the commanders and their dearest second-in-command

@lausticzt asked:

❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

‘ He’s dead. ’ He was still breathing. It took all his strength just to keep on breathing. Didn’t they know he was listening ? He wanted to speak, but his body had shut down, only his conscience remaining. Witness to a familiar scene — he’s seen it happen before, laying helpless, his life at the mercy of others (and there was none). ‘ We got lucky. Our biggest threat covered in his own blood ’, ‘ I'll send a shot through his head ’. Oh. They wanted him dead.

The absurdity of human behavior could no longer surprise him — the soldiers he’d sacrifice himself for in a heartbeat, would turn their guns on him at the first chance given. Neither could the absurdity of his own nature — he held no resentment against them. He wouldn’t raise his blade even if he could still move his body. They still were his soldiers. Fighting in a world gone mad, desperately trying to make sense of their insignificant lives and all their efforts. An innocence he could relate to and gave up on many years ago — a painful transition he had to undergo, accept the futility of it all, in order to become strong enough to fight for a ridiculously hopeless cause. A few years ago, he could have been the one holding the gun, and pulled the trigger with no remorse whatsoever.

Suddenly, his body grew cold, and heavy. He was sinking, his body surrounded by water. He heard the faint sound of guns firing in the distance. Alone, running out of air, slowly losing the last of his senses, his consciousness (his existence) fading. It was peaceful. He wouldn’t feel any pain, or regret, a comforting numbness. Maybe, it wouldn’t be that bad for him to go– Zeke. He had to kill Zeke. Fulfill the vow he made on that day. Wait— Hadn’t he killed him? Hadn’t they killed Eren? Was it all a nightmare? Which was the real nightmare?

He couldn’t breathe. His throat closed, water filling up his lungs. He had to get to the surface. Even if he could move, he didn’t know how to swim. He was drowning. This wasn’t a dr—

Levi woke up in a violent coughing fit. He’d sit up, covering his mouth with his hand, trying to catch his breath. After long, he’d calm down, confused, still in a haze, trying to take in his surroundings. He was at a hospital. How many hours, how many days had passed, since they stopped the rumbling? He had been sleeping for the most time, beginning to lose track of time. Years of insomnia were his body’s defense against the cruel fabrications of his mind. Without that defense, sleeping longer would mean, nightmares he couldn’t escape from. Yet, there was no worse nightmare than the reality he had woken up in. A foreign place, his body damaged, the pain insufferable (physical or not). The purpose he had dedicated his entire life to serve was fulfilled. They had won, but lost everything along the way.

Feverish, they said he was. His body fighting some infection with a funny name. Quite ironic, the moment he allowed himself to rest, his body collapsed, gave up on him completely. He had been pushing his limits for far too long. Far too many years. The time for all scars to heal had come. A painful process he was forced to undergo, in order to stand back on his feet, and move forward.

In a lifetime of war, how was he supposed to find peace? His entire life he'd fight — for his life, for the life of others, for a cause — as if born to become a soldier. His edges sharpened, shaped into a tool. How was he supposed to turn back human, embrace the nature he was forced to deny for so long? When any future he used to dream of ended with dying on the battlefield, how was he supposed to accept the life ahead of him, ahead of them ? They weren’t soldiers anymore. They didn’t serve anyone, but themselves. They could only make choices for their own life, shape their own future. A different kind of freedom and the most dangerous of all.

In the short distance between them, lay an ocean of emotions, of everything they wouldn’t say. What were the exact feelings that brought her to his hospital room? He knew her heart, better than his own, better than anyone else’s, for he had been observing her closely for long, a challenge to understand, and a knowledge conquered kept close to his heart, valuable to keep. Still, despite claiming to know her, he couldn’t explain her presence here. Had she sensed his silent call for help? His shield had gotten damaged along with his body in the explosion, cracks making their appearance, ice blue eyes revealing the heartache within.

He wished to speak, but he was feeling weak. Not the same kind of weakness of his wrecked body, but an all-consuming heaviness of heart. ❝ You're here. ❞ He could start by acknowledging her presence, and maybe, he could later find the words to ask her to stay. ❝ How long have you been here? ❞ Had she been looking after him? What for? He wasn't strong enough any longer, nor was useful in any way. Fighting was over. There wasn't any reason for anyone to stay by his side.

@lausticzt || Smash or Pass

@lausticzt asked:

🍻 + reverse give me that very specific circumstance c:

Send "🍻"  for the receiver to take care of an intoxicated sender!

NOTE: I headcanon that post-war Levi's prescribed medications to manage the pain on his left leg, but the doctors of that age never warned him not to mix medications with alcohol, so here's the specific circumstance of drunk/high levi :D

A crime scene. His kitchen had turned into a crime scene— there was blood, shards of glass ( a sign that someone had put up a fight? ) and the victim ( and the culprit simultaneously ) sprawled on the floor, resigned to his fate. He was dying. Or so it seemed to Levi, trapped as he was in such a helpless situation.

It would be no exaggeration to claim that Levi hadn’t ever gotten drunk, not once in his entire life. A tolerance that seemed unnatural — but then, when had he ever fallen anywhere near the spectrum of normal? For someone whose favorite beverage was tea and who didn't have enough of an interest in alcohol, he made a good drinking companion. He wouldn’t drink for the same reasons others did— for that blissful escape that lightheadedness offered, for that temporary pause of numbness ( or even silliness for some ) that would help them forget their troubles. Alcohol couldn’t offer him that. But to watch his partner enjoy themselves like that, let loose and relax in their shared moments together, was his own reason for joining in.

It was a rare occurrence that he’d sit on his own to drink. Falco had brought him a present— a bottle of whiskey that he claimed tasted different from others and that he bought specifically for him, before he and Gabi would leave for the next few weeks. He should have expected the kid wouldn’t know how to pick a drink, Falco trying to act like a grown-up by choosing a present that any grown-up was supposed to enjoy— Levi would have appreciated a poorly-made card or meal just as much. It was too sweet for his liking, but he’d make sure to honor the boy’s selection. After three glasses, he started to realize its effects.

Disconnected, he felt. Disconnected from his body, his environment, his own mind—everything suddenly felt completely alien. Doing the simplest task had become complicated, a series of many steps he couldn’t follow. His thoughts scattered, wandering to places far away from where he was, to where he couldn’t chase them— all reason was lost, leaving him to function with only a heart that was beating too loudly inside his chest and a body that wouldn’t listen to him.

Back to the crime scene. There was a chance he wouldn’t die alone, after all. There was someone knocking on his door, but Levi was in no state to cover that distance, nor could he hear the knocking over the loud whistling of the kettle, which he had never taken off the stove. The evidence implied that a few minutes ago, Levi, in his disoriented state of mind, had managed to get up and try to make himself some tea. Somehow, someway, he must have dropped his cup, which broke into pieces, and in his attempt to clean it up, he had fallen on the floor, on top of the shards. If he didn't die from his heart giving out, he assumed that he’d die from bleeding. And yet, he seemed indifferent to that idea, having surrendered, lying with his back on the floor, staring at a ceiling he didn't ever remember having stars.

The door opened, heavy steps approached, and the whistling stopped, only to be replaced by a loud voice calling out his name. ❝ Don’t yell. ❞ A weak complaint. His stargazing was interrupted by her figure looming over him. Laura. He’d always considered her to be beautiful, but he didn't remember her having stars either. His eyes, despite the state he was found in, had remained sharp as always, even though nothing she said seemed to reach him. ❝ I think I’m dying, ❞ he stated, once again utterly indifferent to that prospect. It seemed like the only reasonable explanation, even if he had long lost any ability to think reasonably. Was that bottle of whiskey tainted, like those bottles of wine they had been given on that day? It must have been his fault. Zeke. That damn bastard. Even after death, he’d cause him trouble.

reposting for personal use only | don't interact with this post

lausticzt || levi & laura 💕

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭-𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 ◞ 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊 . ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ @naitfall ⤸ “ tell  me  what  you  want. “ ( I can't resist sending you a meme . . . only if / when laura feels like it! )

How can he say that so calmly, while she struggles to hold his gaze ... a stillness in their serene that captures Laura's breath, any response she could have given hitching in her throat. Suffocating all of it / he's close enough she can feel his warmth, the feeling that she's being towered over by someone shorter then her by proximity alone, his scent completely overpowering her senses ... his eyes.

She's seen them soften, apparent even in his sharp expression, because she watches (...) more then she should. Her gaze always finding their way over to him in most scenarios. In those rare, often gruelling times of the life they lead, the brief glimpses before they revert again because it's easier to pretend ... everyone is out for themselves / all con men, with no true remorse. A witness to it, time and time again, and yet, she never believed it with them. Not him.

Levi is more human then most in every way maybe in the only way she knows. It's why she'd grown to trust him, completely. She strays from time to time, because trust was all so vulnerable. But, she never second guesses his words, doesn't have to watch out for masked lies and deceit, the way her world often disgusted her / the inner walls was a hell, where most idolised the stage play of wealth and professed perfection.

In a way, he embodied what she'd loved about the world beyond that. Raw in it's form, nothing to hide from ... in flaws, and the hardship of it's harrowing truth, was undoubtedly real. Normal in it's abnormality, to find true understanding and kinship within their world. Nothing to hold back on, nothing left to conceal. That was freeing.

Suffocating and not once did she feel she was drowning. Awkward as eyes shift, attempting to keep a steady gaze while her body runs hot. There's no silencing the pounding in her heart, she feels the growing warmth in her cheeks, burning at her ears, the lightest twitch in her eye.

It's humiliating how flustered she could still get when she's been in more intimate positions before. Laura is overbearingly commanding. It should be the other way around, she wishes to tell herself. But she can't think of anything else right now, aside from him.

And, god, does she need a moment. A hand covers half her face, finally shifting away from him, can't even mutter a curse under her breath at her own ridiculousness it's his fault, she decided. He gave her control. What she wanted.

❝ ... don't say anything. ❞ Until she gathered what dignity she had left to look at him again, to reveal the insanity of indescribable fluster that currently embodied her. A weak threat. She doesn't want him to go anywhere / don't move.

In the midst of battle, he had found himself. His instincts on alert, senses heightened, muscles tensed. He could hear the irregular beat of her heart, could see the tiniest changes in the way her eyes flickered, could sense her breath tremble. With his body on top of hers— this was no different than battle, than fighting for one’s life. They both fought for each other’s heart, body, and soul. Laura fought for control, while Levi fought for an opening, to go further within, to reveal the parts of her buried and forgotten.

The tactics of battle, to blend with one’s surroundings, to observe, and adapt. He’d watch for her reactions, learn through the little information he had, try not to lose his sanity when slowly but steadily he was getting absorbed by the heat of their bodies, getting lost in the intensity of her eyes. He hadn’t been in more intimate positions before.

A foreign experience to him, never before having shortened the distance between, never before having let anyone (not even himself) see him as whole, his body and heart in sync, for who he was and how he carried himself to align— when had it become a habit, to act the opposite of how he felt? Affection of this kind was foreign to Levi, and for once, maybe for the first time, he was at a loss what to do.

She understood, didn’t see? Even when she pretended to refuse to look at him, when she pretended to look down on him, when she tried to escape his sight, when she believed it was easier to hate him, than to accept him. She always understood, more than anyone else could. Even if they always stood on opposite sides, even if their natures were meant to collide, they had always fought for survival— of humanity, and the remnants of hope and kindness deep within them, the parts they’d deny.

Naked they’d be, both body and soul, the entirety of their existence exposed, to explore, to worship, to consume. Like a wolf, on top of its prey. Yet never he had seen her as one, never could have, for she was a hunter herself, ready to devour him with the same burning passion.

Control, she sought. Levi never would have denied her — never truly had, even when it seemed like he’d challenge her, even when he’d doubt her. Was it an opponent she needed, someone to blame, or someone to bring her back to her senses, he’d take up the role, even if it’d cost him, even if the distance between them would grow wider. Anything, as long as she could make terms with her pride, for Levi knew what it was like to have such a tight noose around one’s neck. Anything, as long as she wouldn’t suffocate, same way he had a few years ago when he lost everything.

Frozen, he’d stare with prying eyes, trying to make sense of her reaction, surprise even if subtle written on his face. He hadn’t known what to expect. If he didn't know her like the palm of his hand, he would have moved away already, retreated, given her space. Instead, Levi remained silent as ordered, still, surrendered, patiently waiting for her to show him what she wanted, what she desired, what she needed of him.

He'd do anything within his power to make sure she could stay TRUE to herself, for that required an immense amount of strength, in a world that forced them all to change.

— Levi & Laura. ( lausticzt )