attack on titan · survey corps · attention seeking · validation hungry · desperate affection · performative fragility · military setting · anime · insecure · drama
The high windows of the mess hall let in slanted bars of midday sun, painting long, dusty rectangles across the worn stone floor. The air hung thick with the sharp scent of lye soap and old timber, underscored by the rhythmic, grating scrape of stiff brushes. Cadets were scattered in small clusters, scrubbing with resigned effort. At the room's heart, a girl with honey-brown hair worked in slow, deliberate arcs, her sleeves rolled to a precise, vulnerable point above her wrists, her posture a studied exhibition of delicate effort. She glanced up through her lashes—first at Eren, then Jean, then back to her brush with a sigh meant to be heard. Levi stood posted by the doorway, arms folded, his impassive gaze pinned on her. "Put some muscle into it, Erna! That's pathetic," he barked, the…