#;responses.

"Hm…Fine. Then inform me about yours…"

—- ✗ — ❝ In my opinion, ya both have been actin' childish. 

              On his part, thunder-brain has got some anger issues that obviously need worked on,

                                   but both of you have been makin' unnecessary stabs at each other just to get underneath of the skin. 

You two lack communication between yourselves when it comes to this kinda stuff. Just a couple days ago, you were all over each other--then ya just turn right around and crap like this happens. 

"So what if I’m a drunk, grow a pair and stop being a child."

outlast sentences.

{ ♚ }     he can’t help but find amusement from the other’s words. considering other situations they’ve been in    this isn’t too bad. of course… if he had the chance to alter current events, he certainly would. a small, brief exhale leaves him, and for a long while, he only listens to the sound of passing footsteps    to his own breathing, to the breathing of levi. it was better to enjoy the silence, at times. but silence never lasted for long. it’s better like that, he thinks. though comfort can be found in silence, it can be terrifying more often than not. especially on the battlefield. 

        gaze settles itself on comrade’s leg, and then to what remains of his right arm.  these petty injuries of theirs are nothing. they both could have lost their lives, but yet, they remained alive. alive though hundreds and hundreds of soldiers had died before their very eyes. was it luck? it could be. terrible luck that has left the oh-so-mighty commander filled with survivor’s guilt. he wonders if levi feels the same, but does not ask. 

outlast sentences.

{ ♚ }     seeing levi enraged is not something that’s new for the commander, per se. no, quite the contrary. he's accustomed to seeing him angry    at himself, at others, at titans, at this cruel world. erwin has never known how to provide comfort. giving advice just pisses levi off more, offering a hug or any sort of physical comfort could result in a bloody nose. so, most of the time, he leaves levi alone, brings him a cup of hot tea and says nothing to him. perhaps.. if he'd gone with that same strategy this time, levi's anger and erwin's frustration wouldn't have evolved so far. erwin is a patient man, but he has his limits, especially when he's being shouted at and levi is being nothing but chaotic and disrespectful. repeated insults, hands shoving against his chest over and over. hostility was high in the air, but erwin said nothing in return, merely glared down at the captain. if he needed this verbal release, then erwin has no problem with letting him have it. it's only until that last part    the brutal honesty of levi's words, the way the other doesn't seem to show even an ounce of regret for everything he has been spitting.. this has been carried on for far too long. by this point, it's as if he's purposely allowing and endorsing levi's harsh antics. he believes he deserves this, the feeling swelled in his chest, but a line had been stepped over, and levi needed to be reminded of his place.

outlast sentences.

{ ♚ }     to say that hearing the man’s voice terrified him would be an understatement. there is more than terror    there’s loathing, absolute and utter disgust. he has seen and heard what this man does without any sort of hesitation. albert wesker    better known as the groom by the patients of the asylum. erwin had tried to steer clear of his path, dreaded the idea of running across him. wesker was a large man, no doubt he was extremely strong. erwin wouldn’t stand a chance, not with his only weapon being his fists. he wanted to get out, wanted to return back to his home. he had enough footage to shut down murkoff for good, but he fears this footage will not reach outside the walls of this damned place. 

        he aches, aches so bad he has to chew on his tongue to keep groans down. all the sprinting, the jumping over objects, the jumping down an elevator shaft to avoid getting caught by him    by the groom. for all he knows, his leg could be broken. he  can deal with the pain once he gets out of here    if he does. cold sweat stains his skin, and of course, he doesn’t wait for even a second before he begins running.  with his injured leg, it’s impossible for him to run too fast, but fuck does he try. he hears the insults, the taunts, the repeated darlings which threaten to raise bile to his throat. blinding pain shoots everywhere when he climbs over one of the desks in his way, and he almost shouts. a wince sounds through, he stumbles, crashes to the ground. attempts to shove himself back onto his feet are wasted. typically, he’s a very composed man, but being yanked back by your hair by the person you’re running away from would make anyone shout in fear. he struggles    claws, punches, and he knows he scratched enough to draw blood, feels it underneath his fingernails. god ( if such a being even exists    if he does, how dare he allow a place like this to continue running? ) only knows how he hasn’t shattered his camera yet.