her right mind to raise a kid in the underground, and a brothel. Nor was Levi's reaction as a kid normal to choose to die alongside her. She was a woman who wore a pleasant facade and was in fact incapable of feeling. For Levi she did feel extreme love, but she didn't feel anything else, no real happiness, or sorrow, or anxiety. Except from her love for Levi, she wouldn't show or wear any other real emotions. Levi was raised by a woman who never laughed or cried, or seemed genuinely happy or sad, or a woman who could show any intense emotions. It's not surprising to me he wouldn't actually know what emotions looked like, in one's face. That the first time he heard laughter he'd stare shocked and wide-eyed. After all, he was a kid who was raised in a room, isolated, in a place that was too dangerous to wander alone.

Kenny. I don't need to analyze the reasons Kenny was deranged (again, as much as I love him). I doubt Kenny ever let himself show Levi how much he may have cared for him. Kenny taught Levi violence, became the father figure Levi never had, and disappeared from his life. Same as Kuchel, there's no real genuine emotion for Levi to be taught from Kenny, and on top of it all, he was abandoned and believing it was his fault.

Both Kenny and Kuchel loved Levi, but simply couldn't show it. Levi was taught how to feel intensely, but never how to show it. And then, he was left on his own to fight for his life in a place where there were only enemies. He became a man who couldn't speak of his emotions, couldn't understand his own emotions, while searching for emotions in others. Like I said, he's a deranged man raised by deranged people, and that has made him the caring, yet distant, yet understanding and emotionally intelligent person he is. Levi's intelligence is observing. And that is why he knows people so well, but he doesn't know himself. The lack of information in his early childhood have made him the person he is, with the missing parts he still doesn't have and will never find.

Now, one more thing I needed to point out. One more reason Levi doesn't speak about himself (his worries, his emotions, his thoughts) is also because he believes his mind to be an ugly place. All the blood, and murder, and death, and cries, and screams, and nightmares and, and, and. . . He sees his thoughts, his inner self, as some place ugly to let anyone see.

[naitfall]

platonic / romantic / story of opposites / developing . . . they are / should have been the same. yet on opposite sides they stand, for one of them didn’t survive — he suffocated, but she didn’t. what’s left for a dead man to do? make sure she wouldn’t find the same end he had— for that he’d become both the enemy & the shoulder to lean on, cruel & caring at once. who she needed, never who she wanted. except, she would see right through his act. she would see him. when most couldn’t or didn’t dare to.

@lausticzt [ tag: beautiful. furious. radiant. i love you with fury— to choke you with all my soul. with all my blood ] : affiliates / mains

[naitfall]

Levi was no idiot, despite what he may look like in Farlan’s eyes. Despite looking like an idiot from up-this-close — the unbothered look on his face, his stern exterior, the falsely suggested obliviousness for suddenly forcing Farlan into his personal space, leaning down yet still on his toes.

Not the slightest change in environment would escape Levi, from a shirt being folded differently or changing one’s soap, to a rise in heartbeat, or even the heat on Farlan’s face. Levi didn’t claim not to understand, that would be a misunderstatement, he simply didn’t care to comply with what ‘normalcy’ commanded. To treat people just as they expected to be treated, was a skill he had never been interested in. He’d rather act according to his instincts, and deal with the consequences instead. 

Farlan already knew, didn’t he? He understood how impulsive he could be, unrestrained — many times he’d help clean up the mess Levi would leave behind, frustrated and rolling his eyes. Why was he surprised? What else could be, other than such a radical change in their routines? He let go of his hold after a while, after getting his answer, remaining just as close as before, looking up at the other, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ❝ It’s different. ❞ It was an interesting scent. The question was, how hadn’t he known about this, and why did Farlan get his hands on something new first. And that left him in a sullen mood.

There really was NO WARNING ... barely able to muster out a 'hey!' in surprise, knowing it's Levi closing the gap he isn't sure if he's angry at him or ; well, he isn't sure on the other part. Farlan doesn't know what expression is on his face right now, is he gawking, curious, a little ruffled that he was suddenly pulled so close ( pulled downward, mind you, that he's now having to lean at an angle ) but he's at least sure this isn't going to be a fight. Which makes it worse. Tension takes over, swallowing at the lump in his throat, and for once he's the one flustered, the one on the receiving end of this behaviour, and ...

His soap?

Mouth, now agape, twitches. It takes Farlan a few seconds to recover. To take in Levi's question. To notice his prying gaze.

“ I-.. is that all this is about? ” He would rub the back of his neck if he could, but instead lips pull into a frown. Levi could have just asked him, but no. Jeez. He got his heart beating. Fluster or just the sudden invasion of his space? And for the way he smelt? This was embarrassing. Still, his casual disposition returns without fail ( for he doesn't really mind being this close ) “ You really took notice of that, huh? Why, don't like it? ”

[naitfall]

It crazy how people just wake up one day and MAKE THIS SHIT 🔥

Made by Nolanthomas44 on Pinterest

[naitfall]

@vonbirden asked:

🎁 - for zeke c:<

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle.

49 - Where's My Love || SYML

Levi and Zeke are in the paths. Both are almost dead, but after Ymir fixes Zeke's body, Zeke gets close to an almost dead Levi

Where’s my love? LOVE. Humanity’s nastiest disease. A curse, to bind them both to life and death— absurd how for love they’d live, and for love they’d die. For love, they’d lose their sanity, a sickness to rot the brain. There was no antidote, no medicine to cure its symptoms. How many had lost their minds? How many had succumbed to it, and died, for love? More than Levi could count— never he could imagine, he’d find the same ending. Falsely he believed he had immunity against it, for he was still alive when everyone else had died, unbeknownst to him, he had lost to it the moment he made that vow to Erwin. Out of love. An arrogant fool he had been, as much sick and demented as they all were. To search for meaning in someone else, in this meaningless world. To chase for hope and comfort, in a cruel world where there was none. 

Love. He had never voiced such words, hadn’t he? He had led his whole life without any regrets, but in his last moments, regrets had come to haunt him, too weak to resist. I love you mother. How much he wished he had the chance to tell her. I love you guys. If only they had known, Farlan and Isabel. Everyone. . . You’re important to me. His squad. I love you Er– No. That didn’t seem right. Erwin, I– Were these truly the words he would have said to him? He still had a chance, for the line to separate life and death had grown thinner, and Levi was right at the border. Would he cross the line?

Zeke’s desperate scream was the last he had heard. A high-pitched sound followed, and then complete silence. For how long was he unconscious, lingering in that endless night, with only darkness in sight? And yet, he could still feel, still burning with life, a small flickering fire, all his senses on alert. A man in his last moments was meant to see the ones most dear to him. For Erwin, it had been his father, and the moment replayed in that comforting delirious state of mind he was lost in, was the day that had decided his course of life. For Levi was . . . 

Erwin. A blurry blond figure stood on top of him. He couldn’t listen, couldn’t process anything he said, for sound wouldn’t reach him. He couldn’t see, not through his own blood, he couldn’t focus his eyes on the man close to him, and yet the starry sky above their heads was crystal clear, as if Levi wouldn’t need to see its beauty with his eyes, a sight of the mind and heart. Where were they, if not by the side of the river? When did it stop raining? In sand, he’d lay. The paths. It was warm, a place that held a certain peace, calming his raging mind. It would be a peaceful death. And yet, a tragic one.

A ghost. Erwin. Did you know that we bleed the same? Erwin. He tried calling out his name. You poor thing. . . It wasn’t Erwin’s voice. Did he still remember his voice? It’s been years, since he last heard it.

‘ You won’t have eyes tonight. You won’t have ears or a tongue. You will wander the underworld blind, deaf and dumb, and all the dead will know: this is [...] the fool who thought he killed [...]. ’

Levi had read this, in one of Erwin’s books. A tragic story about revenge, and how one could lose oneself, when succumbing to grief and anger. Was this truly his ending? Would he die, having accomplished nothing at all? What about all their sacrifices? The vow he had made to him? Erwin. Had he come to escort him to the other life? To ask him what happened of all their dedicated hearts? Or to speak the words they never admitted to one another?

Did you run away? Come back. . . 

Erwin. Erwin. Erwin. He kept calling out his name, but he couldn’t tell if his voice could be heard. His hand reached for him, for the figure on top of him, a slight raise in his right hand. He could barely move, or speak, choking in his own blood. Such a pathetic sight he had become, and when his greatest enemy watched with pity. Coughing even more blood, his body stiffened, every muscle contracting at once violently, his breathing shallow and ragged, fingers of his left hand curling in the sand, while still desperately reaching for him. For Erwin. He was dying. But before he did. . . 

How dangerous, to care for someone. Was it LOVE though, the reason he’d self-destruct? Maybe, if he had never made that vow, he wouldn’t have been this close to death. Was it love, that yearning? Or not? Truth is, there was something much more intense than love. OBSESSION.

Any other man would be seeing those most dear, in his final moments. Memories of peace, and comfort. But for Levi, revenge was rooted deep inside his heart, deeper than any love ever could. There wasn’t love in those clouded eyes of his, but an opportunity to kill. To avenge the one most dear to him. The one who had changed his course of life.

In the sand his hand was buried, as if in between spasms he’d search for something. He got hold of it. A piece of wood that was stuck in his hand. Erwin. He called his name again, more coughing, his voice breaking. Erwin. I’ll keep my promise. Are you watching me? The man on top of him gets closer. Zeke gets closer. He had one single chance, one moment to collect all his strength and to lift his body just a tiny bit. A chance to stab that piece of wood in his neck.

As if death could have him before he finished him. He’d hold onto this life with everything he had, he wouldn’t bite the dust before he found death by his hand. 

[naitfall]

There was no hidden pattern to look for, nor an invisible puppeteer to pull any strings (theirs, or that of their absurd reality). There was no meaning to search for, in how and which gears of their universe were set in motion, and what their place was in that complex chaotic mechanism of life and all its creatures. It was a world absent of any sense. 

In the absolute void, in the absence of everything Levi had found comfort, and a reason to keep moving forward — not to defy the lack of all meaning, not something as reckless or idealistic as that, but to SURVIVE. They were human, frail and ephemeral, and too idiotic to understand even a fragment of their own lives. To survive against all cruelties, when all chances were against them, was enough of an act of rebellion. A taste of freedom. It was freedom they all chased in the Survey Corps, a bunch of lunatics who couldn’t accept losing against any enemy — whether it was titans, humanity, or death itself. She wouldn’t lose. Levi had no intention to let her lose. She’d fight, hold onto life with all she had, too stubborn to give up, or even trust him with her life — even when she couldn't any longer move, she'd give her all to stand. An idiot, as much as they all were.

She got hit, not because of any bad luck, fate, or chance, nor he happened to find her because there was any sort of mercy. There was nothing but the two of them struggling to survive, and in this raw yet pure reality Levi had chosen to believe in. A reality where whether she’d live or die, was no result of anything that was in somebody else’s control. For freedom, they rebelled, to have the privilege of choice, whether the outcome benefited them or not. Such a great price they’d all pay.

They had it coming. Expeditions like this always suffered the most casualties. The forces of nature opposed a greater enemy than titans were, for they still hadn’t the means to fight against. He despised rain, all the chaos and confusion, all that pain, rain mixing with blood, fusing as if they were one and the same, as if whether it was blood or water to run down their skin it didn’t matter, as if it didn’t matter if they were drained of life.

Levi was quick to spot her, his eyes scanning the area for anyone who could still be saved. He couldn't properly tend to her wounds, couldn't see without any light, nor search for shelter– not when they were already ordered to withdraw. It was dangerous to carry her with how much she'd bleed, but it was even more dangerous to stay any minute longer in this shitty place. If only there was a horse somewhere close. He whistled, but no sound could be heard other than the forceful patting of rain, and in long distance, the yells and cries of comrades, terrified for they were already doomed.

It could have been worse. She wasn’t going to die, he knew damn well the look of those meant to lose their lives, seen it in the eyes of countless soldiers. Her eyes spoke of something else instead. ❝ Focus on breathing. ❞ He wouldn't wait for her to stand on her own, wouldn't take the risk of her wasting the last of her remaining strength. One. Two. On three, he forced her body close to his, one arm wrapped around her, lifted off the ground, his free hand placed where most of the bleeding came from, pressing tightly against heated flesh. She must come to resent him right at this moment— for the pain she’d suffer from, for exploiting the trust she had in him, taking action on his own, unannounced. Resentment, he could live with. To be cursed, held responsible for one’s suffering. If it meant she’d come to live another day, and he wouldn’t have to watch her take her last breath, she’d better curse him with all she wanted. But first. . . ❝ Feel my chest move. ❞ Pressed against him, as she was. ❝ Match my breath. ❞ Slow, deep, and steady. As long as she only had to keep breathing, he could take care of the rest.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐱: more injury prompts bc reasons (accepting)

The cobblestones are slick beneath her, slick and slicker still with what’s leaking from her side, mixing with the rain until it’s all the same—red and gray and black. She can taste iron, thick on her tongue, and she almost wants to laugh but the sound dies in her throat, caught somewhere between a gasp and a cough, more blood than sound.

It’s absurd, really, what got her wasn’t the maw of a titan, wasn't the crush of bone under impossible strength, wasn’t even the collapse of a building folding in on itself. Just debris. The universe is indifferent like that. A jagged shard of wood, splintered and senseless, cutting through the air and finding her like it had purpose. It speared into her side, knocking her from the air like a ragdoll, body pinwheeling until gravity took over and slammed her down onto the cobblestones. She had tried to stand, but pain had forced her down and she had laid there, eyes wide, staring through the tattered remnants of an awning, body splayed and still, stunned by the absurdity, thinking: This is what does it? Not a titan, not a blade — fucking debris? 

How Levi’s gaze had sliced through the rain, through shadows and broken things, and landed on her, crumpled and soaked under that shredded awning—  how he had been able to spot her, she has no idea. But he did find her, and she feels a sharp gratitude twist in her chest. She’s glad he’s here. Glad that he had tried to help her up even when her body hadn't cooperated. Less glad he might see her die. It felt embarrassing, actually, someone witnessing her die.

Not that she’s planning on it, but her situation is less than ideal.

She tried and fails to stand again, face contorting in pain.

“  if it hurts,  good.  it means you’re still going.  now just hold on a little longer.  ” @naitfall

“You’re a real motivator,” she rasps, her voice barely threading through the rain, torn at the edges. It’s halfway a joke, but there’s truth clinging to it, too—she admires his blunt, pragmatic edge. Her gaze lowers to the hunk of wood jutting from her side. A stupid, meaningless splinter in the grand scheme of everything - but it could be worse. It could’ve hit her face, her neck—something vital, something final. If it had nicked a lung or sliced an artery, she’d already be gone. So that’s something, she guesses. “It could be worse.” She says out-loud this time. That’s the mantra, the bitter lullaby looping in her head.

She just had to hold on, she finds comfort in that. But beneath that command, something gnaws—holding on isn’t enough. She wants to push through. Someone might come, someone must’ve seen the flare. But with everything spiraling out of control, it could take time. If anyone comes at all. And she’s never been the type to wait, passive, for salvation to swoop in.

She feels like she has already stretched her luck thin enough with Levi spotting her.

“Alright.” A breath wrenches itself from her lungs, but her eyes harden like tempered steel, the decision made. Moving is reckless, a knife’s edge gamble—but staying here, letting blood seep into cobblestone while banking on luck, that’s a potential death sentence. She forces her arms forward, straining towards Levi’s blurred silhouette. “One more time. On three.”