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fanmoose12 · 1 year ago

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“Petra fancies you.”

So abrupt and indelicate – what else should Levi expect from his own personal cause of headache, Hange Zoe? Well, if he was being honest with himself, he fully expected that by now she’d already get on top of the table in the center of the cafeteria and start what only she can classify as dancing. That’s what she usually does when she has as much alcohol as Levi had noticed she’d consumed tonight.

But, apparently, that course of action has gotten a bit too boring and predictable for Hange’s ever-changing tastes.

So, now she decides to pester him of all people.

Levi isn’t so easy to pester, though, so he does the most logical thing one can in such a predicament – he does his best to ignore Hange’s presence entirely. He stares resolutely into his own cup of piss that people around here deem good enough to call beer, and hopes that Hange would get bored of him and his silence swiftly and move onwards to find another victim.

That, however, doesn’t happen.

Hange doesn’t bulge, as though she had been glued to the chair right beside him, and she stares. Intently. Levi can practically feel the force of that stare on the back of his head.

And when it becomes too unbearable even for him, he sighs, shifts a bit in his seat, tilts his head upwards to meet Hange’s eyes and asks a pointless, “What?”

Giddy that her ruse had worked, Hange moves closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She does so without his consent, without so much as mumbling a question. She invades his personal space like it isn’t much of an obstacle to her, like for her - it does not even exist. She always does it, and for some reason that Levi fears to find – he always lets her.

And Hange’s insolence, unfortunately, does not stop there. No, it grows, evolves, and so she gets even closer, and before Levi can utter a single sound of protest or, at least, throw at her a dirty look that will prove to be absolutely useless against her lack of manners, she unceremoniously, downright shamelessly, throws her legs onto his lap.

“Petra,” she whispers, embracing him with both the retching stench of beer and intoxicating heat of her body, “fancies you.”

Levi stays put – against his better judgment, despite all the warnings that are blasting in his head louder than the bells that announce the opening of gates that lead to the dangers of the world beyond the walls. He doesn’t kick Hange, doesn’t even curse, he stays put – because he has to. Because otherwise Hange’ll think him weak. Or, worse, she’ll get ideas, funny ones. And, clearly, she has too many of them already.

“And you know this how?” he asks, again – against his better judgment.

Hange throws her head back and laughs – loudly, and, Levi thinks, a bit wickedly.

“Because I have eyes, silly. And only a blind would miss the looks she constantly throws at you. Gods, the girl wants you to devour her. Or, maybe, she intends on doing the devouring—”

The thought, the mental image that Hange so effectively painted in his head stirs an unpleasant feeling in Levi. His insides churn uncomfortably, like he’s about to puke. The thought is… a troubling one. Petra is a nice girl, a pretty one, there is absolutely no denying that. One, as Hange had put it, would have to be completely blind not to know that. And, despite what some may say about him, Levi, in fact, is not blind to the appearances of others.

However, viewing Petra in that particular regard has never occurred to him. Not even once has it crossed his mind.

Petra is a member of his squad, she’s his subordinate, she’s someone that he was entrusted to teach, guide and – if possible – protect. That is his duty, one he tries very hard to fulfill. And, no matter how beautiful she is, he can’t see her as anyone else, rather than his subordinate.

“Aww,” Hange places her head on his shoulder, and steals his cup, taking a generous sip from it, while Levi is too busy debating his next move. Should he be the responsible one, throw the drunken idiot over his shoulder and carry that embarrassment back to her room before she makes an even bigger fool out of herself, or should he simply kick her down to the floor and leave before she manages to stand up straight enough to follow after him? “You don’t like her?”

Levi doesn’t give an answer, although it seems that Hange doesn’t actually need one. She takes another gulp of beer, puts the cup back down on the table with enough force that the table rattles and the liquid splashes all around, and launches into a rant that is surprisingly passionate – especially considering that its subject has nothing to do with her beloved Titans.

“Why don’t you like Petra back? She is amazing! Kind, and smart, and cute, and skilled, and so, so graceful! Honestly, among all of our comrades, she’s like an angel, an actual ray of light amidst all these horrors! Most would kill to get us lucky as you are!”

“So why are you still here?” Levi drawls, glancing at Hange from the corner of his eyes. She looks absolutely wild – with cheeks flashed, glasses askew and practically slipping down her nose and hair in more state of disarray than Levi ever remembers seeing. Hange is a mess personified, a compilation of everything Levi despises combined in one single person, and yet – for some reason, he finds that he cannot find the strength to look away from the radiant spectacle in front of him. “If you like her so, why sit here with me, if you can go and woo her?”

“I just told you! She sees no one but you. And besides,” Hange’s voice grows quiet, her whole demeanor dims, becomes more timid, as her cheeks get just a bit redder than before and she mumbles, “She’s not really my type, you know?”

“Hm,” Levi nods, and – because teasing can go both ways, and, that, without a doubt, what Hange absolutely deserves for all her mocking – adds. “You must really not like her then.”

“Eh? Why would you say that? Just because I don’t like her in that way, I—”

“Because you sit here,” Levi says, interrupting what almost surely would have turned into another infuriating word vomit. “Practically draped all over me, while Petra is in the very same room. What would she think when she sees us like that, huh?”

Hange opens her mouth, blinks a few times, her gaze rapidly shifting between Levi’s face and the corner that Petra and other members of his squad are occupying. She looks so damn clueless in that moment, in equal parts confused and ashamed that Levi can’t help but revel in the lost expression on her face.

Not many are able to stun Hange Zoe into silence, after all.

“Oh… I… I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah, you’re shit at this kind of thing.”

Hange begins to pull away, nearly gets to her feet – or, well, at least, she tries to. Levi doesn’t let her, though, and instead wraps an arm around her waist, bringing her even closer to him. Hange doesn’t try to wiggle out of his hold, and – strangely – doesn’t even comment on their rather curious position. She stays still and silent, absorbed in thought.

Whatever it is that’s going through her genius mind right now, Levi doesn’t particularly wish to know.

Hange is quiet, Hange was beaten at her own game by none other than him, and what’s most important – she’s right next to him, wrapped securely in the circle of his arms.

Levi can’t help but enjoy it, delight in this brief moment of peace. It��s not often that life grants him a chance to taste what real joy feels like.

But it’s Hange fucking Zoe that is with him. So, naturally, that peace is laughably short-lived.

She starts squirming, but not with intent to leave, as Levi immediately begins to fear. Instead, she just tilts her face up and searches for his eyes, holding his gaze, when she finds them.

“Say, Levi,” she begins in a tone that can – and definitely does – mean trouble. “If you weren’t sitting with me right now, but, let’s say, with Petra, would you still—”

Levi clicks his tongue and cuts Hange off before this nonsense goes far enough to ruin the moment entirely.

“Shut up, four-eyes,” he grunts curtly, but – without even a hint of malice that his words intended. “Let’s just… stay like this. Preferably, in silence.”

As much as he enjoys the sound of her voice – and he does, although he’d never admit it to her face, there is enough ruckus in the room without Hange’s insistent blabbering adding to the chaos.

She throws a curious look at him, but, thankfully, doesn’t argue. She snuggles closer to him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

Levi swallows a content sigh. This… this feels nice.

Whatever is that type that Hange had mentioned, he isn’t sure he has one. But what he’s absolutely sure of is that he likes this – having Hange so close to him that he can feel the warmth radiating from her body. Even the smell of sweat she hasn’t washed off for god knows how long and the inescapable stench of beer that hangs all over her like a particularly nasty cloud cannot sour this moment for Levi. And if it were Petra in her place, or Nifa, Nanaba, Mike, or any other man or woman, Levi is sure none of them could make him feel so warm, so at peace with just their presence.

“Someday,” Hange murmurs, as she absentmindedly picks at the fabric of his shirt. She sounds sleepy, Levi can’t help but note. It seems like he’ll have no choice but carry her to her room, after all. But – later, just a bit later. This moment is way too precious for him to cut it off so soon. “We’ll have to talk about—” Hange gestures vaguely – “this whole thing. But – not today. Not when I’m so drunk. I want,” she looks up again, meeting his eyes with a smile that snatches Levi’s breath right out of his lungs, “to be sober when I say this to you. I want to remember how your face looks when you hear it.”

What is that thing that Hange to say to him? What is it that she so badly wants him to hear?

Whatever it is, Levi wants Hange to say it. He wants to hear it. And – there are some things he needs to tell Hange too. Things – that for now – he’s afraid to reveal even to himself.

And when – or if – the time for such confessions will come, he wants to remember Hange’s face too. Down to every detail.

But now, it’s not the time to ponder on such things. Now, he has a drunken idiot he needs to take care of.

So with a sigh, Levi raises to his feet, lifting Hange along with him, not letting go of her even for a second.

After all, where would he be without his ridiculous four-eyes?

#see???? i've told i'm back hehe #levihan

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dershloopmain · 4 years ago

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How Each Of The Boys Would React To Splinter’s Death (Donnie)

Donnie tapped his fingers idly, unable to concentrate on anything. No project nor book could hold his attention, hell not even video games could at this point. The strange thing was, he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sad, per se. More… demoralized. Sadness had a distinct grip on him, it had done the first few days after but now? He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. Was he supposed to feel sad still? Or was he supposed to be ‘’over it’’ by now? Emotions really weren’t his forte- they never had been. He’d read a paper about grieving to try and understand how he was supposed to feel, maybe even help him verbalise how he was feeling but it hadn’t worked. Nothing had. No website or paper or book had. All it had done was open a pit in his stomach he couldn’t close. He feared if it stayed open for much longer it would eat him alive.

He let out a long, over-exaggerated groan, hoping to rouse some kind of feeling. Nothing. At this point, he was willing to bash his head against a wall if it meant he’d feel something. The lack of productivity was beginning to take its own toll on Donnie’s soul, all the projects he could have finished and books he could have read… but it couldn’t be healthy stewing on that. Probably less healthy that slamming his head or any body part into a brick wall. He was pretty sure he’d heard Raph do that earlier. However, he couldn’t be sure. Normally, it would only be 10 minutes and his red-bandana-bearing brother would be standing at the door to his lab nursing a bloody knuckle and little explanation to how he’d gotten it. To be honest, though, the plaster and grime embedded in the wound told the story on its own.

Donnie had almost wished he had come to his lab to get his knuckles bandaged up. Not only because if he didn’t an infection would be imminent, but also because he was lonely. You’d think being ina polyamorous relationship would fulfil any kind of looming loneliness but you’d be surprised. To be fair, it probably would have done if he’d actually replied to the dozens of messages sat on his phone from April and Casey alike. He didn’t want them to see him like this- it’d just worry them more. It wasn’t like he was really eating, or sleeping for that matter. His eyes sported even bigger, blue-er eyebags and his cheeks and jaw bone had become even more prominent. It wasn’t like he was particularly muscly or even big to start but now it was just embarrassing. They’d lose their minds if they saw or thin he was now, and not in a good way. Though, he’d be lying to himself if he said any part of him looked good, even before this entire debacle.

It had been a while- a long long while- since they’d all spoken properly. Not just April, Casey and him. All of them. His brothers. The most he’d heard was the occasional stary sob from a room or the sound of Raph slamming his drums loud enough that he was sure the entirety of new york could hear it clearly. He needed to get out but… he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave this place. He couldn’t leave the city either. Where would he even go? Casey still had family and it wasn’t as if April’s dad would be particularly happy about an impromptu visit-turned-stay.

He put his head in his hands and just gave up. Like he’d never given up before. Donnie didn’t give up. He was a scientist, an inventor. It wasn’t in his nature to give up, but yet here he was. Giving up. Don wasn’t even sure what giving up entailed. Did it mean he would have to find a new passion? A new role in the group? But if he wasn’t smart he didn’t have anything. He was just the skinny weak one who had nothing but his brains. He wasn’t as altruistic and charismatic as Leo, he couldn’t light up a room as Mikey could and he was nowhere near as fiery and strong and just so… brave like Raph was. Or did giving up entail just accepting that life was different now their father was gone? Would that even classify as giving up? Or was that just moving on, getting over it. Was that just the smart thing to do? He was the smart one after all. Was that a smart idea? It couldn’t be. It seemed so plainly obvious yet so forbidden and selfish.

Donnie wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Had Splinter even loved him? Leo was always the golden child, he was the leader, the chosen son and now the sensei AND leader of the Hamato clan? Why was no one else legible for that position? Sure he was the one with the most experienced but it wasn’t as if he or Mikey had even been given the chance to try and lead so how did everyone know they weren’t better fit for the job? He knew he shouldn’t complain, Leo was a great leader and all, way better than Raph was, but he couldn’t help but feel like all of splinters energy went into him and not the other 3. What a shit dad.

He scolded himself. Disrespectful much? If anyone knew you though that… they’d kill me. Leo would be so mad, Raph would definitely kick me to the moon and Mikey… I couldn’t do that to him out of everyone. The truth was, he loved Mikey. He wasn’t the smartest but he was so genuine and sweet it was unreal, he hadn’t thought anyone on earth could be that… bright and kind. Sure, he could be annoying but that added to his charm. Just a silly little kid yet so supportive and loving. When you have an impulsive and over-emotional asshat of a brother and another brother so stiff he may as well be a 4x4, the 3rd being kind and caring really made a difference. Mikey recognised his mistakes even if he didn’t always immediately own up to them. He was bright in his own way and way better with emotions than he was.

He let out a shaky breath. He was so tired. So, so tired. All he wanted was to sleep and sleep and sleep and just never wake up but he knew he couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep, what if something happened? What if someone attacked the lair? It wasn’t exactly likely, but knowing his luck he’d be utterly out cold if something did happen.

A sharp buzz startled him out of his thoughts. He’d muted his chat with April and Casey so who the hell was texting him? Donnie lifted his head, looking over at the bright screen. It was… a text from Leo? In their group chat no less. That thing hadn’t been used in 2 weeks, why now did he suddenly care about everyone. He scanned his eyes over the message, eyes wide with shock. Was… was he being serious? They were really done with being ninjas? Like, done done, or done as in he’d be waking everyone up at 5-30 the next morning for training? A flood of relief washed through him. Finally. He knew what they did was rewarding enough but to protect a city that would run screaming if they saw who’d stopped multiple alien invasions? A city who could never utter even a word of thanks to them for all they’d done? It wasn’t about the praise, Donnie knew that. They’d all been forced into this by Splinter, and he was gone now. It was up to them to decide their own fates and he was so glad Leo was taking charge of that. No one would have said anything otherwise. It can’t have been healthy to be put through so much pain and suffering and trauma at such a young age. 15 years old. That’s how old they were when they first fought the kraang. That’s how old they were when they realised the true gravity of their existence. That’s how old they were when they’d first realised how the world viewed them. Monsters. Something to be afraid of. But they weren’t. Right?

That was an existential crisis for another day, however. Donnie thought as he straightened his back, listening to the satisfying pops as he did so. Now, it was time to get some rest. Nothing was going to happen to the lair, because they weren’t ninja anymore. Shredder was dead, Splinter was dead and anybody who could have hurt them was either dead or deterred over the death of Shredder. They’d be fine.

That was the last thought in his head as he curled up in his sheets, pulling the blankets so far up his body he was merely a head in a cocoon of warmth. They’d be fine. Even if they weren’t all fine right now, they’d be fine eventually. They’d all feel better eventually.

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quirky-quizzical-queer · 4 years ago

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My Trip to Wonderland

CW: This is about my own experience with epilepsy. It’s long, it’s raw, and it’s real. Read on if you wish.

Lewis Carroll, the author of the Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland series, is thought to have had temporal lobe epilepsy. Although there is little physical proof of such, due to the time period, his works of fiction have been taken as an allegory to what we now call auras. Even today, epilepsy is a condition that lacks understanding. This was the case even more so in the 1800s. Depending on culture, epilepsy was either thought to be divine, or a product of witchcraft for quite a while. During my diagnosis and subsequent events, I often described my auras as falling into a dark hole. I suppose I’ve spent a bit of time in Wonderland myself.

I wake up in an unfamiliar room. The lights are bright. They sing like high pitched crickets. Can anyone else hear them? Is anyone else here? Where am I, anyway? I try to move, try to speak, but I can’t. I must have made a sound of some sort, because I see someone’s face approach me. “Don’t try to talk. You had a seizure. We’re going to move you to a bed.”

A seizure? That doesn’t make sense. I don’t have seizures. Before I can tell this stranger that, I’m being moved by 3 people. I still can’t form words. I still haven’t figured out where I am, or who I’m with. I hear sirens. One of the girls has a stethoscope. They start asking me questions. I know the answers, but I can’t put the answers into words. I don’t understand what’s happening. The sirens get closer, and the larger group of girls starts to panic. Five of them still surround me, and they refuse to tell anyone else why sirens are approaching. These five must be characters in my own wonderland. The one telling me what happened is the Cheshire Cat. The girl who carried me to a more comfortable place must be the White Rabbit. The quiet one is the Caterpillar. The other two seem nice, but they’re giving me king and queen of hearts vibes. That can’t be a good sign. Now, the paramedics rush in with a bunch of equipment. They attach sticky pads to my chest and head. They poke and prod me with needles. They ask me the same questions as the girls. I still can’t answer them. I still don’t understand what happened. It’s frustrating. I know these are the good guys, but they really like to push my buttons. They’re the Mad Hatter. They rush me into an ambulance and out of the strange, bright building. I look out the back of the ambulance. I seem to be in the woods. How the hell did I get here?

The ambulance rushes me to a hospital that looks like something out of the 50’s. I’ve visited family and friends in hospitals before, and I’ve never seen anything like this. The five girls who were surrounding me at the cabin are still here. The only thing separating me from the psych patient in the next “room” is a thin curtain. I can hear all of her business, and I know that she can hear all of mine. The doctor asks me the same set of questions the girls and paramedics asked. This time, I can form one to two word answers. I still have no idea what happened that morning or the night before. Or why these five girls have taken such an interest in me, when I only know the names of two of them. I’m told that the sticky stuff on my head was for an emergency electroencephalogram. I don’t know what that means, but I’m falling in and out of sleep. My body hurts. This headache is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I’m hungry. I’ve been here for hours. Wait. I’ve been here for hours. Where is my family?

I hear the doctor whispering to the girls who came with me. He mumbles something about a psych transfer. I’m confused. Finally, my mom walks in. I don’t know where my dad is. She’s with her friend. They tell me they’re taking me to another hospital. I’m still confused, but too tired to argue. I just need food, first.

After a stop for food, my mom and her friend take me to another hospital. This doctor asks me the same set of questions, along with another set. He wants to know if I’m a danger to myself. I don’t think I am. Did I say something wrong? Had I told these girls something I didn’t remember? I don’t know. They tell me they don’t feel that they need to keep me for observation.

I leave the hospital around midnight. I have texts from strange numbers asking if I’m okay. I have a feeling I’m not okay. I’m not okay, and I won’t be for a long time. But I don’t really know how to answer that question yet.

It’s been about two months since I was given the official news. My EEG was abnormal, and I am classified as having “juvenile myoclonic epilepsy”. This wonderland is not one I’m accustomed to, yet. The name is misleading, because it’s not something I’ll ever grow out of. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. I still don’t remember what happened that weekend before I fell into the rabbit hole. I still wake up twitchy every morning.

The insomnia is the worst part. I wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, shaking. I’m not having a seizure, but I dreamt I was. In the dream, I was in a pool. Floating down the lazy river, when I began to seize. The pool was too crowded, and no one saw me. This is why I don’t sleep anymore. It’s easier to just stay awake. I’d rather not return to Wonderland anytime soon.

Another month, and I’m told I can drive again. This is a sense of freedom that had been stripped away after my first seizure. I’m ready for it to return. I’ve just returned from camping. I’m a bit tired, but I feel okay enough to go shopping. I think. I drive to pick up my friend, and we head to the mall. And…. into the rabbit hole I go. I remember nothing from arriving at the mall, to being awakened by paramedics. For some reason, I’m never wearing pants when these sons of bitches happen. The paramedics know me by name now. Their favorite question to ask me is, “who is the president?”. Depending on my level of lucidity, I usually make them laugh with my answer. At least I can be of comic relief to the people who save my life. My friend tries to tell them not to take me to the hospital, that I have a seizure disorder, but they won’t listen. My friend is quiet, but tries to help. She doesn’t visit Wonderland with me, but she’s there to hear about it afterwards. In my own wonderland story, she plays the role of Alice’s sister.

It’s another three months before I can drive again, but this time I can drive for quite awhile. It’s a feeling of freedom I haven’t known for a long time. That is, until I get myself into a situation at a swim meet. Maybe I have psychic dreams. Who knows. I can not stop twitching at the meet. I twitch so hard that I break my “Coach” clipboard. I’m lucky my iPad is still intact. I drive myself home, and remember nothing from there. I must have gone into the rabbit hole. My family greets me once I return from Wonderland. The good news here being, since I’m home, everyone knows not to call a paramedic.

After this, the seizures become more frequent and less life threatening. I was given rescue meds, just to be safe. They’re used once. And improperly. I sleep like a baby that day. And night. And the next day… and the next day. A seizure in Kroger, a seizure at the state fair, a seizure at the amusement park, seizures at work. They become a frequent occurrence. Simply a part of life that I would have to deal with. Luckily, my pants remained on for most of these. Despite the medic-alert bracelet I wear, so many people insist on calling paramedics. When four medications failed, surgery became a question. After all, why was I healthy for nineteen years, and suddenly I can’t walk out my own door safely?

One day in November, a year and a half after diagnosis, I walk out of my apartment door to go grocery shopping. I don’t know how long I am in Wonderland for this time. I am alone. No one familiar greets me when I return. This trip to Wonderland was different. I awake in an ambulance. These guys look familiar. The Mad Hatters. I try to talk, to no avail. I’m wearing a neck brace. This is not a good sign. I check. I’m wearing pants. I make noise to try to ask what happened. They inform me that I was found unconscious in the snow by the construction workers outside of my apartment, and I may need stitches. “Where?” I utter. They point to a bandaid on my chin while they take my blood sugar. Being curious, I rip the bandaid off. Yeah, I was going to need stitches. And some new clothes. At least I knew that was melted snow, and not pee. I notice that my glasses are nowhere to be seen, and my tooth is cracked. Great. I was nowhere near driving, but this is a major setback.

The less dangerous seizures continue. Falling in and out of Wonderland. It exists not only in seizures, but also in dreams, and in memories of seizures. Only being able to piece together events based on what I was told. Seizure on Christmas Eve, seizure at the zoo lights, random seizure here, random seizure there. The meds are not working.

January, I fall into Wonderland for a longer time. I’m there for three days this time. The actual seizure lasts thirty minutes, but the paramedics have to push meds to make it stop, otherwise I would be risking permanent brain damage. They rush me to a hospital, where I fall in and out of consciousness. They won’t let me get out of bed for any reason. I remember visitors, but I don’t remember who. I remember a lot of machines. I remember them finally changing my meds. This was another very different trip to Wonderland. No White Rabbit. No Cheshire Cat. Just me and the Mad Hatters.

After the med change, I only have one more seizure. I’m on my way to work, in the passenger seat, and I fall into the rabbit hole. It’s a quick trip. Uneventful.

And suddenly, the seizures stop. With one med change, they’re gone. No more rabbit holes. No more scaring the people I’m around. After three years of constant, terrifying, seizures; they’re gone. Alice has left wonderland. So to speak. Wonderland still exists. The nightmares are still ever-present. The memories are there. The twitches. I doubt those will ever go away. My journey in wonderland has been an adventure, that’s for sure. If I could change it, would I? Truthfully, I don’t know. It’s made me who I am. It’s made me mad, but after all, “we’re all mad here”, aren’t we? And I think the best are. I suppose if Wonderland is what it takes to gain perspective; just call me Alice.

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