#ill go underground now and shed my tears in private.

[alembicsystem]

#hxh liveblog #ill go underground now and shed my tears in private.

[wardenannie]

A very, very angsty one-shot. Warning for pregnancy loss. Crossposted on my Ao3.

-

Clouds of noxious smoke filled up the crystal cavern, wall to wall. It was only as Levi soared above it, over it with the vigilance of a hunting hawk, that he watched as the hook buried itself in Hange’s left shoulder. Time seemed to slow before his eyes, and that infernal shot was followed by three resounding bangs, each louder than the last in his ears. bang. Bang. BANG. 

The bullets were cloaked in sprays of red as they impacted Hange’s falling form. The hook unlatched and the assailant retreated in a burst of steam, but Levi’s eyes never strayed from the squad leader. 

“Hange!” More than one of the kids shouted her name in distress as the cavern began to shake. 

She struck a pillar, body limp, then slid down its faceted surface, leaving a trail of dark crimson in her wake. One of her hands cupped her bleeding middle, blood welling between her paling fingers. 

Levi cursed, dropping down to her side. The others were already crowding around, chips of glittering crystal were beginning to rain down from the cavern’s high ceiling. 

“Hange?” There was so much blood. It pooled around her, seeping out of her middle and between her legs. Her eyes were half open, aware but glassy. It looked like one shot had struck her sternum, another just beneath her breasts, and the last had lodged itself in her lower abdomen. 

“You-

She coughed, blood spattering from her lips. 

“You need to get... get out of here,” her fingers worked weakly against the smooth floor, body tensing like she meant to sit up. “I can’t... just leave me.”

Levi shook his head, pressing a gentle hand into her good shoulder, “Fuck that. Stay down. Moblit, Armin, can you carry her? She needs medical attention, now.” 

The men in question rushed to scoop her up, suspending her between their bodies. She winced and sighed, breath coming out in stuttering gasps. 

Levi watched them retreat, biting back a torrent of emotion as Hange’s toes dragged trails of blood into the floor. She was close to death, that was obvious. Three pellets of lead had lodged themselves into her insides and torn her body asunder. 

Hange Zoe. 

His Hange. 

The Captain’s heart was in his throat, hands shaking. He wanted to hit his knees and scream and beg whatever powers loomed above to spare her. He’d already lost so much. Levi felt as though his heart were being rendered in two. He would gladly have taken those shots for her, if it were possible, to spare her the pain and fear that accompanied death. 

Just the night before she had been so lively, excited for the coming battle. Sweaty over him, moaning under him. Kissing him. Whispering his name in mantra, like a prayer. 

Now he wasn’t certain that they would ever make love again, and he couldn’t even be at her side as she faded. 

It was Jean who broke him from his trance, “Your orders, Captain?” 

Levi shook his head, eyes still stinging, but no tears were shed. He steeled himself, braced himself for the ultimate loss of another friend, a companion, his secret lover. He was a wounded man, but also he was a soldier, and he had a duty to uphold. 

Anything for the greater good. Everything. 

When he spoke, motioning with his blade towards an opening in the crystal, his voice was low, dangerous, deadly and dripping with venom, “We kill Rod Reiss.”

Someone had to pay for what had happened to Hange. The true king of the accursed Walls would do nicely.

-

Rod Reiss was dead and Hange was alive. 

Upon his return from Orvud, that was all he knew of her condition. Alive. Badly injured, he knew. But gracefully alive. 

Levi wasted no time in stabling his horse and rushing through the neatly laid halls of HQ towards the infirmary. Perhaps he was being too obvious, perhaps the kids would catch on to his attachment, but he didn’t care. Hange was all that mattered, he cared about nothing else in that moment. 

They were keeping her in a private room, a benefit of her rank. Levi had no intention to leave her side for any longer than it took him to bathe. 

When he arrived he found Erwin had beaten him there. The man stood in a shaft of golden sunlight, it caught in his blond hair and brightened his icy eyes, which were paradoxically grim. Dust motes danced around him. Beside him stood redheaded woman in white nurses garb. Her lips were pursed, and when she spotted Levi in the doorway her expression darkened. 

Ignoring them entirely, Levi rushed to the side of the bed where Hange lay on top of the linens. She was naked from the waist up, but her entire upper body was bound in fresh bandages. There was a cool rag laid over her forehead and eyes. Relief flooded Levi’s chest and pooled in his gut. He knelt beside the bed, grateful for her peaceful expression and the steady rise of her chest. 

“Has she woken up yet?” Levi asked, gaze unwavering. He took her hand in his, not caring that the Commander was watching over his shoulder. 

“No,” The nurse answered. Then she cleared her throat, “Mr. Ackerman, there are some complications we need to discuss.” 

Levi’s thumb stroked over the backs of Hange’s knuckles. His brow furrowed and he scowled, forced to look away from his lover and at the nurse, “What?” 

His irritability seemed to surprise the woman, who took a step back. Levi’s reputation had clearly preceded him. 

Erwin laid a hand on her shoulder smiling sadly, “It’s okay, Nyla. I’ll take care of things here.” 

“But Commander it’s standard procedure that I inform-

“Shhh,” he shushed her delicately. “Dismissed. Take the rest of the day off.” 

She pursed her lips, but didn’t argue any further, retreating from the room on light feet. 

“What’s going on, Erwin?” Levi demanded, “You were both acting like someone shit the bed.” 

“Succinctly put,” the Commander answered, dryly. Then his expression darkened, and he continued. “I’ve known about the relationship the two of you share for some time now.” 

Levi paled, “Shit.” 

Erwin sighed, “Though I believe relationships between comrades are ill-advised, I’m not going to stop you.” 

“How did you figure it out?” 

His thick eyebrows shot up near to his hairline, amused, “Hange isn’t particularly quiet in bed. One stroll by her quarters was all it took.” 

Levi rolled his eyes, squeezing Hange’s fingers in his. Of course it was her fucking sex moans that gave them away, “I always tell her to keep it down.” 

Erwin cleared his throat, “That’s besides the point, though. I’m only informing you that I know as preamble for what I’m about to say. Levi, please sit on the bed. This is going to be quite the shock.” 

Feeling suddenly cold, Levi obeyed without a word. He still held on to Hange’s hand, her touch anchoring him to reality even from sleep. 

“When Hange arrived here she had already been stabilized, save for profuse bleeding from the vagina. They managed to dig out the bullet that had perforated her uterus, but the bleeding continued for some time.” 

“But she’s okay now, right?” Levi glanced back at her, down her lean body and between her thighs. She was wearing simple grey pants. They were unstained by blood. 

“She was pregnant, Levi,” Erwin stated, his voice was even and his eyes were emotionless. “They believe she was between three and four months along. The baby was killed when she was shot.” 

Levi went rigid, hands beginning to shake in his lap. His slate eyes widened and he looked up to Erwin with pure confusion and blended agony swirling in his eyes. 

“That’s not... that’s not possible,” his voice shook, his heart thundered in his aching chest. She had taken a contraceptive tea... Him? A father? 

Erwin pursed his mouth, extending a hand to rest on Levi’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Captain.” 

Levi dropped his head into his hands, closing his eyes tight. It hurt. God help help him it hurt so badly. Every inch of him ached. They gave up so much for this life, and they did so willingly, happily even, but this was simply too much. A baby. Hange had been carrying a baby. Their baby. A baby that they had made together. 

“I need,” real, tangible tears stung at the corners of Levi’s eyes. “I need a moment, Commander.” 

Erwin nodded his head and left the room without another word, shutting the door carefully behind him. 

Finally alone, Levi turned to Hange where she lay unconscious. Her breath was even, chest rising in steady intervals, blissfully unaware of what they had lost. There was no way she had known, she would have told him immediately if she had even suspected she was pregnant. 

Levi cried silently, staring at her peaceful face. The tears were hot against his skin, and no matter how he tried he simply couldn’t stem their flow. 

He’d had a chance at a family, a life beyond the Survey Corps, beyond all of the violence and carnage and death. A fleeting, beautiful chance. And now it was gone, cruelly ripped from his hands on the floor of that damned crystal cavern. 

He looked out the window, at the sky which had once awed him as a boy from the Underground. Now the blue seemed dull, the sun dim. 

Nothing good ever seemed to stay. 

Nothing save for Hange, who still breathed peacefully beside him. He pulled a chair up beside the bed, content to wait at her side until she opened her wine-colored eyes again.

- 

It was two more days before Hange stirred, and when she did it was well past midnight. On the wall the steady ticking of a clock had lulled Levi into an uneasy sleep in his chair. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the little infirmary room, splashing through the windowpane in long, silvery shafts. A vase of fresh picked wildflowers was sitting on the bedside table, courtesy of the 104th. 

Hange shifted on top of her sheets, shivering slightly in the cool air. Even that tiny reflex pained her, and she made a small discontented noise that awoke Levi with a start. 

“Levi?” She exhaled painfully, wincing as her shoulder pulled when she turned her head to face him. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him, ruffled and half asleep beside her. She smiled at him, “Levi, guess what?” 

Levi leaned forward, hand reaching instinctively to touch her cheek before dropping to settle over her own hand, “What, four-eyes?” 

“I’m not dead,” she wheezed out a laugh, which quickly morphed into a moan of pain. 

“No joking around right now,” Levi scolded softly, standing to help cover her with a blanket. “You need to rest.” 

Hange’s smile fell as she watched him unfold the blanket then drape it over her body, “Somethings wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Levi lied, unable to meet her eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me, little man. I can read you like a book.”

Levi settled back into his chair, “I’ll tell you later, alright? Get some sleep.” 

“No,” she would have crossed her arms if she weren’t full of bullet holes. “Tell me now, Levi. Your eyes are a little swollen, you never cry. And you’ve got dark circles. Something bad happened. Tell me now... oh my God, are the kids alright?” 

She actually started like she might sit up, frenzied by the thought. Levi rushed to ease her back down onto the pillows. 

“Easy four-eyes. The kids are fine, I promise,” he soothed. He took her hand again, stroking her knuckles. 

“Then what’s wrong?”

Levi bowed his head, watery eyes obscured by his hair. His very soul ached as he whispered the words, “I love you, Hange.” 

She went very still under his touch. They had never said those words to one another before, each afraid it would make what they had too real, too painful were one of them to die. But it was obvious to Levi now that their apprehension had never mattered. 

“Levi...” 

“You were pregnant,” he choked. “You miscarried when you were shot. Three to four months along, they said.” 

Tears were streaming down his cheeks again, glimmering with a beauty that belied their source. His insides were a tangled mass of barbed wire, blood, and pure, unadulterated sadness. Everything hurt.  

Hange was quiet for a while, hands folded neatly over her middle, eyes trained on the ceiling. 

When she finally spoke her voice was so soft, so low that Levi could barely make out the words, “I should have known. All the signs were there but I ignored them as stress. Oh God, Levi. I should have known.” 

Levi leaned onto the bed, “You can’t blame yourself for this.” 

“Can’t I?” Wincing, she raised a hand to touch her forehead, “I went into battle pregnant, I allowed myself to be cornered and shot, pregnant. How did I miss this? How? I killed our baby.” 

“No.” Levi said, fiercely, “Kenny and his damned fiends killed our baby. Rod fucking Reiss killed our baby. They’re all dead now. I made sure of that.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes now, and Levi couldn’t help but touch her cheek.

“We needed you there, Hange,” he said, softly. “We’re soldiers. We have a duty to the people of the walls, no matter what.” 

The last three words were painful to say, but it was true. Their duty came above all else.

Hange cried softly for a while. Levi held her hand, crying silently with her. He touched her face, her hair, her hands. Eventually he leaned forward to kiss her gently on the mouth. She tasted of salt and blood, and she cupped the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. 

When they parted, he whispered into the narrow space between their lips, “If you had died-

His voice cracked, then. And he realized for the first time in two days that he really, truly still had Hange. As long as she was breathing at his side, everything would be okay. 

“Don’t think about that,” she breathed, and kissed him again. “We already lost so much.” 

Hange scooted over to the left side of the bed, patting the right with her hand, “Come here.” 

Wordlessly Levi joined her on the bed. The flow of his tears was beginning to stem. He savored the heat of Hange’s body next to his, and when he rested his head on her good shoulder he could hear the steady beat of her heart. His hand ventured delicately down the taut line of her stomach, settling reverently over her abdomen, right above where the baby had been. 

Hange laid a hand over his, sniffing, “Do you think... I mean, someday this will all have to end, right? Eventually?”

Levi kissed her neck, “Eventually.” 

“We can try again,” she promised, voice ragged, fingers combing through his hair. “When this is over, we’ll try.” 

Levi hummed into her skin, inhaling the scent of her, feeling her alive beneath his touch. 

“Levi?” Her voice was clearer now, tears slowing. Her fingers were rubbing circles on his knuckles over her abdomen. 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you, too.” 

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #my writing #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations DAISY! You’ve been accepted as NIX.

I did my waiting... twelve years of it... until we finally got our Nix! Daisy, let me start this off with how happy I was to see an app for Luke in our inbox and that happiness only grew when I read through it. At the very end of your details section you said that Luke is contradictory to a fault - which is the very much something I was looking for with him. Luke is a danger, yes we all know this, but regardless of that he wants to protect his family and he has everything as his fingertips that could make him “holy.” I’m so excited to see where you take him! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Daisy

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST // I work a few part-time jobs, so my free time is mostly reserved to the evenings and weekends, but once I have muse for a character and find a great writing community, I really commit to the rpg! I would give myself a 7/10, with some weeks dipping down to a 6 just because of work schedules and such. If there’s ever a time I can’t be on for longer than usual, I’ll definitely let you know!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Luke Espinosa / Nix

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cisgender male & he/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: This is where you show us who the character is to you! The format of this doesn’t matter, whether it’s in bullet points or in para form, and can be as long as you’d like it to be. Feel free to get creative!

Luke — “light giving” / Espinosa — From the Spanish word, “espino,” which means “hawthorn”

It’s an irony that’s not lost on him, a simple name bestowed on him by a simple man, yet perfectly matched to his own particular talents. Privately, he smiles at the memory of his mother calling him ‘Luca,’ a nickname he’s revealed only to Isabel. (Naturally, she’s the only person he’d allow to call him that now.) Still, there’s a certain saintliness to the name that he feels is an ultimate disconnect to the man he believes himself to be: hateful, spiteful, and altogether brutal — in other words, totally undeserving of anything remotely ‘holy’. The hawthorn tree is often thought to symbolize love and protection, and are often beloved by birds for their many branches and fruits to aid in nest-making and hatchling development. Personally, I feel as though Luke wouldn’t give much thought to his surname, given the memories of the man who gave it to him. Still, I can’t help but think that this last name suits him exceedingly well, especially when I consider the arc I’d like to see him go through. Currently, Luke is someone full of anger; he’s bitter, rages often and relatively indiscriminately, and rejects responsibility out of semi-unfounded fears. He’s a weapon even though he wants to be a shield, too destructive to truly protect anyone from the wrath of the world — or worse, his own. He’s not a simple man, per se, but the outside world would be forgiven for thinking him little more than a bad-tempered, ill-mannered creature of habit, forever searching for something to destroy whether through punch or power. And yet, he manages to be more than all the red that typically surrounds him, and rather evidently, too; there’s rarely a day that he doesn’t return to the apartment if only to whip up a quick boxed dinner for Isabel and Isaac and bask in their company, sharing a laugh over Isaac’s latest mishap. He’s someone who will fight for his family, die for his family, even though he never wanted, expected, or asked for them. He struggles to balance the undeniable need to protect them against his utter lack of faith in himself and the world around them. It’s not that he doubts his powers; truly, he knows exactly how dangerous he can become, how all-consuming his light can be when his internal state reaches somewhere overwhelmingly dark. So, on the days he truly needs to get away, it’s not in the boxing rings of The Jungle or the bar at The Green Mill that call to him, but instead the rooftop of some nearby building, as close to the sun as the smokey city will allow, recharging and resetting in silence. Within the Blackburn Syndicate, he’s tough, some might even call him brave — and it’s partially true, though not because of some gallant side to his personality usually cast aside in favor of sulking in the shadows. Rather, his bravery displays itself largely in times of fear; scared for the safety of someone else, he’ll often volunteer to be put in harm’s way, though not without throwing some wayward remark about the other person’s inability to handle their job. Luke knows he’s an asset, a machine, a means to an end for the Syndicate. He’s quick to protect by means of a fierce onslaught of attack — which happens to make him the perfect weapon. He’s built his career, if not his whole life, on being menacing, on instilling fear into a person in any way he can and beating whatever’s left, out. Simply put, it’s just what he knows.  In terms of truly unleashing the full extent of his powers, there are so few lines he’d be unwilling to cross. Still, when the question of family comes up, it’s not hard to imagine him setting the world alight just to keep them safe. In short, although the baseline of his personality could default to a simple ‘angry boy’ trope, I think Luke is so much more than just that. I see him as someone so craving of stability, that the fear of not having it makes it impossibly easy for him to run away; someone with the power to absorb light, yet utterly incapable of providing it for himself; a shield with no defense — contradictory to a fault. 

BIO:

[ TW for violence, death, marital/family abuse, alcohol ] Fighting had always been in his blood, and he knew it. When he closes his eyes, he still remembers coming home from school to find his precious mother, still heavily pregnant with his unborn sister, bloodied and battered on the floor, bruises formed all over her body and cuts marring her pretty face. And his father, gruff and hulking, liquor evident from his smell and the arrhythmic steps of his heavy feet, ordering the young boy to help clean up – i.e., get rid of – his fatally wounded mother. He was nine then. A boy by all measures, but the ‘monster’ within claimed his youth, clawing from the depths of his grief as he clung to his mother’s life-drained body. At a moment so dark, his body emanated light and heat, overwhelming and blinding as his tears shed freely until the world around turned black with ash and fear. At ten, he was a child trapped in a plastic prison hundreds of feet underground, blocking out all sources of natural light after enough tests determined he drew his power from the sun. His body grew weak — no, he was made to be weak, forced by human powers greater than his own — though his appetite for destruction only augmented with each passing day. When the scientists deemed him feeble enough that he’d have little chance of full-powered recovery, he was placed into a foster home with fellow mutants. Fortunately for Luke, they vastly underestimated his body’s ability to  At best, their foster parents saw each of them as little more than the monthly check; at worst, they saw their ‘children’ as nightly entertainment, watching with eager abandon as the kids with control of their powers beat up the ones whose powers hadn’t fully manifested. Unlike some of the other kids, it wasn’t the pink hair he’d seen first, nor the trembling fingers he’d recognized all too well — a trademark of someone not fully in control of their powers, yet still grasping at some invisible force in the hopes they would come back. He saw the fear in her eyes, the silent plea for help in a moment of desperation, and on instinct, he stepped in front of Isabel, shielding her from the cruelty of kids competing for a love they wouldn’t receive from ‘parents’ who were anything but. They weren’t fast friends, exactly, but something deeper: family. In a world where choice had been so quickly taken away from them simply by the nature of their genetic makeup, this act of protection without care, of love without thought, was the loudest kind of rebellion two kids confused by the world around them could muster. Soon enough, their powers grew in harmony, working with each other to learn new tricks that complemented each other’s skills. And at twelve, after enough foster homes to last a lifetime, they arrived in Chicago with nothing but a backpack between the two of them, holding little precious trinkets they’d collected or — in Luke’s case — stolen along the way. Isabel caught notice of the Blackburn Syndicate shortly after they’d settled in the snow-strewn streets. He was hesitant and prideful, believing he’d be able to provide for the both of them through whatever means necessary. He knew his aptitude for fighting could land him some money, even if it meant getting some teeth knocked out every now and then, but when he saw her knowing fear and constant shiver, he conceded once more, letting her dreams dictate their future. His apprehension for yet another home claiming to welcome them and treat them kindly remained even after Alma agreed to take them in; the distaste only grew when it was clear ‘impressing’ the woman came in the form of Isabel fainting from over-exerting her powers and an altogether destructive showing of his own. Isabel assimilated quicker than he did, finding her footing well before him; half-scared to commit himself to this new environment and half-terrified that he’d lose her if he didn’t, Luke accepted menial jobs within the Syndicate as he worked on mastering his powers. When he turned eighteen, he took an under-the-table job at The Jungle, taking and encouraging bets for certain fighters in exchange for proper lessons. Here, he studied the best of the best until he was ready for the ring himself, and by twenty-four, he carved a reputation for being quite the fearsome fighter. “The Silent Striker,” the crowds dubbed him, when his quick but quiet fighting style emerged supreme against fighters twice his size. For the past few years, he’s kept the extent of his fighting a secret from Isabel and Isaac, telling them that he liked to go just to watch, or because he was on a special assignment from the Director. It’s not that he doesn’t trust them — on the contrary, he trusts them a little too much and believes that admitting to liking, perhaps even needing The Jungle as a form of release and rush would scare them away or cause them unnecessary concern. As much as they were his saving grace, they could also be his undoing and, in turn, his desire to protect Isabel and Isaac often meant shielding them from the truth of his being — the harsh cruelty he inflicted on others in order to make sure they’d all be taken care of, outside of the confines of the Syndicate. After all, the havoc he wreaked with just his hands was nothing compared to what he could do if he let light consume him, and when all was said and done, it was safer to have them wonder, “What is he doing?” rather than “What won’t he do?” Then again, when the question of family comes up, it’s not hard to imagine him consuming the world in order to keep them safe. 

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS: 

ISABEL ACOSTA: He might never say it out loud, but she is most definitely his saving grace. She’s more than a friend, more than family. Isabel is the first person who chose him, who saw him for what he was and didn’t shy away from it but instead welcomed him — hell, even needed him. He might not have known it at the time, but he needed her just as much, and certainly needs her now. When push comes to shove, he will follow Isabel no matter the consequence, no matter the reward because he knows there is no greater advantage than having her by his side. In terms of future ideas, I’d of course love to explore the depths of his relationships with Isaac and Isabel more. The concept of ‘found family’ comes with the territory of choice, which, for a man shuffled from one house to another and utilized as a weapon for about as long as he can remember, is something precious, if not nearly divine. I’d love to see these relationships tested and tried, and really pull and poke at the bonds those characters share just for Luke to realize the depth of his choice and see the lengths he’d go to ensure their safety. I’m a sucker for angst and tension and, naturally, would love to see Luke’s faith in his family falter, to play out possible betrayals or missteps if only to see him inevitably find his way back home. 

CAIN DOUGLAS: The great shame of any fighter’s life is knowing that fighting is simply in their lifeblood, something they can’t escape and something that they won’t necessarily accept, either. When he enters the ring to fight Cain, it’s exhilarating, enthralling, and ultimately exhausting. Each match between them is an excuse to learn and train, each new bruise and bloodstain practice for the ultimate fight that’ll come between the two of them, somewhere outside of The Jungle and upon the unending concrete of the city. In my head, Luke wears some sort of mask/head covering when he fights in order to separate this exceedingly brutal side from the calmer, safer person he needs to be around Isabel and Isaac. The only reason that Cain knows his identity is because he once bested him in the ring and part of his reward was unmasking the other man. From that moment, Cain’s known his identity, which pushes Luke to train harder and harder until he can defeat the man both in and out of the ring, potentially with the intent of silencing him forever. He knows that The Jungle is mostly safe for mutants, but it’s the threat of exposing his family to something so dark, so uncontrollable, so all-consuming that scares him to his core.

EXTRA: Here’s my insp tag for Luke! (The second post in that collection gives me such Luke vibes.) And here are some headcanons:

For obvious reasons, he’s weakest in the winter. During this season, he spends most of his free time around plants, which have their own special way of storing energy from the sun, as limited as the exposure is. Luke was born and ‘raised’ in a veritable ghost town somewhere in the southwest United States, and still speaks with a kind of southern drawl. He has a sweet tooth like no other and regularly starts his day off with a hot chocolate, add two sugars. Luke doesn’t know how to drive and typically relies on Isabel to get him anywhere that the city’s transportation system can’t reach.

ANYTHING ELSE: None, thank you! But if there’s anything you need to discuss about my app, please feel free to contact me @nfwmb !!

#accepted: nix