#—◆ laura alexander (lausticzt) | beautiful. furious. radiant. I love you with fury— to choke you with all my soul. with all my blood

[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

[knightinspicyarmor]

continued thread || @lausticzt

Despair. Countless were the tragedies Levi had gone through, tragedies in which despair would accompany him. Why was it such intense desperation he felt at a moment like this? Not in loss, but for her tender touch— for it was just another tragedy, how much deprived he was of affection, of the gentle hold of someone. In her touch, even if faint, he’d surrender completely. His entire being placed upon her arms. He had given her CONTROL, and completely LOST his own. How blissful, for once to surrender one’s will— for all voices to stop, the world going quiet, listening only to the beat of their hearts. Tense nerves and muscles relaxed, and so did his mind— growing comfortably and peacefully numb, all the rage to drive him eased.

It was common knowledge, how somebody could easily lose oneself in LOVE. Their lips connect, and all connection to himself is lost— the rate of his heartbeat, the air to reach his lungs, his whole body, were all hers to command as she wished. He’d lean on her hold, his eyes closed ( for a moment longer ), in a failed attempt to find composure, take in feelings he didn’t know where to place inside himself. Intoxicating was her touch, such desire affecting his ability to think— he couldn’t, as if PARALYSED, any sense long lost. Any sense of control long lost— he hadn’t any choice, which could be freeing. It was freeing, just for a moment to lose himself in love. (?) . . . Was it for sure, that his real self lied in the absence of all affection? Was he LOST, or FOUND instead, re-discovering through her love, who he truly was?

Levi could hold his breath for much longer, he recalled. Except his heart wouldn’t normally beat in such an irregular rhythm, not even in the brick of death— in absolute SYNC to hers, dancing out of tune, to one that was their own. Their lips parted, and he found himself unable to breathe properly, as if there wasn’t any other way for air to reach his lungs than stealing hers. When was the last time he wished for something that wasn’t his own? Such childish rage boiled within him, to CLAIM. Only she could re-awaken such feelings, feelings long forgotten, and some that had never been acknowledged— there was innocence in his inexperience. Parts of him undiscovered, that hadn’t yet taken shape, untouched by cruelty or violence, unformed yet, for Laura to claim as her own ( for his body and mind hadn’t known yearning for another ).

Dark was the room, only the moonlight to light up their most discreet features. In darkness all senses but sight — ( hearing, smell, taste, touch ), all rest of their senses — would be heightened, for their bodies to learn one another as much as their souls already did. To see her even through touch, to listen in silence, same as when her eyes spoke to him, contradicting herself at most times, yet transparent.

‘ I want you ’, she said. But what could he possibly offer, as if she already hadn’t all of him. And yet these few simple words ignited something in him— eyes opened, as if given enough confidence to properly look at her. Less hesitant in his movements he’d be, his hand placed on top of hers, of the hand she held his face with. How much he wished for the imprint of her touch, her warmth, to forever remain on his skin, in contrast to her own demand. Why was it, only violence left permanent marks on their bodies? Each had their own scars, wounds long closed, some never properly cared for. Both had neglected such injuries ( of both body and soul ), pretending they didn’t sting or ache, hadn’t they? For the sake of keeping moving forward. Parts of them that right at this moment, demanded affection and care.

He held her hand, tight in his own yet gentle, before he brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. Led by instinct alone, his mind surrendered, his body moving on its own. A gentle kiss. Then another one. Another one. One more. Never in his life had he been greedy, nor starved enough for anything. His appetite insatiable, to be seen past any self-made shield or armor— as if merged with his skin, no longer able to remove it. Only her touch could break its cover. A kiss on her wrist followed, before he placed her hand back on its rightful place, his cheek, and leant forward for a longer, slower, deeper kiss. Mimicking hers, quite skilled in coping as he was, a slow and steady kiss, as if meant to steady the beat of their hearts once again— to satisfy that burning feeling on his stomach, a fire that burnt stronger the more he lost himself in those lips of hers. His hand wrapped around her waist, arched, her stomach pressed against his. To dance she asked. Even if inexperienced, even if he didn’t know the steps, he would.

Once they’d break the kiss to breathe, he buried his face in her neck, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, once again seeking for WARMTH. The underground was a cold place. Levi once believed the upper ground would be different, that this world illuminated by light would be much warmer, and so would be its creatures, but he was mistaken. How easily all beings were meant to lose warmth, succumbing to darkness— their own, or that of the fate none could escape from. Death. Her hand, her breath, her skin. He wanted to remember how it felt, to be held by such warmth. Would she one day lose warmth as well? Would he be there, to hold her hand, feel her body grow COLD? Was his touch cold, he wondered. For he already was half a corpse, parts of him dead. Did she mind? Did she mind, if not just his body, but also his eyes kept holding coldness?

❝ Roger that. ❞ His free hand slipped low, to her thigh, memorizing every curve of hers. Every slight change in her breath, every blink in her eyes. He was wrong— desire wasn’t that unfamiliar to him after all, for Levi always had an irresistible desire to UNDERSTAND. The biggest challenge she had been and still was, yearning to reach the deepest parts of her. Gently he pressed on her thigh, for her leg to wrap around his. In dance, one would step on the feet of the one most experienced. Instead, he’d ask her to step on his, dance to a beat that didn’t seem to have a steady pace. Rebelling, the only way they knew how to exist. And Levi, taking on another challenge— fighting against gravity, and which hold on her was stronger.

What feels like an eternity to steady her breath instead passes by with every slow, controlled exhale. Her gaze, now fixated, gently studies him  …  watches, feels, listens to his own tentative breath. How he stills without a word, the lightest trace of surprise still lingering in those eyes that could so often cut right through her, could see everything  …  the very eyes which were focused on nothing else but her.

Nowhere else to look  /  no place to escape from it. As her fluster settles to a steady beat, she finds that fact intoxicating. Can't deny it. How often she avoided when that focus when it lingered towards her (if she weren't petty enough to return it with a stare of her own; when she hadn't been caught looking his way) when that underlying part of her wanted him to. More then that, she wanted to see him.

No need for prying, no suspicious glares and over speculating, no need to try and read him. In those ticking seconds of composure, she finds her pulse quickens regardless ; but any sense to hide behind walls left her. Nothing else matters. But him. Her. For this moment, she can let go. Take in everything, let the world come to a halt ... slowed and steady as the hand she raises towards him.

Laura hasn't answered him yet. Instead, her fingers brush loose strands away from his face. Soft. Touch slowly moves to stroke down his cheek, lightly cupping his face with one hand; hair which slipped through her fingers fell back and she, in turn, kept most at bay. She isn't perfect. Undesirable without the façade crafted atop of even more lies. No virgin, even prior to her veiled marriage, the scarring across her abdomen, the irreversible damage, all a distain to those in the inner walls. She didn't care. Though now, she admits, a level of insecurity tries to latch at her, makes it hard to have it on display / but, despite this, she finds herself unable to focus much on that.

Levi is captivating. Stupidly so. For all her time watching him, she hadn't paid much attention to his closer features. Maybe, his softer expression, however fixed, is rarer to see up close. Laura is ultimately selfish. As thumb moves to brush against his bottom lip, she finds she doesn't want anyone else to witness this sight.

If just touching him is enough to make her quiver, however slightly, she was going to have to steady those aching urges. Because she still wants control. See how little and how much gets a rise out of him. What she'll know about him. What he'll know about her. Eyes drift down to his lips, flickering to meet his gaze once, before returning. It's okay, because he'd given her control.

“ What do I want ... ” His words repeated, her own voice whispered, if not unsteady; if nerves were her obstacle, then she'd have to overcome. When she lifts herself up it's immediate, and still lips trace over his delicately. A tender, modest kiss, because she was to pull away to answer.

But the moment she had, only a beat passes by; because words etch in her throat. Because eyes, fluttering open, had once again looked to him for a moment, a strained inhale passed her lips, warmth burning in her chest, before both hands cup his face, with a sudden shift of eagerness / all thought is thrown out the window.

Shivers wash down her back as she closes the gap between their mouths, once a gentle touch almost lost to it's fierce yearning. Wrapping arms around his neck she gives no other choice then to press close, her breathing heavy between what little time she gave them to part / feeling his breath tickle against her lips in response. His scent, warmth, are overwhelming to her senses, devouring, and she unwilling to resist. Laura wasn't greedy. Yet, she'd lunged like a starving beast none the less.

Until her lungs beg does she finally break away. Parting with a deep inhale, her lips still hover over his, each intake of breath strained as she exhales in a shudder. The pounding in her chest gets no respite, cheeks burning a deep hue across her face that even the cold nights could not remedy. Compose. Arms slack around his neck, giving her a chance to separate ... her chest rises and falls with every attempt to dignify herself.

“ I want ... ” Even in a fluster, she manages to pull her lips into a frown, but each time she tries to furrow her expression, she falters. A light quiver in her lips, suddenly losing her nerve. Such infuriation echoes in her lingered embarrassment, however weak it was. Head turns to the side, gaze only flickering to him as she gathers her words. Saying her wants out loud proved challenging. Never had she been asked. Never had she needed to answer. It doesn't steady her growing fluster.

“ Then. I just want, you. ” Laura manages to pull her eyes back to his. Arms retreat slowly, allowing hands to caress down his neck. “ Touch me ... kiss me, everywhere. Just ... dance with me. ”

Even as her voice is hesitant, soft, she quickly finds a way to bring back her authoritative stare, albeit a wavering one. “ But if you leave a mark anywhere, I will make you regret it. ” A weak, weak threat, but one not to be messed with / She's not fragile. Far, far from it.

[gone-naitfall]

tag drop. ft. @lausticzt

—◆ laura alexander (lausticzt) | beautiful. furious. radiant. I love you with fury— to choke you with all my soul. with all my blood

[naitfall]

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 )

[naitfall]

laura & levi, ( @lausticzt ) after years of knowing each other, sharing a mutual bond of deep care and affection, a connection beyond their understanding, a love that's pure and selfless, and . . . [inserts ten paragraphs of rumbling about them]:

laura & levi, still fighting over the way levi holds his cup:

[naitfall]

connected to this thread || a handkerchief can mean much more than one could expect [ @lausticzt ]

❝ You were talking in your sleep. ❞ He had been watching her sleep. An interesting sight, interesting enough that these days, he didn’t mind his own insomnia, nor how unusual it was to sleep in a bed, lay by the side of someone he was afraid of losing. He'd watch her breathe, the proof she was alive. He'd remain close, to feel her body’s warmth. ❝ You were drooling. ❞ From his pocket, he took out his handkerchief to wipe her face. A borrowed one, from many years ago. From someone whose face he couldn't any longer recall, but whose memory remained, even if blurry. Someone who had shown him kindness, before he forgot all about it, before he was thrown back into a ring, to fight for his life.

❝ Was it a good dream? ❞ She had a calm expression on her face. One he hadn't seen her wear many times before.

[naitfall]

continued thread with @lausticzt because the stupid shit called tumblr wouldn't let me cut the post

She wasn’t a threat. Not another enemy he’d have to eliminate. He hadn’t imagined such people continued to exist, innocent and kind. At first, it was hard for him to understand, to accept she could have something he any longer hadn’t— a heart that remained pure. To accept between the two of them, he was the only real threat. The more time he had to inspect her and study her, the closer he got, the more certain he became of something. She was familiar.

He used to be like her, didn't he? There was no reflection, no light in those pretty eyes of hers— it didn’t make sense, for she was raised under the sun, wasn’t she? How could she be gazing with dimmed eyes when met with such violent light? Maybe, it was easier to be lost in darkness, instead of searching for a way out. It was easier, to be only part a person. To exist, but not entirely, in a world that was far too painful, far too cruel, and unfair to those who had decided on experiencing in full. He knew, for he had once been the same. Once bore the same dull eyes, the same unfocused gaze.

A world of their own his mother had made for him, an escape from the reality they were doomed to. Who would ever want to know any other reality, than that of the warm embrace of his mother? She’d place her hands in front of his eyes, her touch gentle.

‘Keep your eyes closed. Don’t look.’

He had promised he wouldn't, and Levi never disobeyed his mother. It wasn't a child's curiosity, for curiosity is something you're either born with or taught. It was his inner instinct to look after her when he'd peek, see in between fingers, to understand what she meant to protect him from, the dangers she exposed herself for his sake. He was far too young when he realized the sacrifices his mother had made. He'd pretend he didn't understand, close his eyes once again. He had found SHELTER in a prison that was their own. In denial, to break free.

How easy, for one to sink underwater, where no sound would reach him, where no screams or cries could be heard. The deeper he'd sink, the more silent and dark were the waters, and the more peaceful was to exist. To drown, was easier than to battle to get to the surface. Levi didn't want to FIGHT. It was Kenny, who had forced him to get out of water. For air he'd gasp ever since, driven by a burning desire to breathe, and to survive. In her, in the eyes of the younger girl, he'd see who he once was. He never had a choice, to remain the same or change. But maybe, she was different.

The question was: would she ever break free? did she want to? would they force her?

She opposed no threat, but she wasn't a force to be ignored. Before he could react, she'd closed the distance between them. As if ready to snarl or bite at first, he got caught by sweet words, her tender way of speaking, and didn’t realize when her handkerchief made contact with bruised skin. ❝ Ah! ❞ A broken sound, half surprise, half a sob. Her touch. . . He didn’t move away, obedient, just like he would have been if it was her wiping his face, instead of the girl. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could see her. Mom. But when eyes opened again, any hostility was replaced with deep sorrow and melancholy.

He had to fight his instinct, to lean on her touch. He would remain frozen, instead. Embarrassed and growing mad at himself, for even finding comfort in the false idea of being close to her again. There was no substitute to find. How could he even feel a sense of connection? He was disgusting. And yet, he hadn’t the heart to pull away. Instead, he’d feel his eyes burn, his heartbeat fast and unsteady, his throat closed. He wouldn’t cry. He thought he had already run out of tears. He’d bite his lip, to focus on the pain. Mom. I’m sorry.

His mother would sew his ripped clothes. When they got dirty, she'd wash them with care, even when she'd struggle with the slightest effort. She'd be the one to cut his hair, even when her hands had started to tremble. When he had something on his face, she'd wipe his face and give him a kiss on his cheek. He wouldn't do those things on his own, because he waited for when she'd get better, for when she could get out of bed again, when he'd feel her tender touch again. But she never recovered. Instead, a strange doll would offer to wipe the dirt off his face. Innocent and kind, unbeknownst to her, there was dirt, his blood, and the blood of others to paint his face. It was a long time ago, since the last time he hadn’t been touched with the intent to be beaten, or killed.

Her question helped him recollect himself. ❝ Everywhere is dirty, ❞ he protested. A petty excuse, he was aware. ❝ Dirt’s like a disease. You may avoid it, but you’ll still catch it. ❞ Truth was, he had a handkerchief of his own. A piece of his mother’s dress, kept safe in his good pocket, more valuable than any money he could ever get his hands on. He wouldn’t get it dirty, wouldn’t wipe the blood and dirt off his face. And yet, she hadn't minded using her own, clean and with a scent that was foreign. She didn’t mind getting close to him. She looked at him as if he was someone different, not someone to be disgusted with, or afraid of. Such a strange doll.

❝ Where are your parents? ❞ Wouldn't they be worried? That she had found a stray. Afraid, she might catch some disease. That he might break their beautiful doll. That their doll might be stolen.

[naitfall]

tag drop #2

Mains.

—◆ farlan church (vonbirden) | ‘that is your friend?’ philtatos— he responded. most beloved

—◆ isabel magnolia (gyofukuki) | you're the one— to take my soul and make it undone. the one— to take me home and show me the sun

—◆ kenny ackerman (vonbirden) | a stray. abandoned on the street. eternally and senselessly waiting for him to return

—◆ historia reiss (gyofukuki) | what they hear isn't laughter. it's her voice learning for once to stand up tall

—◆ erwin smith (gyofukuki) | oh boy your eyes betray what burns inside you. is there any chance you could see me too?

—◆ hange zoe (pinksopaque) | they looked my demons in the eye and smiled. they fell for the very thing i thought they'd fear

—◆ laura alexander (lausticzt) | beautiful. furious. radiant. I love you with fury— to choke you with all my soul. with all my blood

Bonds.

—◆ erwin smith | i knew that i came to face someone whose personality was so fascinating. if i allowed it would absorb my whole nature

—◆ levi & erwin | and in the end we were just humans. . . drunk on the idea that our efforts could heal our brokenness

—◆ levi & eren | quiet now— you're gonna wake the beast. hide your soul out of his reach