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karikarasuno · 1 year

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sonder ch. iv

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader x Levi Ackerman

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Recreational Drug Use, Pregnancy Scare, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Word Count: 6.4k

song(s) for the chapter: strange by celeste, another life by kiah victoria, small things by jojo, in the kitchen by renee rapp

a/n: going back to writing this post my own irl break-up has been an...experience. hope you enjoy the v real heartbreak lol

chapter iii | chapter iv | chapter v

You called out of work the next morning on account of a migraine. Which was mostly true. The source of the migraine though was sobbing for hours into your pillow until you exhausted yourself and fell asleep. It was noon by the time you officially opened your eyes. Your vision was still uncomfortably blurry and you were still wearing your jeans and t-shirt from the day before. When you found enough energy to drag your ass out of bed, the person you saw in your bathroom mirror was pathetic. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Your whole face looked like it retained enough water in your cheekbones to fill a kiddie pool and you were in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes.

There was no effort put into the outfit you changed into post shower. Your sweater was baggy and old, and your shorts were short enough to disappear under the hem of your sweatshirt. What awaited you in the kitchen was something that you had completely forgotten about. The red splatter stains across your wall looked similar to a murder scene. The little dots were high enough to meet the top of the refrigerator and you concluded that the wall was ruined. The only way to fix it would be with a fresh coat of paint.

Maybe a change of decor would begin the process of erasing your weekend with Onyankopon from tainting every corner of your goddamn home. It was the last thing you ever expected. He was never supposed to show up at your doorstep and ask for answers. You were supposed to have a messy run-in back home. Maybe when you went back to your parents’ for the holidays. But definitely not here. Cities away and in a place you were just starting to call your home.

You slipped on sneakers and left with your hair wrapped in a scarf to the hardware store. You needed paint. And you needed it today because you couldn’t keep looking at your wall. You also couldn’t stay curled up in your bed for the whole day in self pity. You needed to be productive. In some way or another.

Your phone was left unchecked for nearly the whole day until you hopped on the train and put on your headphones. You fully intended on ignoring any messages and just playing some music but there were texts from Erwin, Levi, and Pixis. Your curiosity was too intense to ignore them, though.

Erwin: Hey, seems like you’re staying in today. Text me if you need anything

Levi: Dinner?

With three different recipes attached.

Pixis: Feel better soon. See you tmw.

The guilt that rattled around your chest was audible despite the music in your ears and the roar of the train on the tracks. But you’d respond later. You just needed for this pain to pass and everything would be back to normal. It wouldn’t take long, you reasoned, just a few distractions and it would be as if this horrid weekend never happened. You arrived at the hardware store with really no plan, heading straight to the paint aisle and becoming instantly overwhelmed with the mass amount of paint swatches aligning an entire wall.

It would be smart for you to choose something that matched your already existing furniture. Maybe an eggshell or something. But you decided if the color was too close to what you had without an exact match you’d end up having to paint the entire living room. And that would be too much.

So you chose a wine red. A burgundy that would cover the wine splatters with ease and serve as an accent wall. You didn’t give yourself enough time to muddle over your choice because you’d end up convincing yourself not to. You’ve already spent too much time thinking and you were over it. You needed to just do something. For the sake of your sanity.

The elderly woman at the paint counter took her time making the paint. And while you weren’t in any real hurry, you found your foot incessantly tapping the floor while you fidgeted with the hair tie secured around your wrist. Anxiety was a companion of yours for some time now. Before Onyankopon and before this job. So you were well aware that this was just one of your ticks. Which only meant that sooner or later you’d be hit with a wave of paranoid anxiety that you wouldn’t be able to control. But that was a future you problem. For now, you just needed to keep busy.

Which should be easy enough, given the project you recently gave yourself. When the lady was finished with your paint you thanked her over your shoulder as you turned down the opposite aisle to grab supplies. By the time you reached the register with a cart full of things you realized there was no way in hell you’d be able to drag this onto the train and back to your home. So you ordered an Uber. The man who arrived sized you up warily, clearly noting your still puffy eyes and your lack of presentable clothing for your outing. But he popped the trunk and helped load all of your things into it. He even offered to help you unload when you arrived home. You declined. Your mother gave you enough lectures about stranger danger to last you a lifetime and a half.

You carefully placed everything on your doorstep as you unlocked your door and dragged everything inside. The hard part was next. The couch was heavy but you needed to shift it forward and cover it with plastic so as not to accidentally ruin it with paint. Rolling the paint over the wall was therapeutic. Mindless back and forth that you were losing yourself in. Exactly what you needed.

The splatters were gone. One trace of Onyankopon already disappeared beneath one coat of paint. If only everything else revolving around him was that easy to forget. But the lingering feelings of regret and anguish were set aside in favor of pouring more paint into the container. In favor of mistakenly smudging paint on the ceiling and belatedly realizing you forgot to use painter’s tape for clean lines. And then remembering that you did not have a step ladder. There was one you could borrow right next door, but the thought of facing Levi or Erwin in your current state sent a wave of unwarranted shame down your spine.

Not that they would judge you. It was just odd to think about including them in a version of you that they knew nothing about. Someone you knew they wouldn’t recognize because you could hardly recognize her. The version of you that was their friend, but a woman who was so deeply broken and fragile, you were almost embarrassed of her.

So, you decided against the ladder. Resulting in a sloppy paint job and many amateur mistakes, but it was done. You threw off your sweatshirt somewhere along the way. And your living room was currently a disaster, but cleaning up was the easiest part. Your thoughts falling to the wayside, while your hands and feet did everything you needed. You threw away the plastic that enclosed your sofa, the paint slowly drying as you poured whatever paint was left in the small container into the paint can and hammered the lid down.

There was a small towel closet at the end of your hallway that you stored everything in, disposing of the head of the paint roller because you had no intention of soaking it and squeezing off the paint that was drenching it. You also pushed the couch back into place, but careful not to press it against the wall. And despite the mistakes you made, the end result was something you were happy with. One that you could take some pride in because you worked hard for it. Circumstances aside.

Your next challenge was one you hadn’t foreseen. Your bed was a mess when you were ready to finally crawl into it. But as you stared from the foot of your mattress all you could think about was him. And his smell. And how he managed to work your body over and over until you were so satisfied you fell deeply into sleep. Then, the crushing guilt brought you back to how it ended. So many mistakes and now you couldn’t even sleep in your bed without being reminded of him. It was pitiful, really.

You snatched a pillow from your side–the one he hadn’t slept on– and an extra blanket from your closet before dragging yourself to the living room. It still smelled like paint, the chemicals roaming around the open space but you preferred that to the warm scent of vanilla and musk trapped between the threads of your sheets. Maybe the scent of drying paint could burn the memories from your brain with each inhale.

Maybe you could suffocate the thought of Onyankopon from your mind. Drown the feelings in your heart with layers of thick paint. To be left to dry out slowly and be forgotten. Eventually.

There was a certain skill that came along with avoiding those important in your life. A certain je ne sais quoi when it came to carefully crafting excuse after excuse for weeks on end. The nightly dinners you had come to rely on with Erwin and Levi came to an abrupt stop. The lunches with Moblit ended swiftly when you began to take on so many projects at a time that it should be impossible for anyone to complete. But when you arrived at work at 7am and left well past 7pm, the projects didn’t seem like enough.

They were worried about you. That much was clear. And that worry seemed to have trickled down to Marco. Who was standing awkwardly in your doorway with a manuscript you had asked him to read over for you. You almost felt bad for how much work you were throwing at him. Forcing him to read some of the worst writing you’ve ever laid your eyes on, but accepting the novel either way. Purely to keep busy.

But now you truly felt the consequences of that when you glanced at the stack of papers in his tightly clenched hands and only found rows of red ink. That couldn’t be good.

“That bad?’ You leaned back in your chair, papers and sticky notes covered every inch of your desk and if you didn’t have a method for your organized mess you would’ve gone crazy. Not that you already haven’t.

“Worse,” he replied, shoulders still tense and his feet still rooted just outside your door. He was nervous and you knew that was your own fault. You had isolated yourself so dramatically that he probably saw you as a different person completely. You dragged a hand down your cheek and took a steadying breath. Your exhale was loud and it was sad that you couldn’t even remember which project you handed over to him. Amidst the hundreds you were taking on.

“Which one is that?” You opened a folder on your desktop that held all of the manuscripts. It was obnoxiously long so you clicked into the search bar as you waited for him to read out the title to you. You printed it when you found the document because you always concentrated better when you had the hard copy in your hands instead of scrolling through it on your computer. Pen to paper was best, even if you were aware that it was the more wasteful option.

“Wanna go over it with me?’ You offered, hopeful that this tiny olive branch could be the start of mending your distant relationship. He simply nodded, taking that step into your office and sitting across from you.

“Sorry in advance,” he said with a small smile, eyes lighting up with familiar amusement.

“For?”

“What you’re about to experience.” And for what feels like the first time in forever you laughed. The sound bubbled up your chest and burst unexpectedly from your lips. His smile broadened and he situated himself more comfortably in his seat as he started reading it aloud.

And he was right. It was worse than you initially imagined.

The pier was the next stop over and you were tempted to ride it until you got there. Tempted to relive that day, but the wind was howling and the chill that fell down on the city was enough to have you steering clear of the waterfront. It was mid-September when the weather decided to fully commit to autumn. The days were still long, the sun setting after seven on most days, but the cold that it started to bring was a pleasant reminder that summer didn’t last forever. When the heat started to become too much, you could always remember that the shift in temperature was just around the corner. You just had to be patient.

You also needed to sleep. Your body was quickly starting to feel the consequences of lying awake for hours until your alarm blared to signal it was time for you to get up and dressed for work. The dispensary wasn’t too far from work, so once your day ended you hopped on the train and made it your first stop. There was an urgency crawling beneath your skin, a sinking desperation in your gut because all you wanted was rest. The tossing and turning was getting infuriating. Especially since you still didn’t have the strength to sleep in your bed. The couch was comfortable enough, but you were positive that if you slept in the bed that you shared with Onyankopon your sleep would be that much worse.

Which said a lot, since you averaged maybe an hour or two a night.

A few blocks later and you were at the storefront, a man standing outside to check your ID before he opened the door to let you in. It was a little strange at first how casual it all was. Not used to seeing so many people of all ages in a place to buy weed. And you did eye the older couple a little longer than you should have as they asked the employee so many questions it made your head spin. But the young woman took it all in stride. She grinned at the couple with fond enthusiasm as she walked them through the different strains.

You ended up leaving with a pack of pre-rolled joints. Because you surely didn’t have the time nor energy to roll them yourself. It’s been a while since you smoked, probably over a year now since you only really did it with Onyankopon on nights the two of you wanted to enjoy a good meal or watch some stupid movie.

But you remembered the sleepiness after smoking. The way your body would just relax into itself and the black out sleep that always followed. It was dreamless most of the time. Not that you minded. It was actually what you had been craving. Because when you did sleep, it was filled with dreams that wouldn’t really constitute nightmares, but they were awful nonetheless.

Your home was dark once you arrived, night fell around the city earlier than it usually did. Another sign of the turn of the season. You managed to stumble around your home without turning on any of the lights, only flicking on the lamp once you changed into your house clothes and shuffled into the kitchen. The lighter you kept in the junk drawer was thankfully still there, buried beneath a pair of scissors and some command strips.

Usually Onyankopon always lit it first for you, holding the lighter to the end while you propped the joint between your lips to prepare for an inhale. But you were alone this time around, in the dim light of your kitchen, preparing for an inhale with shaky hands. The end burned cherry red and fire orange. The smell hit you first and instinctively you breathed in deeply. Too deeply while the tiny flame still burned the tip. You choked on the bitter smoke, your lungs heaved as the heated air burnt your throat. You were out of practice, that much was clear, but you already felt some of that blessed lightheadedness you were so desperately seeking. You grabbed a tiny ceramic ramekin to stand in as your ashtray, inhaling with unsteady breaths each time the smoke fully expelled from your chest.

Simple minutes passed, but anyone could have convinced you that hours had been drained away. The only thing left, besides your aching heart, was the craving for food. You were starving, only having absentmindedly stuffed a granola bar from the break room a little after lunch time. Marco had offered to bring you something on his way back from the sandwich shop he was heading to, but you declined. Realizing now that you regretted that decision immensely. There was nothing in your fridge besides molding strawberries that you kept forgetting to toss, a bottle of half finished red wine, and some sparsely used condiments. You turned to the pantry next, finding a jar of peanut butter and nutella. And in a very generous turn of events, a loaf of bread that thankfully lacked any traces of mold. It was strange. Going from carefully crafted homemade meals, cooked in the presence of friendship and comforting company, to nearly burning two pieces of bread smushed together by melted gooeyness. But you ate it anyway through a familiar haze that you welcomed but not in the same ways as you used to. Not out of a matter of want, but of a matter of need.

You nestled into the cushions of your couch once you finished eating. After a few nights of sleeping on the sofa and concluding that you weren’t going to your bed any time soon, you decided to drag over a few pillows and a blanket. It made it much more comfortable, even though you knew you should just toughen up and go to your bed. But you were far too stubborn and heartbroken for that.

Luckily, sleep found you quicker than it had in weeks. It was a dark, blank affair. You didn’t remember when you fell asleep or how, and you still woke up before your alarm, but far more rested then you had in far too long. The sun trickled into the living room between your slatted blinds, your curtains swaying gently from the breeze of the air conditioning.

Fatigue still made your limbs heavy, but your mind wasn’t racing and neither was your heart. You had become accustomed to the palpitations always residing in your chest. But those seemed to ease. Yet there was still this unsettling feeling that washed over you. That coated your vision in sepia and dulled all of your senses.

You hardly remembered the ride to work. Or the mug of still hot coffee settled in front of you as you stared at your computer screen. Something was off, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Your stomach kept churning, and bile was sitting just below your rib cage. Waiting, threatening to come right up your esophagus. Your mind had been a mess these last few weeks, but today it felt like your entire body was fighting against you.

You made it to lunch somehow. With a mild headache and what felt like indigestion. And when you ate the protein bar you kept stashed in your work bag, that seemed like the final straw. The bathroom was a short walk from your office, each step forcing what was spinning in your stomach to rise just a bit higher. You rounded the corner of the stall and once your eyes made contact with the toilet everything came up all at once. Your eyes watered and your throat burned. You struggled to keep your knees from buckling beneath you as your breaths came out in pained, heaving wheezes.

When you were finished, you simply stood there with a hand clutching your stomach while the other wiped snot and tears from your face with toilet paper. You were weak and sweaty. Like the beginnings of a cold. But the sickening feeling that rattled you around all day was starting to twist into a very frightening realization.

Your period was late.

You snatched your phone from your back pocket and immediately opened the calendar app. You counted backwards by each week. Landing scarily on the seventh week. The week that Onyankopon arrived unannounced. The last time you had sex. Unprotected.

The nausea worsened as your head reeled and your heart thumped in your chest and throat. Loud enough to drum in your ears and blur your vision. You couldn’t be. That was the last thing you wanted, especially now. When you were the biggest mess you had ever been.

Your world was actively crumbling around you. You couldn’t seem to find your footing or your place or even your head most days.

How would you even bring this up to Onyankopon?

But instead of allowing yourself to recklessly overthink for longer than you should, you went straight back to your office to grab your wallet and headed out to the nearest pharmacy. It was only a few blocks, but each step was more painstakingly stressful than the last. The thumping in your ears refused to stop and the bustling city around you faded so drastically, it was as if you were truly the only person alive.

Once you purchased two tests, you went to the empty office space a few floors below yours. The previous tenants left suddenly. Something about the CFO committing fraud and causing the entire company to go bankrupt. And since then the building owners have had a hard time renting it out again.

Today you were grateful for that. Because if it weren’t for white collar crimes, you’d be hyperventilating in your own work’s bathroom at risk of any of your coworkers walking in. And the mere idea of that sent another wave of tears to your eyes that you refused to let spill over.

You chugged the bottle of water you purchased, pacing the empty bathroom to the beat of your footsteps echoing against tile and your breaths releasing in shallow puffs of air. When you finally did pee, you couldn’t keep your hand from shaking. Luckily, you were able to get enough on the stick for the three lines to show up as it analyzed the sample.

Your hands were sweaty, and you hadn’t realized it until you grabbed your phone again to set a timer and the case came back moist against your palm. Three minutes. In just three minutes you’d find out if your life would be turned upside down and spun around until you could no longer stand or see straight.

And as the seconds ticked by, anxiety etched its way into your chest and you couldn’t breathe. A panic started to build that was far more intense than what you’d been feeling sitting in your gut for weeks. This feeling felt like reality.

Like if you didn’t get your shit together now, surely you’d fall into a state of numbness that you may never recover from. The reality of just coasting through life solely off of apathy became so unrealistic because you needed to love again. Needed to care and indulge. Needed to learn to be a person without all the sticky complications of compromise that came along with a relationship.

Just as your panic began to worsen your phone rang in your hand. For a second you thought it had already been three minutes, but instead it was Erwin. You weren’t going to answer. You shouldn’t have answered, but before you could think twice about it, your thumb slid across the bottom of the screen.

You didn’t respond. Mostly because your breathing was uneven and words were stuck in a track of honey down your throat.

“Hello?” He asked, a slight urgency to his voice. And when he said your name there was a crack in the syllables that made it up. Worry coated everything that followed until you were able to croak out an, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not and you haven’t been,” he sighed, absolute exhaustion sounding through the receiver and you knew the sound all too well. “What’s going on?”

“I think I’m pregnant.” That was the first time you said those words aloud. The first you even allowed yourself to fully say or think the word pregnant without sheer panic wracking through your entire body. But saying them to Erwin felt like the right thing to do. Like you had to in order for the pressure in your chest to ease, even if it was only a little.

“What?” He stammered, clear disbelief in his tone. “How?”

And that made you chuckle, the tears pricking at your eyes finally spilling over your bottom lashes and smearing across your cheeks. “I think you know how, Erwin.”

He chuckled alongside you and the sound warmed your heart because things were slotting into place again. The thoughts that ran through your head recklessly were beginning to slow and it was because confiding in your friend was something you needed to do. Rather than continuously running away.

“Well, I know how. It’s just unexpected, is all.”

“I’m waiting for the test results. I locked myself in one of the empty office bathrooms,” you admitted, fear building again once you realized you still had a minute and a half left.

“I’ll wait with you. If that’s what you need.” A sob caught in your throat at his sincerity. You refused to accept anything from anyone for so long. Isolated yourself so deeply that the wounds never began to heal even when you tried to convince yourself they were scarring over.

“Ok,” you whispered, dropping your head into your hand and heaving out a breath that allowed even more tears to fall freely. There was mutual, tense silence on both ends of the call. You could tell Erwin wanted to say something more. Something reassuring. But words couldn’t offer much comfort when your whole life could change in less than a minute.

The timer went off. Erwin sucked in a breath, but still refrained from saying what was clearly on the tip of his tongue. You refused to look at the test. Because you genuinely didn’t want to know the result. Either answer breaking your heart in some way or another.

What if you wanted this? Needed this? The opportunity to care and love unconditionally for someone else. Even if right now you didn’t have enough of that love for yourself.

“Well?” Erwin asked hesitantly, urgently asking for an answer that you were too afraid to give him.

“I’m scared.” You admitted. Chest hurting and eyes stinging in preparation for a fresh wave of tears.

“I get it, but you have to look at that test. You need to know.” You stared at where the test rested on the counter, the screen no longer adorned with three blinking lines. Instead, there were letters composing two words. And for some reason the ache in your chest blossomed into something more horrifying. More heartbreaking.

You wanted it to say this because it only made sense. It only made sense for you to not be pregnant. But that didn’t stop the sob from crawling up your throat and your knees to give out beneath you.

Erwin was calling your name, but it sounded distant. Albeit, concerned. It was hard for you to register much outside of your rapid breathing and disordered thoughts. You needed a moment, just a second to let it all out before you could admit to it out loud. Admit that some part of you wanted that test to be positive for your own selfish reasons. Even though you knew how ridiculous it all sounded.

“I’m not pregnant,” you said, voice hoarse and thick from the congestion sitting in your sinuses. “Which should be a relief, so I don’t know why I’m feeling this way.”

“You should go home,” he offered, obviously unsure of what to say or if anything would really help in this situation.

“I have a lot of work to do,” you argued, even if saying the words aloud just felt like another excuse to bury yourself in distractions.

“It’s Friday. How much work are you really going to get done in the afternoon that you can’t just do on Monday?” You rolled your eyes at him knowing he had a point, you just didn’t want to admit he was right. “Go home, and I’ll stop by after work.”

The company sounded nice. Especially since you’ve been so lonely these last few weeks. And being alone with just yourself has become rather frustrating and pathetic, but you still responded with, “you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“Sure, you will,” he said, and you could hear the small smile in his voice as it tickled with amusement. “We just miss you, is all.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that. You agreed to dinner tonight, although it felt a bit intimidating after you ditched them so many times. But the haze was lifting a bit. The fog of heartbreak was clearing enough for you to be able to envision more than just how to get through the work day. An ease started to settle. It was uncomfortable since it had been so long since you felt even a morsel of ease. And the pregnancy scare did nothing to alleviate that. But you finally remembered that you weren’t alone. That you had somehow, even in this new city, found people who cared.

And you refused to give that up, now that you could grasp it again.

The dinner Erwin promised wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. Somehow, ‘dinner’ was Levi meeting you on the steps to your home (because Erwin didn’t want you to be alone) and then walking 10 blocks to a bar once he got out of work. Dinner was also Levi and Erwin introducing you to Hange for the first time, which then included an awkward run in with an angry Moblit.

“You avoid me for weeks only to turn up at my bar with these two! What’s that about?” He asked, both hands parked on his hips with a towel slung over the clothes he still wore from work. You offered him a shy smile and a shrug, hoping that would suffice.

“Not your bar,” Levi replied, walking around you into the dimly lit space and through a door that was marked ‘employees only.”

“He’s not wrong, Mobs. Technically this is Hange’s bar, maybe if either of you proposed already it could finally be yours,” Erwin teased while shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a worn in barstool. As the two retained their playful back and forth, you took that moment to finally look around. There were booths lining the wall with a large u-shaped one pressed into a corner near the windows. The leather was brown and in need of some TLC, but it somehow made the space cozy and inviting. The lights were low hanging lamps from the ceiling, singular as they dangled over each table and bathed it in golden.

There was also a small stage towards the back wall that held a single mic stand, and a booth that you presumed had to do with the karaoke machine attached to it on the ground. But opposite that was an old pool table. The green fabric needed to be upholstered and the head of one of the sticks was missing the cue tip. But there was so much charm surrounding the atmosphere. There was a sort of reckless care that came with the decor. Effortless yet intentional.

Which after your short conversation with Hange, it seemed like that was their whole vibe. Hair tossed in a claw clip perfectly messy while running around in a comfortable pair of dark wash jeans and an oversized flannel with the buttons undone.

“Can I get you something?” A deep, unfamiliar voice said from behind you. If you weren’t so hyper aware of the space you were in, it would’ve startled you, especially after turning around and being confronted with the tallest, broadest man you had ever seen.

“Uh,” you stuttered, eyes stuck on his chest where the fabric of his black t-shirt seemed to be a touch too tight. And when you finally met his eyes–dirty blonde hair messily resting over his forehead– he was smiling at you. Amused. “I’ll take a long island.”

He whistled, “first drink of the night?” He grabbed a tall glass and started gathering the ingredients to mix it.

“Yeah,” you stuffed your hands in your jacket pockets, cheeks warming at the call out. Instead of settling on the stool, you stood and kept taking in your surroundings. Moblit handed Erwin a beer as he polished some glasses, while Levi came striding out the back room with an excitable Hange following. His scowl was ever present, if not deeper set than usual. That brought a small smile to your face. At least one thing remained consistent after all this time.

The tall bartender slid your long island across the bartop and you stared at it for a second longer than normal because he was prompted to scoot it closer to you with his index finger. “Still want it? Unless you’re no longer drinking to forget something.”

You slipped the cold glass against your palm with a breathy chuckle. “Yes, I still want it and what makes you think I have anything to forget?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “no one starts a night of drinking off with a long island. Trust me, I’ve been doing this long enough.”

“Ah yes, the bartender to therapist pipeline,” you teased, sipping the drink and pleasantly surprised by the lack of alcohol you tasted. You saw his point now, if he was making drinks like this it was easy to have one too many.

“I’m Mike, by the way,” he laughed, wiping down the counter as he watched you drink. You offered your name in return after another suspiciously long sip.

“And if you keep mixing drinks like this make sure you cut me off after two.”

“Sure thing,” he grinned before Moblit called him to the opposite side of the bar to help with something. And you were left alone with the best long island you’ve ever had, watching the chaos of this friend group spiral out in a room full of strangers.

“He really was so handsome,” you giggled drunkenly, hanging off of Erwin’s elbow as he led you in the direction of your neighborhood.

“He is also taken,” Levi said, tugging the edge of your sleeve to steer you around a bent traffic cone Erwin hadn’t noticed since he also had one too many beers tonight. “And how did I get stuck babysitting you two?”

“Boooo,” you complained, ignoring Levi’s question, “all the hot, nice men are taken nowadays. I mean look at you two escorting my drunk ass home and tucking me into bed when any other woman in my situation would be getting dicked down tonight.”

“That’s the last thing you need after your day,” Levi grumbled, cheeks turning distinctively pink and you weren’t too sure if to blame it on the wind or not.

“Try months,” you pouted, the words not as heavy as they would’ve felt if not for the alcohol and the way your night turned your day around. You should’ve confided in them weeks ago. After Onyankopon left, maybe it would’ve made this transition that much easier. Hindsight was a tricky bitch if you were honest. Always giving you clarity when you need it least.

“You wouldn’t wanna be with Mike, anyway,” Erwin slurred, his blush definitely due to the alcohol. “He’s a bit intimidating, if you know what I mean.”

“Erwin, please,” Levi scolded, “don’t be so crass.”

You and Erwin shared a look before you fell into a fit of laughter, your breathless giggles following you all the way up the steps to your front door and stumbling over the threshold. As you stripped out of your clothes and laid on the couch in nothing but your underwear, you smiled to yourself. Your chest was full. The yearning ache that had been nestled there was lessened, your breaths coming easier for the first time in forever. Before falling asleep though, you checked your email after plugging in your charger for the night.

The usual was there, drafts from work and websites advertising their current sales. But there was one with Onyankopon’s record label as the sender. When you clicked on it all that was there was an audio file, the subject reading: thought you should hear this.

This should wait until the morning, when you were hungover but at least sober. The nerves were back. And you tried to take the steady breaths you taught yourself to calm down. But nothing was working, and your thumb just hovered over the big play symbol. Until you clicked it.

It was poppier than his usual songs, but it was a raw cut. Only his voice and a piano. This must be the first demo. Which somehow made the song hurt more because you knew it wasn’t intended for him, yet he was recording his own version. His voice was raspy around the edges and hoarse as it carried along certain notes. You should have stopped listening after the first verse. But it was addicting. Listening to his voice as he sang about how you broke his heart. A fresh cut. A new wound you had to lick.

Nothing about this separation has been predictable or remotely familiar. And you’ve never felt more like a stranger within your own body, but to know after all these years you were slowly becoming strangers to each other. Just ghosts of past versions of yourselves continuing to haunt one another. Until either of you were able to find your way out of this purgatory you managed to create.

To heaven or hell, you still didn’t know where this would land you. And time was humbling, if you’ve learned anything at all.

#eruri x reader #eruri fanfic #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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ya-world-challenge · 6 months

Text

YA Books about 🇦🇹 Austria

List of Austria books for the YA World Challenge.

It's been quite a while since I did a country-themed list. This one has been sitting in the drafts for a while.

I have discovered that YA books in English featuring Austria consist of only 3 categories:

WW2 (sometimes WW1)

Empress Sisi (interchangeable with Marie Antoinette or Nannerl Mozart)

Eva Ibbotson

And that's it. Well, I'm kidding, but it almost seems like it. Here's the little list I came up with. Feel free to suggest any I missed - I mostly search through Goodreads to find these so the list is prone to mistakes and omissions!

I Don't Live Here Anymore by Gabi Kreslehner 💚 The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu ⌛🦋 Gretel and the Dark by Eliza Granville ⌛ When the World Was Ours by Liz Kessler ⌛ Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld ⌛🦋 A Song for Summer by Eva Ibbotson 💚 Magic Flutes by Eva Ibbotson 💚 The Star of Kazan by Eva Ibbotson 💚 The Musician's Daughter by Susanne Dunlap ⌛ Bambi: A Life in the Woods by Felix Salten 💚 Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu ⌛🦋 Becoming Marie Antoinette: A Novel by Juliet Grey ⌛ European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman (#2) by Theodora Goss ⌛🦋 Wanderlost by Jen Malone 🏖️ Coronets and Steel by Sherwood Smith 🏖️🦋 The Empress by Gigi Griffis ⌛ The Secret Diary of a Princess by Melanie Clegg ⌛ The School at the Chalet by Elinor M. Brent-Dyer ⌛ In Mozart's Shadow: His Sister's Story by Carolyn Meyer ⌛ Apple's Song by Blake Ryan 🏖️

Hedy and her Amazing Invention by Jan Wahl 🛩️ The Thing I'm Most Afraid Of by Kristin Levine 🏖️♿ The Language of Spells by Garret Weyr 🦋 Searching for Lottie by Susan Ross 🛩️ Moonlight on the Magic Flute by Mary Pope Osborne 🏖️⌛🦋 Marie Antoinette, Princess of Versailles by Kathryn Lasky ⌛ The Night Crossing by Karen Ackerman ⌛ Stolen Words by Amy Goldman Koss 🏖️ The Taste of Snow by Stephen V. Masse

Memoir

Today is the Last Day of the Rest of Your Life by Ulli Lust GN 💚 How I Tried to Be a Good Person by Ulli Lust GN 💚 Fat by Regina Hofer 💚♿ Becoming Alice: A Memoir by Alice Rene 💚⌛

NA/Adult

The Accidental Empress by Allison Pataki ⌛ The Last Train to London by Meg Waite Clayton ⌛ Exile Music: A Novel by Jennifer Steil ⌛🌈 The English Girl by Margaret Leroy ⌛🏖️ The Secret Society of Salzburg by Renee Ryan ⌛ The Edelweiss Sisters by Kate Hewitt ⌛ The Light After the War by Anita Abriel ⌛ The End of Days by Jenny Erpenbeck ⌛ The Lost Letter by Jillian Cantor ⌛ The Winter Soldier by Daniel Mason ⌛ House of Gold by Natasha Solomons ⌛ Setting Free the Bears John Irving Stolen Beauty by Laurie Lico Albanese ⌛ The Girl with the Golden Scissors by Julia Drosten ⌛ Hidden Among the Stars by Melanie Dobson ⌛

💚 Native Author 🛩️ Immigrant or diaspora 🏖️ non-native characters in or about the country (ex. vacation/adventure) ⌛ Historical 🦋 Fantasy or Paranormal 🌈 LGBTQ+ ♿ Disability rep

#book list #austria #europe #ya books #booklr #diverse books

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jxrm · 15 days

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book log - 2022

his last wife by gia pere

a very merry bromance by lyssa kay adams

behind the messages by ella-may williams

the wife upstairs by rachel hawkins

pride, prejudice, & turkish delight by k.c. mccormick ciftci

the long way to a small, angry planet by becky chambers

honeymoon for one by rachel bowdier

let it snow by beth moran

resting scrooge face by meghan quinn

window shopping by tessa bailey

the family upstairs by lisa jewell

poster girl by veronica roth

x by sue grafton

queen bee by nina manning

the vibrant years by sonali dev

untamed by glennon doyle

book lovers by emily henry

the zookeeper's wife by diane ackerman

daisy darker by alice feeney

mating in captivity by esther perel

miss meteor by tehlor kay mejia

carrie soto is back by taylor jenkins reid

a good girl's guide to murder by holly jackson

the lesbiana's guide to catholic school by sonora reyes

fat chance, charlie vega by crystal maldonado

lakelore by anne-marie mclemore

you love me by caroline kepnes

happiness for beginners by katherine center

not my daughter by barbara delinsky

last tang standing by lauren ho

no filter and other lies by crystal maldonado

the southern book club's guide to slaying vampires by grady hendrix

does my body offend you? by mayra cuevas

i'm the girl by courtney summers

the expatriates by janice y.k. lee

emily, gone by bette lee crosby

after hours on milagro street by angelina m. lopez

i'm glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

my best friend's exorcism by grady hendrix

#murderfunding by gretchen mcneil

looking for jane by heather marshall

midwife murders by james patterson

final cut by s.j. watson

darling rose gold by stephanie wrobel

all the pretty people by barbara freethy

when i was you by minka kent

been there, married that by gigi levangie

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

covery story by susan rigetti

the paris apartment by lucy foley

stiletto sisterhood by fallon demornay

her perfect secret by t.j. brearton

take a chance on me by beth moran

the watcher girl by minka kent

no conscience by phil m. williams

reminders of him by colleen hoover

her last move by john marrs

we were dreamers by simu liu

the book of cold cases by simone st. james

all i stole from you by ava bellows

violeta by isabel allende

once of us is next - karen m. mcmanus

just the way you are by beth moran

the latecomer by jean hanff jorelitz

klara and the sun by kazuo ishiguro

the sorority murder by allison brennan

one italian summer by rebecca serle

what lies between us by john marrs

the maid by nita prose

sex and vanity by kevin kwan

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

the seven day switch by kelly harms

three perfect liars by heidi perks

everything must go by camille pagan

no ex before marriage by portia macintosh

the other mother by carol goodman

california girls by susan mallery

one little secret by cate holahan

apples never fall by liane moriarty

the promise by teresa driscoll

ghost boy by martin pistorius

close to you by ana jolene

oona out of order by margarita montimore

the stepson by jane renshaw

all adults here by emma straub

his & hers by alice feeney

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia

anatomy by dana schwartz

the resting place by camilla sten

will by will smith

good me, bad me by ali land

while we were dating by jasmine guillory

the lion's den by katherine st. john

when we left cuba by chanel cleeton

left neglected by lisa genova

the suspect by fiona barton

park avenue summer by renee rosen

group therapy by b.b. easton

the half sister by sandie jones

shipped by angie hockman

when we were sisters by emilie richards

the chain by adrian mckintu

not a happy family by shari lapena

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

if the shoe fits by julie murphy

the girlfriend by michelle frances

let me hear a rhyme by tiffany d. jackson

death by dumpling by vivien chien

yoga pant nation by laurie gelman

the cousins by karen m. mcmanus

in a holidaze by christina lauren

people we meet on vacation by emily henry

the candy house by jennifer egan

you've been volunteered by laurie gelman

broken by jenny lawson

you can't be serious by kal penn

the final girl support group by grady hendrix

home before dark by riley sager

one of us is lying by kate m. mcmanus

the vanishing half by brit bennett

the cross and the switchblade by david wilkerson

the henna wars by adiba jaigridar

the fashion orphans by randy susan meyers

the good girl by mary kubica

the comeback by ella berman

the magician's nephew by c.s. lewis

the bright lands by john fram

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ulkaralakbarova · 2 months

Text

It’s the 1970s and San Diego anchorman Ron Burgundy is the top dog in local TV, but that’s all about to change when ambitious reporter Veronica Corningstone arrives as a new employee at his station. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Ron Burgundy: Will Ferrell Veronica Corningstone: Christina Applegate Brian Fantana: Paul Rudd Brick Tamland: Steve Carell Champ Kind: David Koechner Ed Harken: Fred Willard Garth Holliday: Chris Parnell Helen: Kathryn Hahn Tino: Fred Armisen Eager Cameraman: Seth Rogen MC: Paul F. Tompkins Bartender: Danny Trejo Waiter at Tino’s: Scot Robinson Stage Manager: Ian Roberts Hot Blonde: Darcy Donavan Petite Brunette: Renee Weldon Tino’s Bassist: Jerry Minor Director: Holmes Osborne Security Guard: Charles Walker Biker Guy: Thomas E. Mastrolia Eyewitness News Member: Jay Johnston Man in Kitchen: Peter A. Hulne Donna: Laura Kightlinger Custodian: Adam McKay Custodian: Joseph T. Mastrolia News Station Employee: Judd Apatow News Station Employee: Debra McGuire Network Reporter: Kent Shocknek Yelling Woman: Monique McIntyre Bum: Bob Rummler Announcer: Chuck Poynter Middle Class Mother: Esmerelda McQuillan Elderly Woman: Angela Grillo Wealthy Family Father: Lionel Allen Wealthy Family Mother: Trina D. Johnson Doctor: Fred Dresch Middle Class Dad: Glen Hambly Nursing Room Resident: Stuart Gold Bill Lawson – Narrator (voice): Bill Kurtis Motorcyclist: Jack Black Arturo Mendes: Ben Stiller Frank Vitchard: Luke Wilson Frank the Bartender (uncredited): Frank Gorgie Zoo Keeper (uncredited): Missi Pyle Public TV News Anchor (uncredited): Tim Robbins Wes Mantooth (uncredited): Vince Vaughn Man in Bar (uncredited): Jerry Stiller Secretary (uncredited): Holly Traister Zoologist with Panda in Doug or Glen scene (uncredited): Matthew Vlahakis Reporter / Anchor (uncredited): Richard Yett Film Crew: Supervising Sound Editor: Mark A. Mangini Casting: Jeanne McCarthy Sound Effects Editor: Richard L. Anderson Stunts: Jack Gill Hair Department Head: Toni-Ann Walker Location Manager: Jeremy Alter Casting: Juel Bestrop Set Decoration: Jan Pascale Music Editor: Ellen Segal Writer: Will Ferrell Executive Producer: David O. Russell Art Direction: Virginia Randolph-Weaver Set Designer: Sally Thornton Director of Photography: Thomas E. Ackerman Music: Alex Wurman Producer: Judd Apatow Executive Producer: Shauna Robertson Editor: Brent White Costume Design: Debra McGuire Stunts: Joe Bucaro III Production Design: Clayton R. Hartley Writer: Adam McKay Co-Producer: David B. Householter Casting: Blythe Cappello Second Assistant Director: Basil Grillo First Assistant Director: Matt Rebenkoff Second Unit Director: Rick Avery Construction Coordinator: John R. Elliott Foley Artist: Joan Rowe Foley Artist: Sean Rowe Stunt Double: Sophia M. Crawford Property Master: Scott Maginnis Color Timer: David Orr Makeup Department Head: Kimberly Greene Script Supervisor: Rebecca Asher Sound Effects Editor: Mike Chock Sound Effects Editor: Donald Flick Key Hair Stylist: Joy Zapata Dialogue Editor: Ralph Osborn Sound Effects Editor: Piero Mura Set Designer: Randall D. Wilkins Set Designer: Barbara Mesney Still Photographer: Frank Masi Visual Effects Supervisor: Ray McIntyre Jr. Key Grip: Lloyd Moriarity Leadman: Louise Del Araujo Production Supervisor: Diane L. Sabatini Video Assist Operator: Paul Murphey Dialogue Editor: Thomas Jones Transportation Coordinator: Michael Menapace CG Supervisor: David Alexander Smith Dialogue Editor: Solange S. Schwalbe Digital Effects Supervisor: Reid Paul Still Photographer: Darren Michaels Additional Editing: Melissa Bretherton Art Department Coordinator: Jeanne Bueche Makeup Artist: Erin Wooldridge Music Editor: Erica Weis Visual Effects Supervisor: Richard R. Hoover Production Sound Mixer: Jim Stuebe First Assistant Camera: Baird Steptoe “A” Camera Operator: Harry K. Garvin Orchestrator: Tom Calderaro Visual Effects Producer: Diana Stulic Ibanez Stunts: Lisa Hoyle ADR Mixer: Jeff Gomillion “B” Camera Operator: Steven Hiller Stunts: Joni Avery Sound Recordist: Philip Rogers Assistant Art Di...

#1970s #aftercreditsstinger #battle of the sexes #duringcreditsstinger #gang warfare #journalism #Ladder #misogynist #mustache #news spoof #panda #screwball comedy #sexism #teleprompter #Top Rated Movies #tv show in film

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nadiasindi · 2 years

Text

Gov. Kate Brown Appointed 100 Judges.She made sure before she leaves, she appointed TWO more Judges to cover her back!

Arrest Gov. Brown, Rep. Nathanson & the Rest of Oregon Criminal Officials who are complicit with the Most Criminal Officials late Frohnmayer, late Rep. Ackerman

OR. late A.G. Frohnmayer had deleted all records in L.C. It shows I'd changed my name to Nadia Sindi.Left old name Faika Sindi.Changed letters to Saika Findi! Frohnmayer has trapped me in a criminal record since 1987!

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ask-levi-ackerman · 7 years

Note

that dad levi reply absolutely warmed my heart ty

#you're welcome :d #levi #levi ackerman #ask levi #ask snk #snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #melli #bluecrownedbird #renee-pm

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Undercover Lover prt 132

132

Standing before the panel, Levi felt two centuries too old for this shit. This after “Erwin therapy” was a terrible idea. Knowing he was on thin ice with Eren he’d asked to discuss the birth of Renee when the three of them were alone together. He was on thinner ice with Mikasa, not missing the glare directed his way over his “sudden” bonding with her brother. Too bad for her that he didn’t particularly care… nor did he care for the idea of celebrating their bonding, but if Eren wanted to then he wouldn’t take that from his mate. Shit. His shitty goddamn alpha was still flooding him with happiness and pride at the thought… which wasn’t exactly what he needed right now in front of the panel.

“Detective Ackerman, we wish to discuss your conduct in Stohess”

He’d gone through the bullshit with that piece of fly blown shit Floch, and though not naive, he hadn’t expected to be going back that far when they hadn’t even questioned him about Rod.

“You have now bonded with Detective Yeager. We also see that you have not returned to active duty since leaving Stohess. Should this go through to trial are you capable of performing your duties as a sworn officer of Paradis?”

What a load of shit. Hadn’t he shown that through his confession over what had happened with Floch? He’d admitted that he hadn’t acted rationally, nor in a manner befitting an officer. He’d already been before them twice as long as Eren had

“My relationship with Detective Yeager isn’t so fragile it would have either of us falling apart”

“Yet there was a time at the beginning of the year where you both parted ways”

That’d been back in January. Then they’d reconnected in April, with it now being July…

“I felt it was safer for Detective Yeager to return home due to the nature of his pregnancy. He needed support from his family and a stable routine. I fail to see how our relationship and what occurred at the time has any bearing on the information we provided”

“It goes towards his mental stability. It’s has been proven that he is mentally unstable on multiple occasions. From his repeated illness to his memory issues. Clearly his is unable to cope in a stressful situation, yet with his ties to Floch Forrester…”

Levi ground his back teeth together, trying to hold his tongue and let this play, but then they’d gone and insulted his mate

“Eren had no knowledge of Floch’s activities. He was repeatedly harassed Forrester, and while attempting to complete his duties he had a command placed on him by Forrester to forget Forrester assaulting a witness, only the command was too general and he began forgetting other things, suffering each time he tried to place events. I’m sure anyone would find that traumatic, without the added stress of pregnancy”

“We are asking for your professional opinion on Yeager, not your personal life story, Detective Ackerman”

This really was a shit show. They’d had it out for both of them since the first time they’d met and now they’d set of his alpha off about Eren he couldn’t rein it back in. The beast inside his brain clawing for control of his mouth

“As a commanding officer, I would trust Eren Yeager should he have been placed under my supervision. I worked with him under Rod Reiss and not once did he break protocol and inform me of his assignment. When he is given a task he performs to the highest standards he can. He threw himself into the Titan Steam case only to be constantly interrupted by Forrester who we know now instigated the whole thing to keep Detective Yeager close. From a professional standpoint he should have no issues returning to active duty after the birth of our child”

That was if you didn’t count Eren’s knee, his PTS, or his current health… Eren held such pride in his job. Even apart Levi knew Eren would have been throwing himself into his work and driving himself crazy trying to juggle pregnancy and his case load. He’d been nothing like Levi had thought him to be, in all the right ways. The lanky shit was strong in all the ways it counted and softer than a soggy turd.

“Yet you still asked him to leave?”

“For his sake and that of the baby”

They surely knew why Eren had actually left and Levi didn’t particularly want to relive what was the biggest mistake he’d ever made in front of them.

“Yet you yourself were unable to complete your assignment. It speaks to your professionalism in the face of personal dramas”

“I made the decision that I was emotionally compromised and that another agent would have better success. I wasn’t aware that acknowledging when you need to take a step back wasn’t viewed as professional”

He should have taken a card out of Eren’s playbook and covered his glands. Eren had said all along that they were gunning for him and here they were again.

“Then why is that you failed to take a step back upon Detective Yeager presenting? It was his alleged presentation that caused error in your original case and his pregnancy that halted your second case”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Closing his eyes, Levi took a slow deep breath before exhaling just as slowly and opening his eyes again. His scent was growing too agitated. For so long he’d had such “perfect” control and now he needed control he found himself struggling

“In both circumstances Detective Yeager was not the cause of the issues that later arose. His presentation was being monitored and his treating physician trusted in me to remain by his side, as he himself was unaware of Eren’s assignment. Due to his recent presentation and issues with his regressive omega we were told conception chances would be quite low. Yes. He presented in a reaction to my pheromones where it was shown that we are compatible partners. He accompanied me upon my suggestion as a cover, given the location of the house we were using in Stohess. I may sound biased but it should also be noted upon record of the job he did compiling and tracing dealer information throughout Shinganshima, leading to a record recovery of drugs in the district. He has never once asked for recognition or praise for his actions, instead preferring to work on his task to the best of his ability and within his limits. If you’re going to go for his throat, then spit it out instead of running the topic around like a dog with half a turd hanging out it’s shitty arsehole”

He’d spent too much time with Eren. Realising he’d let himself blunder, his omega was going to laugh himself stupid once he told him what he’d said. None of the panel looked particularly pleased… And he’d just undone everything he’d done to try plea he wasn’t compromised enough to give a false statement on Eren’s behalf.

“Detective Ackerman, I suggest you stow the attitude. We are all working towards a solution for this situation and frankly what we’ve been told is quite unbelievable and with reference to Eren past we should not be surprised if we find his own past drug use has something more to do with this than stated”

Levi could have laughed if the situation wasn’t so pathetic. He’d half forgotten his boyfriend was an “ex drug using murderer”. Fuck they’d come a long way since the days where he’d caught Eren silently crying on his own in that shit hole of an apartment

“Tch. What part of it is unbelievable? We have provided testimony, statements, and evidence from the times you’ve requested. We have cooperated to the best of our abilities. Every issue has had medically has been formally recorded, and so has Floch Forrester’s confession that his inability to let go of his lingering feelings for Detective Yeager played a heavy part in all that has transpired. As well as his admittance on record to having placed a command on Detective Yeager for his own personal gain. You are all looking for evidence that isn’t there in an attempt to build a case against both of us and force a formal disciplinary hearing. If any formal sentencing should take place it should be Floch Forrester’s arrest. You should be investigating him rather than trying to pin everything on Detective Yeager. Yes, there were times we acted in a way that you would call grossly inappropriate for two serving officers, but if you took the actual time to look beyond your own preconceived notions perhaps this would have led to a conclusion that’s correct instead of a witch hunt and discrimination towards a serving omega”

He’d already dug the hole, he might as well start backfilling it up to his neck. There was a serious lack of unprofessionalism here that was causing repeated stalling and an incorrect investigation upon the panel’s behalf. Their incompetence baffled him. Not that he was one to talk… he hadn’t exactly been the best officer he could be since the kidnapping incident. If this went to trial formally, which it seemed it would, Eren would need to be prepared for him to take the fall. His mate was strong. He’d be able to cope with him gone, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time and though he’d miss time with Renee, it wouldn’t be forever. Not that he wanted to miss a single second with them. Not anymore.

“I think we will suspended today’s interview there. It is my suggestion you rein in your temper and attitude before your next appearance”

Biting down the suggestion that perhaps they also needed to take a look at themselves, Levi gave a nod. He’d seen regular officers take runs at suspects before, repeatedly asking the same shitty questions until the perp cracked… but this gave him a whole new empathy towards the innocent and a whole new feeling of sympathy for those who confessed despite being innocent to end the never ending loop of questions. Shit… Eren was going to laugh at him so damn hard and tease him about being a sap. Tch. His brat was too mouthy lately, the little shit knew he was wrapped around his goddamn finger… yet somehow that was preferable to this shit show any goddamn day of the week.

Leaving the conference room, Erwin glanced up at him. Levi’s attention was past the man and on the small snack supply between the alpha and his sleeping mate

“Should I ask?”

“He crashed out. He was gone long enough I thought about going looking for him, then he showed up with snacks and fell asleep”

“How long‘s he been out?”

“About half an hour. Should I ask how it went?”

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer if you do. Tch. It’s all a fucking witch-hunt and they want Eren swinging from a rope by the end of it”

“We already had that feeling”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Levi bit back a sigh. He just couldn’t keep his cool when it came to his omega and he’d definitely would have made things worse in there

“Yeah, I know. I’m emotionally compromised and not acting or thinking rationally”

“It took you this long to figure that out?”

“No, but it did take this long for them to spit it out. No. We’re both going to be disciplined, but at this rate we’ll be comparing sentence lengths rather than getting all this shit wrapped up in pretty fucking bows and shiny paper”

“It won’t come to that”

If only the panel could see Eren now. The omega’s head tilted back against the wall, both hands on his stomach, and crumbs on his jacket… Why did he have to be in love with such a cute slob?

“I’m not sure even the great Erwin Smith can stop that. Can you get his snacks, he’ll get hangry later”

Erwin reached for the closest bottle as he chuckled

“I’m sure you’re already aware, but Eren isn’t a child”

“No, and you’d never tell he’s a trained officer with him sleeping like that”

“I’m not sleeping, I’m examining the inside of my eyelids”

Levi snorted at Erwin jumping at Eren’s sleepy mumble

“Tch. I think you gave him a heart attack”

Opening his eyes, his brat smiled his way as his hands moved across his belly

“I’m pretty sure his eyebrows deflected the worst of it. You sure took your time. I take it that you lost your temper and after that they kicked you out”

Levi liked it better when Eren couldn’t scent anything, especially when aided him getting in trouble with his omega

“Sometimes you’re a shit, Yeager”

Eren moved to interlace his fingers before stretching out in front of him, a smile on the omegas lips as he looked to him

“Then don’t come out smelling pissed. I may have done something we need to talk about when we get home”

Oh great. Eren had been off thinking on his own again…

“Should I be worried?”

“Possibly…”

“How worried?”

“Worried enough that I hope you’ll remember I love you when I tell you”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Levi already didn’t like whatever Eren’s news was. Knowing his shitty omega the way he did, he’d have done something drastic

“I don’t think I want to know. Don’t tell me you popped Renee out while I was in there”

Eren snorted at him, hand moving lower on his belly as his smile dropped towards their daughter

“No. She’s still in there. I was on the phone”

“Who let you have your phone back?”

He didn’t even know where Eren’s phone had been let alone how he’d gotten his hands on it. It must have been through Mikasa…

“Me. Anyway, seeing you’ve pissed them off is it time to get out of here?”

“Eren, what did you do?”

“I may have called Pixis to discuss what’s happening on his end, then Hannes called because he couldn’t get in contact with you about me, then I had to call Pixis back… and… I may have kind of given my official resignation, well, verbal… pending… I told him I had to talk to with you first, but… yeah”

Great. Just… great. He wasn’t letting Eren let himself be run out of job he loved so much by a bunch of shits that’d probably never served to begin with

“You’re not resigning over this shit”

“I kind of am… Um… Hannes needs me to go back sooner. There was a delay with one of the tests and he wants talk about it with both of us. But, yeah… I don’t know”

Erwin cleared his throat, as Levi bit down a sigh. He knew Eren too well not to know when his brat was hiding something

“Perhaps this is a conversation we should continue back at the apartment?”

Eren nodded as nodded as slowly gathered himself up. When his omega wobbled as he stood, Levi moved to support him without thinking, earning himself a kiss on the top of the head

“I’m fine, shitty alpha. I wasn’t about to embarrass myself further here”

“You nearly tripped over your own feet, you shit”

“And you should be used to it by now. God, I hope Mikasa lets me take a nap this afternoon… when she teams up with Hanji and Isabel I get scared”

Erwin snorted at Eren, gathering up the shared snacks obediently

“We all get a little scared when Hanji’s involved, she’s going to be a handful soon”

Eren’s hugged him tighter before he nodded, “nuzzling” against Levi’s hair as he did. His brat was off recharging on him again like he was a goddamn teddy bear

“Yeah… but in the best way. At least we won’t have a drunk Hanji to compete with”

“She told you?”

“We smelt it on her and decided not to say anything until she did”

“I think she’d be excited if you did”

“It’s not our place. But we’re excited for her, even “Captain Scowl” here is, aren’t you?”

“If you say so. All I can say is I’m glad your shitty arse is popping soon. Between you and her both being I’m not sure the apartment will survive two hormonal brats carrying brats”

Levi found himself being released by Eren. He hadn’t meant to say the wrong thing, and wasn’t sure how he had, only that he’d suddenly upset his mate. Casting a glance to Erwin, Erwin hadn’t seemed to notice anything. Leaving his words hanging, Eren didn’t come back teasing, no, Erwin filling in the gap

“Yes, well. We can discuss it on the drive home. And think about it, widdle Levi. Who do you think will be left to plan her baby shower?”

One was bad enough. Two was impossible. He cared for Hanji but shit knew he was not a party planner

“Petra. Eren and I will be leaving the country”

Chuckling at them, Erwin still hadn’t noticed anything off with Eren. So maybe he was overthinking things?

“You know she’ll track you down. She’s probably on her way here right now seeing how long you took. Eren, will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just anxious to get that nap in”

“Right, let’s get you home then”

#ashratherose #snk #undercoverlover #ereri #mpreg #undercover lover

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solstemis · 7 years

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im so sorry i had to do it "Hey can i copy ur hw?" "Yeah sure just change it a little" but yeah i love it, vampires and hunters ❤️

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #connie springer #historia reiss #christa lenz #ferid bathory #crowley eusford #lacus welt #renee simm #vampires #kyojin #episode 33

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sleepyspoonie · 5 years

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I 100% agree with you that dieting should NOT be the cure all for a medical condition. Maybe im being overly sensitive, maybe i don't understand the context? But when you said dieting doesn't work for anyone, admittedly i got a little taken aback. What do you mean by that?

Hey there! I’m really glad you asked, and I’ve put some stuff together to answer as thoroughly as possible. The facts of the matter are that most people regain all the weight they’ve lost on a diet within the first 3 years, and up to 95% of people regain all that weight loss within 5 years and often gain more than they lost, even if their eating habits didn’t change.

Here are some stats I found regarding different surveys:

“In one study, 3 years after participants concluded a weight loss program, only 12% had kept off at least 75% of the weight they’d lost, while 40% had gained back more weight than they had originally lost (9Trusted Source).

Another study found that 5 years after a group of women lost weight during a 6-month weight loss program, they weighed 7.9 lbs. (3.6 kg) more than their starting weight on average (10Trusted Source).

Yet, another study found that only 19% of people were able to maintain a 10% weight loss for 5 years (11Trusted Source).

It also appears that weight regain occurs regardless of the type of diet used for weight loss, although some diets are linked to less regain than others.”

text taken from here.

Furthermore, weight isn’t strictly tied to health, and while there is a correlative relation between weight and some health risks, there is no direct relation that studies have been able to prove. Here’s some stuff a registered dietician has to say about that:

“Health is not as inextricably linked to weight as we’ve been taught. Yes, there is some correlation between weight and health risks, but there is very little evidence to show that weight causes any health problems. In terms of modifiable risk factors, our weight is not something we can really control or manage – our body will do with it what it will; what we can (somewhat) control is our behaviors around food, movement, stress, sleep, and coping skills. These are ‘actionable’ things that we can do to try to improve our health; weight is not an action (…) so dieting to try to lose weight doesn’t actually help, but causes harm – it causes us to be disconnected from our body’s appetite/satiety cues.”

—Allison Rumsey, MS, RD. Text taken from here.

Furthermore, studies have shown there is a direct relation to dieting, weight cycling, and negative health outcomes.

“An analysis of the benefits and harms of dieting must consider the potential harms of weight cycling. Weight cycling, the repeated loss and regain of weight, is commonly observed in dieters (Brownell & April 2007 ● American Psychologist 229 Rodin, 1994; National Task Force on the Prevention and Treatment of Obesity, 1994).

There is evidence from largescale observational studies that weight cycling is linked to increased all-cause mortality (Blair, Shaten, Brownell, Collins, & Lissner, 1993; Lee & Paffenbarger, 1992) and to increased mortality from cardiovascular disease (Hamm, Shekelle, & Stamler, 1989).

In addition, weight cycling is associated with increased risk for myocardial infarction, stroke, and diabetes (French et al., 1997), increased highdensity lipoprotein cholesterol (Olson et al., 2000), increased systolic and diastolic blood pressure (Kajioka, Tsuzuku, Shimokata, & Sato, 2002), and even suppressed immune function (Shade et al., 2004)”

From this study here, which is a 50-year weight loss study I found via @bigfatscience.

So, weight cycling negatively impacts your health, and up to 95% of people regain all lost weight within 5 years of going on a diet. Weight loss is inherently harmful, and weight is not a useful tool as a health determinant.

It would also be remiss not to put it out there that western fatphobia, unsurprisingly, has its roots in antiblack racism. There are some good books about it, particularly Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia.

And I think that’s everything I can put together for now. If you want to learn more about intuitive eating and the harm that’s caused by diet culture, here’s some media you can check out.

Blogs: @bigfatscience

Podcasts: Intuitive Bites by Kirsten Ackerman; Love, Food by Julie Duffy Dillon; She’s all Fat, by Sophie Carter-Kahn & April K. Quioh. I also intend to listen to Intuitive Eating for the Culture, by Christyna Johnson, but I’m wrapping up PCOS and Food Peace also by Julie Duffy Dillon, which I recommend anybody who has PCOS give a listen to.

Books: Intuitive Eating by by Elyse Resch and Evelyn Tribole; The Body Is Not an Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor; Body Respect by Lindo Bacon and Lucy Aphramor; You Have the Right to Remain Fat by Virgie Tovar.

I’ll close this off with this graphic:

#flaccid-robot-penis #fatphobia cw #antiblack racism cw #dieting cw #food cw

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goldeneyedgirl · 5 years

Text

Ficathon: Mad World

I’ve spent today on uni work and chipping away on Shadow to Light, so instead of a prompt fic, have a sample of one of my WIPs - this one is Mad World, a fic where Alice is the daughter of Charlie Swan’s estranged sister who goes to live with Bella and Charlie. It was an experiment in gothic horror/romance, tbh.

“If you don't know where you are going any road can take you there.” - Lewis Carroll

When I look up at the sky in Forks, I don’t see clouds. Or I do, but they’re obscured by leaves and branches; the forest stretches above me and it’s nice. Private and safe, even though it makes it feel a lot later and darker than it really is. It’s like we’re in a cocoon, and there’s no one else in the world.

I return to reality as his teeth rasp against my stomach, above my belly button, and I giggle, ticklish. I’m splayed across a rock, and it's scratching my back - my sweater is balled up in the dirt, and my shirt is pushed up above my bra.

My fingers twist in his hair and I smirk as he looks back up at me. Jasper Hale; who I sit next to in History and in Trig. His shirt hangs open, revealing a body that will be taking pride of place in my fantasies.

“You okay?” His voice is low and even, but his eyes are sharp. Dark, and watching me. For a moment, I see calculation and something I should react to. Something dangerous. Like he could kill me right here and now; fuck me and choke me; rip me into wet, meaty pieces; beat my skull into dust with a rock. This boy, this man, is dangerous, and I have invited him to get much, much closer. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and he wouldn’t be the first.

And I don’t care. That darkness, that rage, and potential for violence, I’m not scared of it. I haven’t been for a long time. It’s easier to consent than to resist. And more than that, I like that darkness. I like that sharp edge. And what I know of Jasper Hale, I like.

Whatever I am feeling twists and fades into the steady thrum of lust, of confidence and willingness.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say, and tug his hair to bring his face closer to mine.

And that’s how I spent my third afternoon in Forks; fooling around with Jasper Hale in the woods behind the high school auditorium.

—

It’s a rainy Thursday night when I finally, finally arrive in Forks. And in that moment, it is the most beautiful place on earth - the green of the forest, the grey of the rain, the fresh air. It is Shangri-La on Earth, and I am apart of it.

I left North Carolina on Monday, and since then have taken a bus, a train, another bus, another train, and a third bus. I have layers upon layers of deodorant and grime upon my skin; my phone is dead; my hair is greasy from the endless styling tutorials I looked up to combat boredom, and all I want is something to eat and a shower. Anything that isn’t itchy seats, never-ending road, or snack foods would be heaven upon earth at this moment.

In truth, I don’t feel human anymore. I feel like a transient spirit, a modern-day gypsy, a lost girl. That for the rest of time, this will be my life - dirt and fuel and waiting for an end that never comes. But somehow, I have made it to Forks; the red ‘x’ on my photocopied map is finally a real place, with buildings and streets and people. Forks isn’t home, but it is the most welcoming sight I have had in years.

I jump down from the bus; a backpack on my shoulder, a satchel across my chest and a duffle bag in one hand. For all intents and purposes, this is all I own in the world. Twenty-three dollars in my wallet, and my entire life in my bags. I could go anywhere I wanted, except twenty-three dollars won’t take me many places.

No one else on the bus carries as much luggage as I do, and no one is dressed alike either - I changed at the Seattle bus station into my second-to-last clean outfit, to try and make a good impression. Everyone else is wearing a jeans-parka-boots combination, which is probably smart with the horrible weather. Not that I will miss the hideous summers of North Carolina. But I get the sense that this bus is full of locals, who busted happened to be travelling from Port Angeles or Seattle. There’s something about them, like the green of the forest, the dirt and mud of the ground, the rainwater has sunken into their bodies and marked them invisibly as belonging to the town of Forks. I wonder if I’ll be here long enough to be marked too.

The bus station is the smallest I’ve been to on this whirlwind road trip - a tiny convenience store, a spinning rack of postcards, a payphone, and endless wooden benches.

Uncle Charlie is right there, waiting for me - sitting on a bench with a paper cup of coffee. Even if he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, I would have guessed he was my uncle. He doesn’t strictly look like my mother, but there is something in the way they carry themselves, the way that they fill space. I don’t know. I just know that he is definitely Mom’s little brother, one Chief Charlie Swan of Forks, WA.

My new guardian - saviour or gaoler is yet to be determined.

“Uncle Charlie!” I put a big smile on my face and march straight up to him - if life has taught me nothing else, it’s that first impressions count. And not to piss off the person in charge of your welfare. “I’m Alice.”

Uncle Charlie looked up at me, and for a moment, just stared.

So, my outfit wasn’t the best first impression I could have picked. But it was the only one left that I could wear in public - my beloved, holey galaxy leggings; ancient floral Dr Martens that I had laced with pink ribbons; a giant purple and black sweater, and a black miniskirt. Combined with the pancake make-up I had used to cover up my blotchy-skin and dark under-eye circles, my greasy hair knotted in two buns with my collection of dollar-store butterfly clips, and the fact that I smelt like four days of bus, sweat, and fried food, I definitely looked like the devil child my mother probably portrayed me as.

“Mary Alice!” Uncle Charlie recovered. “How was your trip?” He smiled awkwardly and stood up.

“Long,” I said ruefully. “But I’m here now.”

—

Uncle Charlie tried to make conversation as we drove back to his place, as if a truncated game of ‘Twenty Questions’ could undo the awkwardness of not knowing about each other for seventeen years.

And it wasn’t like I could abridge my messy, ridiculous life story into a fifteen minute car trip, anyway. Or that Charlie Swan could become a beloved uncle between the bus station and his home.

Who was I?

I was Mary-Alice Brandon, eldest daughter of Annette Marie Swan-Ackerman, the only child of the late artist Nicholas Brandon. Resented step-daughter of Stephen Ackerman. A granddaughter and a niece and a half-sister. Former prisoner of a remote reform school. Epileptic. A secret keeper, and an artist.

How could I tell Uncle Charlie all the tiny details that made up me, and the reason I was here with him now?

That my mother is no Swan, but a chameleon, a snake, a cuckoo in the nest?

That the last of my stitches came out last week, but the scars still itch like crazy?

That I used to love gas-station slushies, especially pink ones, until I was twelve? That now I love soda, so cold it makes your brain and teeth hurt, and tastes like static?

And besides, what do I know about Charlie and my cousin? He’s a divorced police chief, and his daughter Isabella is also seventeen years old - five months older than me - and lives with him full-time. She attends the local public high school. That my grandparents are dead, and my ex-aunt has since remarried.

That’s it. That’s all I really know. And I am about to live with them.

If I think about it too much, it just feels like another trap.

—

The Swan house was small, but then, so were all the houses on the street. It was old, too, but I’d always known that was a probability. It didn’t make it easier, though. I’ve never done well in old houses. It needed a few repairs - the paint was peeling off, one of the shutters was hanging at an angle, and the front garden was dirt, grass, moss and ferns. Uncle Charlie struck me as a neat and practical kind of person, so this was surprising. But maybe in the spring, I could coax some kind of garden to life, as a way to say thank-you.

We walked in the backdoor, letting it swing shut behind us with a bang. Inside, the hallway was narrow and dark, with stairs leading up, and a few aged pieces of art hung on the plaid walls - mostly landscapes, and several of fish that were very good, if hideously ugly.

The first thing my eye caught was the mantlepiece in the sitting room, above the fireplace - a shrine to a teenage girl who bore a startling resemblance to Mom.

“Wow,” I said, moving closer. The eyes, the smile, the brown hair - this had to be my cousin. “Is that Isabella?”

“Yeah, that’s Bells. She’s out with her boyfriend at the moment,” Uncle Charlie said, setting down my duffle bag.

“She looks just like Mom,” I said, amazed. It was uncanny - Bella looked more like Mom’s daughter than I did.

“I guess she does,” Uncle Charlie said. “Bells is much prettier than Annette was at that age - but that’s all Renee.”

Charlie sounded uncomfortable, and I had to admit to myself that I was uncomfortable hearing my mother’s name. Turning away from the photographs, I pasted a smile back on my face.

“Sorry, I’m easily distracted,” I said. “You were going to show me my room?”

“Yeah. It’s not much,” Uncle Charlie began. “It’s pretty small…”

“You’re taking me in. That makes everything else perfect,” I said firmly, grabbing my backpack again. “Lead the way.”

—

Well.

Uncle Charlie had warned me that my bedroom was tiny.

It was more than tiny – more like a large alcove with glass doors. The walls were off-white, and a square window looked over a tiny yard and the forest. A narrow bed was wedged against the wall, made up with a hideous yellow bedspread. A dresser was arranged against the wall between the bed and doors. Opposite the dresser was a tiny desk and chair. Jammed in the gap at the end of the bed, next to the desk, was an old laundry hamper.

I was betting I could touch the window and the door with my arms outstretched.

Luckily I was used to small living spaces. I wasn’t sharing with anyone; that was enough to make up for the fact that this room would have been a better closet. Or window box. Apparently, Uncle Charlie had used it as an office when he needed to bring work home.

I set my bags on the bed. This was going to be my home for the next year and a half. It felt overwhelming all of a sudden, that I would be living with an uncle and cousin I had never even met before. It wasn’t like school, where I had shared a room with seven other girls, and we’d all been strangers.

I could do this.

It was only eighteen months. I had been away at school nearly three times that long, and if I could survive school, I could survive living at Uncle Charlie’s.

I had intended to unpack and settle in before dinner, but in the end, I just changed into some pyjamas, shoved my bags under the bed, and fallen asleep nearly instantly. I didn’t wake up until much later, almost midnight, starving and disorientated. I crept out of my room, making a note to buy some kind of curtains for the glass doors to give myself some privacy.

Uncle Charlie and my cousin were clearly already asleep, so I got myself a glass of water. There was a note scrawled out for me, telling me to help myself to food, and that they’d see me tomorrow. I felt bad for vanishing without spending time with them or even meeting Bella, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now.

The house was quiet in the darkness, but I used my phone to carefully navigate - and look around. The shrine held a wedding photo of a much-younger Charlie, and the woman who was my ex-aunt; a sad memento when I knew that Uncle Charlie had been divorced for quite a long time. An off-brand recliner sat near a small, out-of-date television, the remote on top of a TV guide, with various sports matches circled in pen. Several pairs of shoes sat by the front door - my cousin was clearly a strong supporter of Converse sneakers.

The leftovers in the fridge looked kind of suspect – some luminous mac and cheese, a chicken that was nearly picked clean, and some greasy looking Chinese. I ended up slapping some peanut butter on some bread, and drinking nearly half a carton of milk, before vanishing back into my new ‘bedroom’ for some more sleep.

Peering out of the uncovered window into the night, I could see beyond the fence line into the black of the forest. The tops of the trees cut the bottom half of the sky off perfectly, like an old-fashioned silhouette. It was strange to imagine my mother living in this kind of town, growing up here. But then, I had a hard time picturing my dad and her being married, too.

Lying back, I stared out at the night sky, the slow movement of clouds over the stars lulling me back to sleep.

#fic: mad world #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fan fiction #twificathon2020 #twilight #my fic #my writing

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