#weighing scale for shop

[nebulairis]

//

[flipzone]

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[imstartrading01]

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[ladyymiisa]

UP SO LATE?

summary: a late night visit from your sweet boyfriend!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, fluff, a bit of spice but it’s barely there like you have to squint to see it

author’s note: YEAAAHHH WE ARE SO BACK BABY i’ve had this idea for months now im so glad i could finally write it out it was eating me up 🤞 also on a scale of 1 to 10 how wiling would you guys be to read obey me fics 😋

it happens during the late hours of the night, when you're completely worn out from a long day of work, after you've showered, applied all of the lotions in your bathroom, and changed into your coziest pajamas. by the time you’re usually done, your eyes can barely stay open from how tired you are, and all you can think about is sleep.

just like clockwork, right as you settle into the most comfortable position in bed, you hear it: three knocks on your balcony door—one firm, two light. the all too familiar signal that announces his presence.

despite the tiredness weighing down your limbs and your body’s desperate plea to stay cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, the excitement of seeing him always overcomes your exhaustion. it drives you to get out of bed quickly, your feet carrying you eagerly to the balcony to let keigo inside.

a fact about keigo is that he never fails to arrive with some sort of gift for you. whether it’s a small flower he picked up on his way or a box of chocolates he knows you particularly enjoy, he always comes bearing something. perhaps it’s his way of compensating for the lateness of his visits.

tonight is no different. without even glancing at the shopping bag he’s holding, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

the action causes keigo to let out a surprised sound, which quickly shifts into an amused chuckle. as he adjusts the bag with the help of two feathers, balancing it effortlessly so that the contents inside don’t get damaged, he embraces you back just as tightly. his warmth, mingled with the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air, envelops you entirely, making you acutely aware of just how much you had missed him during the day.

“looks like someone’s quite eager to see me,” keigo remarks teasingly, his voice partially muffled by your hair as he plants a gentle kiss to your head. “you almost knocked the daylights out of me, babe.”

instead of giving keigo a verbal response, you nuzzle further into his shoulder, concealing your burning cheeks from his view. he laughs again, which prompts you to grumble softly against his jacket.

“keep acting cheeky and you might end up sleeping on the balcony,” you warn keigo, drawing back from the embrace to face him directly. despite your words, your arms remain looped comfortably around his neck.

now that you can clearly see his face, you take notice of the faint blush reaching the tips of his ears. sly bastard, he has the audacity to tease you as if he were any better. fortunately for him, being the considerate girlfriend that you are, you decide to refrain from commenting on it.

unfortunately for you, keigo’s fluster is short-lived. he quickly becomes more daring as his hands, which were previously caressing the small of your back, move to rest on your hips. he gives them a gentle squeeze, drawing you closer to his body while his fingers trail lightly along your sides.

honey-shaded eyes gaze at you devilishly. your warning appears to have no effect on keigo; if anything, it seems to amuse him further.

he hums softly, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “oh, really? you’d actually deprive your poor, overworked boyfriend of your warm bed?” he leans in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “and your touch? your warmth?”

before you can even register it, his lips begin to trace a path of feather-light kisses from your cheek to your jaw, gradually moving towards your neck with slow, carefully practiced pecks. he’s clearly aware of the effect he has on your body, for the moment his teeth intentionally bite into that particular spot that has your mind short-circuiting, any retort you had prepared fades away. the way he works you up so easily is enough to erase any trace of tiredness from your body, replacing it with newfound excitement instead.

your arms tighten their hold around his neck. he feels the way your fingers entangle themselves into his hair, giving it a firm tug. the sensation causes him to emit a low, appreciative grunt against your skin. as keigo continues to kiss, lick and suck along your neck, you find yourself unable to suppress the soft moans that fall from your lips any longer. the moment his ears pick up on them, he promptly lifts you, his hands moving beneath your ass to support your weight.

without any complaints, you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing yourself to yield completely to his touch. at this point, there’s no use in trying to fight back. you’re in for a long, long night.

as keigo slides the balcony door open and carries you into the bedroom, he takes care that his feathers place the shopping bag carefully on your desk. seems like you won’t be needing the lingerie set inside it tonight. no matter, he’ll ensure that you find use for it next time.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Ya boy got Full Marks. Healthy, bushy-tailed, blood pressure "very good (impressed tone)", all results bang on where they should be.

Heading off to Soho to buy myself a comic book and a dildo as a reward.

Thank you to everyone who sent asks and checked in. I am literally just a massive wuss with medical stuff and having to get my kit off for strangers so, uh, I'm good.

Getting stared down on the train, fellas.

Can confirm a wink and an air kiss works as well as ever.

[from-izzy]

[21:15] | nct huang renjun

“Don’t listen to society. Don’t look at their views. You're beautiful and I love you as you are. I promise.”

pairing » nct huang renjun x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » hurt/comfort, fluff and angst (pretty balanced imo), renjun is concerned for your wellbeing, but he loves you and is willing to show that anytime!, renjun is comforting and patient, best boyfriend huang renjun, renjun letting you steal his clothes instead of buying new ones

word count, estimated reading time » 772, ~3 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader has trouble with body image, reader struggles with body changes in gaining and losing weight, mentions of being stuck between two clothing sizes, weighing body in the first few parts of the story, reader implied medium to long length hair, renjun is taller and physically bigger than the reader

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

to the you who has doubted the image that any reflective mirror has shown you. surround yourself with people who love you as you are and love yourself as you are. you don't need to change and you don't need to force yourself to change.

if you stay true to yourself, treat your body with kindness, you will be able to see yourself in a healthier light.

it's not easy and it never was. the journey to be able to fully smile at yourself when you've been drowned in doubt is hard but i will pray that day for you will come.

It stares you dead in the eyes.

The meeting of the double arrow-like lines would only appear when you put a considerable amount of yourself with the help of gravity. Then when you do, it blinks alive, calculating the shift of your body and the amount of pressure you would willingly give them. You passed the single-digit stage a long time ago, the same time that you overgrew your baby crib. As you age and mature, you watch the first number change and morph, the next number coming along as it accommodates the changes in your body.

It doesn’t help that the scale is reflective, the fear in your eyes clear and the gulp of your throat resonated deeply in your head as you thought of the amount of food that you digested along with the lack of movement that spreads the entire week.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gone shopping today.

Or maybe, you should’ve never gone clothes shopping at all.

Your mind goes back to the image reflected on the shiny surface of the changing room. It tells you that even though you have made progress, the outfit that wraps around your skin isn't as pretty as you depicted on the mannequin by the big shop window.

Hypnotised to see the truth, your other foot raises, leaving condensation on the marbled floor due to stress. But before it could form a footprint on the glass, a pair of arms lifted you, kicking the machine to the best he could given the non-slip stickers on its bottom for user safety.

“You’ve just weighed yourself ten minutes ago,” the fact whispered in your ear directly. Renjun tightens his hold around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Talk to me, bubs.”

The worried gaze falls upon you as soon as you turn your head sideways. Tears well up in your eyes when Renjun gives a half smile, eyes tender and fingers reaching to swipe the loose strands of hair that tickle your vision. 

“I just feel stuck,” you confessed, hitching rapid breaths with the way your boyfriend turns you to face him, lower body slightly bent to face you head-on. “I tried a bunch of clothes today and I feel like I'm stuck between the two sizes—it just feels like,” your eyes wander around the place, the room seemingly spinning and the tears clouding your view.

Renjun’s hands envelop your shaking ones, pulling them closer to the beating of his chest, in an attempt to ground you back to the present. His heartbeat runs through your fingertips, slowly matching his calming ones and eventually syncing when he instructs you to breathe in the cooler air through your nose and exhale the carbon dioxide through your mouth.

“Those clothes aren't good enough for you then,” Renjun’s brown orbs intently focus on your tear-stricken ones. Without another notice, he cups your cheek, his thumb giving reassuring swipes to your itchy and sticky skin from the salt water. “They don't deserve to be put on your beautiful body.”

It sends chills down your system, closing your eyes to further focus on the tapping of his pointer on the back of your palm. Renjun nods, humming to the count of his fingers on your skin, seeing how your throat stops constricting by your cries, hushing you and pressing delicate kisses on your spent eyelids.

“Don’t listen to society. Don’t look at their views. You're beautiful and I love you as you are. I promise,” Renjun’s sincerity hits your body in a warm wave and your eyes are now crying for a different reason. “Oh?” He exclaims amusedly, the hand on your cheek still holds yours to guide your now relaxed face into the broadness and safety of his chest.

Renjun sways his body, alternating his body weight between his legs. A hand is wrapped securely around your waist, the other crossing diagonally across the back of your head. The fingers on top found a home in your scalp, massaging your negative thoughts away.

“I love you too, Junnie.” 

The nickname that sounds even lovelier gives his heart life, chuckling and hugging you tighter as he lets out a prolonged squeal, commenting on how adorable you are to him.

Renjun pulls you away momentarily, swooping in for his lips to meet yours, calmly and sweetly, caring and patient. It flows through his gesture and he’s glad you know how much he loves you with the way the corners of your lips could reach your ears.

“Besides,” he starts between the medley of pecks on your face, “why are you shopping for clothes when you're always stealing mine?”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet

[extra-v1rgin]

Love languages - Rengoku, Tomioka, Uzui, Iguro, Shinobu, & Mitsuri

wanted to write something quick because my current projects won’t be done for awhile and I feel bad about not posting ;-; Also love languages aren’t real but shhhhh it’s ok

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Rengoku:

Giving - Words of Affirmation

He’s not very smooth with words but as one might expect from Rengoku he is very enthusiastic. Mostly it’s simple things, saying “I love you!” or “You look so pretty!” If you ask him to elaborate he will but the man gets very flustered.

Receiving - Physical Touch

I think Rengoku likes very gentle touches. He’s “on” 99% of the time and has a lot of trouble relaxing but if you trace his face or run your fingers through his hair then he can melt into your touch. He likes recieving physical affection at any time but it’s most relaxing for him if you set aside time where he has to be quiet and doesn’t have anything weighing on his mind.

Tomioka:

Giving - Gifts

Giyuu doesn’t see himself as someone with very much worth so offering up himself in any way doesn’t feel like he’s actually giving you something (even if you insist otherwise). If he gives you physical items then it’s something concrete and seen as valuable by others too. They’re very heartfelt though. It’s not pointless trinkets it’s something you can use often.

Receiving - Quality Time

On the flipside Tomioka sees you as someone with a lot of value. He’s happy with physical touch or talking too but he’s not always good at deciphering what things might mean if you’re not direct. It’s not that he’s happier when you’re quiet but if things are quiet then he doesn’t have to work to figure anything out.

Uzui:

Giving - Acts of Service

Sort of a double-sided thing for Uzui. Mostly it’s out of love for you/his wives but he does enjoy the praise he gets for it as well. Part of the reason he likes getting the praise though is because he knows that means you appreciated it (And so on and so forth). It’s something about providing for his lovers that makes the man feel good.

Receiving - Gifts

Is that a surprise? He loves getting gifts. They gotta be big and flashy but other than that he doesn’t care about the price or if you just picked it up randomly. Not to say he doesn’t like heartfelt gifts, but just that he likes anything that made you think about him.

Iguro:

Giving - Gifts

Just like Tomioka he doesn’t see himself as someone of value, so again anything that comes from him looses value because of that. He’s much more meticulous than Giyuu though. Giyuu buys anything that makes him think of you whereas Obanai spends weeks looking at different shops for the perfect item. You mention your shoes are wearing out? He will buy you the most expensive most durable pair to ever be made and they will fit you absolutely perfectly.

Receiving - Gifts

Oddly enough he also enjoys getting gifts. It’s a sign that you were also thinking about him. But while he likes buying you things Iguro enjoys getting handmade or smaller scale things from you.

Shinobu:

Giving - Quality Time

Shinobu is a busy woman so she sometimes struggles to make time for her partner. At the same time trying to fill that gap with gifts or little notes doesn’t feel the same. She has to find time to probably sit down with you and cuddle or talk.

Receiving - Acts of Service

As mentioned she’s very busy, so if you do anything to help lighten her load then she feels a weight off her chest. Even if it’s something small like making the bed or cleaning her desk she feels so relieved. Depending on your skills you may help out with medical things too. These moments are especially nice for her because Shinobu also considers you helping her wrap bandages as quality time.

Mitsuri:

Giving - Physical Touch

No surprises here either. She loves squishing you, hugging you, cuddling. If she could pick you up and carry you forever she would. Even if you weren’t big on touch I think she’d be just as happy to curl up against your side barely touching you. She also enjoys doing your hair or having you do hers.

Receiving - Words of Affirmation

Mitsuri has become a lot more confident in herself but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like hearing kind words, especially in moments of weakness. She trusts you a lot so if you say she’s beautiful then Kanroji will very much believe you. Whether you’re complimenting her appearance or her cooking or her fighting skills she gets so excited. If something particilarly catches off guard then you should expect a lot more hugging alongside a dozen thank you’s.

[brains4brawn]

Journalled

It was a small thing, tucked away in the corner of the thrift shop. Victor had pulled it out, but the book was locked and bound in gold and wouldn't open. His mind piqued, Victor bought the book and took it home. Over the next week He tried everything to undo the clasp but nothing worked. When he had just lost hope a tiny but audible Click could be heard, Victor rushed back to find the clasp undone and the bindings slightly ajar.

Victor carefully opened the ancient tome only to find that the pages were stuck. it was like they had been glued! Only the last page remained free. Written towards the top if fancy handwriting

"Write it down so i can enact Be-warned Though, What is written I can not retract!"

Under neath that was 5 evenly spaced lines. and another message at the bottom,

"I only remain open for this 1 day Until 5 complete Earth circle's will I open again"

Looking at the the 3 blank lines, And thinking this must be a joke he wrote

I will graduate from college

My older brother will never pick on me again

Over the next 20 years I will gain 150lbs

As Victor finished the book slammed shut and relocked itself. Scared Victor threw the book into his closet and ran down stairs.

That night his family recieved word that Victor's older brother was in a bad car crash. He was alive but in the ICU and had lost his legs. Certainly the taller brother would never pick on the shorter Victor again.

The crash had been the fault of the manufacturer so the family received and huge settlement. This money paid for Victor's choice of college.

Two years later, when Victor was home from college for the summer and his mother commented that he was finally starting to get bigger.

The 20 Year old checked the scale and sure enough he weighed 140, 15lbs heaver then when he was 18. Victor knew it had to be the book.

Victor: 22, 155lbs

The College graduate was now 23 and moving all of his stuff from his half of the bedroom to his first apartment when he stumbled across the book. Looking at the date on the wall Victor realized it was exactly 5 years since he had last seen the cursed object. As if it had a mind of its own the book opened to the last page, now with three new empty lines waiting to be filled.

Victor hesitated, he had imagined for the last 5 years what he'd do if he had this chance again. He could fix everything!

My older brother James develops a prosthesis so he can walk and run again.

My younger sisters will grow into smart talented women who will want for nothing.

Looking at his tiny 15 year old brother Bastion asleep on the bed Victor writes:

Bastion will grow up to be the popular jock just like his older brother.

Satisfied, the book shuts itself and prepares to grant Victor's wish.

Victor 24, 170lbs

For the most part the Wishes went like Victor planned. Well except for Bastion's. In the proceeding months after writing those words Victor found himself becoming more popular and Jock-like. Words like Bro or Bruh, dude, man, had taken over. He joined a gym and from there joined some local sports teams. When he wasn't busy at work or working out Victor could be found screwing every chick he could find. No girl was immune to his baby faced charms and his Gym sculpted body.

Victor 26 185lbs

Victor 28 200lbs

Victor practically lives in the Gym now. His gains speak for themselves his body is a temple and he loves for chicks to worship him. His younger sisters call him a man whore, while Bastion is turning out just like him.

His girlfriend of 6 months broke up with him cause she caught him in bed with her mother.

Looking in his closet he stumbles over the Book, open and waiting for him to write something down.

In his jealousy of those gay guys who can sleep with anyone he wrote:

I'm like 100% gay, no chicks only dicks.

I wont get any STD's from sex.

Sex with me will change anyone's life.

Again the book closes and gets to work.

Victor 30, 215lbs

Vic the dick had been out for 2 years now, the book took the man whore and turned him into a man slut. Everyone wanted a piece of him and at least Vic was smart enough to charge them for his services. Every option on the table is open he'd do any guy and make them feel like his number1. Every guy he slept with changed, most upped their stamina but some hunked out into gay sluts just like Vic.

Hell even Bastion had come out and if the rumors are true he's slept with every guy at his college.

Vic 32 230lbs

Vic was becoming something of a local celebrity in the gay community. His looks had caught the eye of a movie producer and now he was staring in low budget action movies as the gay savior. He had been so busy that he wasn't home for his 33rd birthday. Some how the book found him on location in the bottom of his travel bag.

Vic watched as it opened up to the last page with 3 empty spaces.

He took his time and pondered over what he should write.

I want to find true love

I want to be content

I want to be smart again

The book seemed to close with a sigh. None of these were worth the trouble of granting. But a deal is a deal.

Vic 34, 245lbs

Vic, 38, 275lbs

Finally after 20 years, Vic had stopped growing. Life had settled down for the Gay icon, nowadays, he owned a successful chain of LGBTQIA Gyms that catered towards the community needs. He organized Pride events and helped with protests when needed. He looked at the open book on his desk. It was tempting but Vic no longer wanted to change anything about his life. Even though he had never found a lifelong partner.

He decided he had held on to the magic for to long, so he summoned his newest intern Jack and gave the book to him then let him leave so he could explore this newest acquisition.

*bright flash of Light*

The intercom beeps and Vic pushes the button.

"Sir your husband just arrived to collect you. He wants to remind you that you still have to pick up the kids and get changed for tonights ceremony"

Before he could even answer the door burst open and Vic's husband of 7 years strolled in. Vic was already out of his chair and giving Jack a pec on the cheek while grabbing his toned ass.

On his way out Vic glanced at the family photo on his desk and gave a silent thanks to the book.

[levisolace]

[8] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 8: New Perspective

WC: 8,434 Chapter Warnings: none Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: unedited lol

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

The morning air bites at your fingers as you clutch two steaming cups outside the coffee shop, their warmth the only buffer against the chill creeping up your spine. You hadn’t expected your nerves to be this frayed, but standing here, a cup of tea and coffee in hand, you feel oddly exposed. It’s a simple gesture, a peace offering at best—but when it comes to Levi, every step feels like it’s weighed down with history.

Steeling yourself, you inhale, letting the brisk air fill your lungs and remind you why you’re here. Your mind replays the argument from his apartment, the tension that’s lingered for days, and the faint glimmer of hope you’ve felt since. 

“It’s just tea,” you whisper to yourself, as if saying it aloud will lessen the stakes.

You walk into the towering building of Stohess Stone Group, hot cups in hand, only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight before you. You’d heard whispers of Levi’s success in passing, fragments of conversation that hadn’t fully registered until now. But standing here, you can feel the sheer presence of it—a sleek, multi-story glass facade, bustling with employees, each corner immaculate and efficient, embodying Levi’s uncompromising standards.

You feel small, oddly out of place, your surprise quickly turning to something closer to awe as you take in the surroundings. Seven years had passed since you’d been here, seven years in which you’d barely had a glimpse into this part of his life. And in that time, he’d built… all of this?

As you make your way inside the building, everything feels slightly surreal. Levi’s name is displayed discreetly on polished silver plaques, his signature attention to detail evident in every corner. The sheer scope of the operation is far beyond what you’d imagined; what once started as a single family restaurant had grown into a full-scale food empire.

The receiving lobby was busy and the receptionist gazed at you head to toe when you told her that you’re here for Levi Ackerman. After making a quick call, she gives you a card pass and tells you the floor to head to. 

Arriving at his office lobby, you’re greeted with his wide-eyed assistant, Connie, who casts a curious glance at the two cups in your hands but says nothing. 

“Oh! Miss? You’re here for Sir Levi?” He asks, ever so cheerful. 

“Yeah. I’ll just give him this. Or if he’s busy I can just drop them off here,” I tell him. 

He types for a second at his computer before glancing at you. “He’s currently on a call. But I notified him that you’re here. You can sit there, ma’am,” he gestures at the couch just beside the door labeled with Levi’s name and his position.

Levi Ackerman 

Chief of Executive Officer  

Thanking Connie, you settled into a seat in the lobby, you noticed the sterile, minimalist decor—the kind Levi would approve of. Every second of waiting feels like it’s adding weight to your chest, thoughts rushing through your mind in a blur. Should you apologize? Should you just leave it at “I wanted to check on you”? Your fingers tighten around the cups as if that warmth might ground you.

Then you hear his voice, low and clipped, coming from around the corner. Levi is leaning on his office door, staring directly at you, sharp in his suit, lighting up the room with an overpowering aura. His eyes glanced down at the cups you’re holding and his brow raises with amused eyes before settling into a guarded, wary expression. You offer a tentative smile, willing yourself to speak through the awkward tension thickening in the room.

“Come in,” he tells you and disappears into his office. 

You follow him inside awkwardly, glancing at Connie who gives you two thumbs up. You smile at him before the door closes, happy at the support of the stranger you’ve only met twice. 

“I figured you’d need something warm on a day like this.” Your voice is softer than you intended, but you hold out one of the cups to him, hoping the simplicity of the gesture might soften whatever invisible wall stands between you. He was already sitting on his desk, staring at the cup in your hand.

Levi’s eyes linger on you, unreadable as ever. He accepts the cup, fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment, and you feel a surge of warmth that has little to do with the coffee. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, but there’s a tightness in his tone, an edge you can’t quite decipher. He doesn’t immediately take a sip, instead setting the cup on his desk as if distancing himself from the gesture, from you.

You watch him carefully, uncertain if you’ve crossed a line. The silence is heavy, stretching between you as he seems to consider you with a mix of suspicion and something softer that he quickly buries. He clears his throat, glancing away as if the wall clock has suddenly become very interesting. “So, what’s all this for?”

Your heart hammers, words tangled on your tongue. You’re tempted to back out, brush it off with a casual excuse, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I wanted to… to check on you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Levi’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, his expression hardens. But he’s listening, his eyes searching your face as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. It’s enough encouragement for you to continue.

“I know I didn’t handle things right before. I know it was… abrupt,” you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. “But I really am serious about making it up to you.”

For a beat, Levi doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the cup of tea, fingers tracing the lid absently. When he finally looks up, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—frustration, maybe, or a weariness he doesn’t often show. He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Guess we’ll see.”

It’s not the warm acceptance you’d secretly hoped for, but it’s something. You glance at your wrist watch. The law firm was just a few blocks away from Levi’s building so twenty minutes was more than enough time for you to walk to work. You’ve woken up a little earlier today just to do this small gesture.

“I have to go to work, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell him, clutching your bag as you edge toward the door.

Levi’s brow lifts slightly, his arms folding across his chest. “Tomorrow?”

You nod, feeling a strange sort of nervousness you can’t quite place. “Yes… if you like this tea. Or I could get you a different one if you’d like,” you add, holding up the cup you’d just placed on his desk—a blend you’d picked out specifically, thinking it’d suit him.

He glances down at the steaming cup, an eyebrow still arched, and then looks back at you. His expression softens, a small, almost invisible curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. 

For a moment, you stand there, unsure if your eyes were deceiving you, but Levi’s quiet gaze makes it hard to find the truth. 

“I’ll… let you get to your day,” you say, breaking the silence, a bit too quickly. You turn to leave, feeling the warmth from his hand linger on your fingers as you make your way to the door.

“Hey,” his voice stops you right before you exit. 

He eyes the computer screen in front of him, then glances back at you, his gaze level. “If you’re set on getting me something, there's another cafe on this street called Wall Rose Cafe. Their tea doesn’t taste like dishwater.”

Your face warms slightly at his blunt response, though you should’ve expected it. Levi’s honesty was always straightforward, rarely softened by pleasantries.

“Oh,” you say, giving a small nod as you try to cover your surprise. “Well, noted.” You clear your throat, forcing a smile as you add, “I’ll be sure to check it out tomorrow.”

“Good,” he says simply, picking up the cup and taking a sip. “If you’re bringing me tea, might as well make it decent.”

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a bit braver. “You’re picky, you know that?”

He gives a noncommittal shrug, though a slight quirk of his mouth betrays his amusement. “And you’re late for work.”

“Right.” You take a step back, suddenly aware of the clock ticking away, but still oddly reluctant to leave. “I’ll… see you tomorrow, then. With better tea.”

“Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, his gaze following you as you head out, tone bored but with the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes.

As you step outside the office, Connie is already looking at you with expectant eyes and gazing down at the cup in your hand. He looks satisfied and even relieved when he sees you’re only holding one cup. 

Oh God, Levi must really hate that cafe.

He doesn’t confirm your suspicion. Instead, Connie gives you a big smile and bids you goodbye. “Have a great day, ma’am,” 

“You too, Connie,” I greeted him back before completely heading out. 

You have a big smile on your face as you stroll down the streets of Paradis. Despite the wrong choice of establishment to get Levi’s tea, you would say that it was a mission success, for three reasons. 

First, he accepted you into his office. Second, you saw him drink the dishwasher tea. Third, he had let you bring him another one tomorrow. 

That’s one small step… and another penny for the progress jar.

The next question is, what do you do next?

It was late in the afternoon when you heard a light knock on your office door, pulling you from the pile of paperwork you’d been tackling all day. The coffee from this morning has grown cold and so has your day been. While working, your mind drifts on other ways to prove yourself to Levi. You’ll be giving him his morning tea… but what else? 

Looking up, you found Pixis standing in the doorway, his familiar, calm gaze softened with a touch of concern. He strolled in without waiting for permission, hands clasped behind his back, surveying your desk with a smile that made you feel like he already knew what you’d been dealing with.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “Thought I’d stop by for absolutely no reason at all.”

You returned his smile, gesturing to the small stack of briefs in front of you. “As you can see, just… drowning in case files. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Pixis chuckled, though there was a glint of sincerity in his gaze that didn’t quite match his lighthearted tone. “I know you’re fine here, that’s not what I’m here for.” He paused, as though choosing his words carefully. “Vanessa’s still convinced you’re handling more than you should. Said you’ve always been good at that.”

You let out a small laugh, though you felt the weight of his concern pressing down on you. “I appreciate it, but you know Vanessa—she tends to worry. Really, Pixis, I’m fine.”

“Well, if there’s anything you need…” His voice softened as he left the offer open, leaving room for you to step into it if you wanted to.

You hesitated, staring at the papers on your desk as you gathered the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for days. 

“Actually, there is… one thing.”

You met his eyes, feeling a bit exposed but determined to get it out. “It’s something personal. Is that okay?”

Pixis raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to continue. “Ask away.”

You fiddled with the corner of the paper you were holding as you continued. “How do I make it up to a person I owe?” You tried to keep your tone casual, but you could hear the vulnerability creeping into your own voice. 

Pixis considered you thoughtfully, nodding slowly. “Ah. Now that’s a question,” he said, taking a seat across from you. “Depends, I suppose, on what exactly it is you’re trying to make up for.”

You glanced away, unsure how much to reveal. “It’s… not something simple. More like… time lost, chances missed.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, the weight of past decisions pressing down on your shoulders.

Pixis let out a low hum of understanding, his gaze distant for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Pixis leaned forward, his expression shifting from gentle mentor to shrewd lawyer, eyes sharper, tone more precise.

“Making it up to someone,” he began, voice thoughtful but firm, “is about evidence and consistency. Think of it like building a case. You don’t try to convince the jury all at once; you provide proof over time. Show that your intentions aren’t fleeting.”

You tilted your head, a bit taken aback at the analogy but intrigued. “So… I need to build my credibility with them?”

“Precisely. And remember,” Pixis continued, “people are not obligated to accept your ‘proof’ right away. Sometimes they’ll poke holes in it, question your motives, or, frankly, disregard the effort entirely. That doesn’t mean it’s for nothing. If you’re serious, you keep building—make sure each gesture is as strong as the last.”

He watched you closely, reading your expression like he might in the courtroom. “When they’re ready, they’ll come to their own conclusions. You can’t control that. All you can do is control your commitment to making things right, piece by piece.”

You nodded slowly, his words grounding something inside you. “So, stay consistent. Show I’m serious, and don’t expect instant forgiveness?”

“Exactly,” Pixis replied, a small but encouraging smile on his face. “If you’re honest in your approach, it will speak for itself.”

You let his words sink in, nodding. “I just… don’t know if they’d even want me to try. I’ve already tried to reach out, but it feels like everything I do just makes things more complicated.”

Pixis leaned back, crossing his arms with a gentle smile. “People aren’t always ready to receive an apology or even an olive branch. But that doesn’t mean they never will be. Sometimes, the act of trying is enough, for now. Keep trying—but for them, not for yourself.”

“One more thing,” he added, his tone a shade more serious. “Before you start this… ‘making it up’ campaign, you need to be clear on what you’re apologizing for. Think about it like a prosecutor building a case. They don’t bring charges without fully understanding the offense.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “So… identify my ‘faults’ first?”

“Precisely,” he said, nodding. “A good prosecutor considers the perspective of the other party, the context, and how the situation affected them. If you can’t see that, your efforts might come across as shallow or self-serving. It’s not just about saying ‘sorry’—it’s about knowing what you’re sorry for and owning it.”

He paused, looking at you intently. “Approach it with that kind of clarity, and it’ll carry more weight. You can’t rebuild trust if you don’t understand where it broke.”

A weight settled over you as his words sank in, each point resonating. “That makes sense. So… I need to look at this like a case. Understand what happened, own my part, and then work on mending things.”

“Exactly,” Pixis replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “Trust comes from transparency and understanding. You’re a lawyer—you know this. Just… apply it there.”

You felt an unexpected sense of relief in his words, as though he’d managed to simplify the knots you’d been tying yourself into. “Thank you,” you murmured, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Pixis gave you a gentle nod, his voice warm. “And if there’s ever anything else weighing on you, I’m here for that too.” 

Pixis leaves after a few more words about work and you resume your responsibilities with a different weight filling your chest, this time accompanied by nerves. 

You know exactly what to do next. 

You arrive at the dimly lit bar after a long day, the sounds of quiet chatter and clinking glasses grounding you as you scan the room for Erwin. When you spot him in the back corner, he raises a hand, his familiar calm presence making you feel both comforted and nervous.

As you settle into the seat across from him, he offers a warm smile. “It’s good to see you,” he says, nodding at the drink he ordered for you, which sits untouched in front of you. “It’s been a while.”

You return the smile, grateful for the ease he brings. “It really has. How’ve you been, Erwin? Work still as relentless as ever?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Relentless is an understatement. But I can’t complain. Keeps me sharp.” You exchange small talk for a while—about his cases, mutual friends, the ever-changing city. 

“How is the underground? Are you still certain about not accepting my offer to relocate you?” He asks.

I nod, a gentle smile. “I’m sure, Erwin.” 

It’s easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm with Erwin, but there’s a lingering tension in the air, the weight of your true purpose hanging between you both.

After a while, Erwin’s gaze sharpens slightly. “I appreciate the catch-up, truly, but something tells me there’s more to this meeting than a stroll down memory lane.” His tone is gentle, but his piercing gaze reminds you of why he’s respected in the courtroom. “So, tell me… What brings you here tonight?”

You take a deep breath, your fingers gripping the glass in front of you. Meeting Erwin’s steady gaze, you feel the weight of what you’re about to ask settle in your chest.

“I need to know,” you say, voice quieter than you intended but filled with resolve. “I need to know what happened to Levi after I left.”

Erwin’s gaze softens as he takes in your words, though his expression remains unreadable. He shifts slightly, and there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the kind you rarely see from him. He taps a finger against his glass thoughtfully, then leans back, weighing his next words.

“Honestly, Greenie…” he begins, letting out a breath, “I’m not sure I should be telling you this. I think you know that, too.”

You lower your gaze, guilt pooling in your stomach. “I know,” you admit quietly. “I know I don’t deserve to know but…” You look back up at him, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Please, Erwin.”

He studies you for a long moment, his expression softening, as if he knows something you’re hiding. Erwin was a good read of personality. It’s one of the things you’ve always admired about him. There’s always something hidden behind his gaze and one will never know what he’s truly thinking. If you weren’t his friend, you’ll be terrified of him.

Finally, he sighs, resting his hand on the table, his tone gentle yet cautious. “Alright,” he says, nodding slowly. “I’ll tell you.” 

It was a cold evening in Paradis, one of those early autumn nights where the air held the scent of fallen leaves and the city lights glimmered against the fading sun. Erwin stood with Levi on a quiet street corner, looking up at the windows of the last apartment they had been directed to, hoping this might be the one. They had asked every mutual friend they could find, visited addresses she once mentioned, and had even gone to the edge of nearby towns, clutching at any hint of where you might have gone. But each lead had led to nothing—an empty apartment, a vague rumor, a number no longer in service. 

Levi looked down at the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders drawn tight. Erwin glanced over, noting the lines of fatigue that had settled beneath Levi’s eyes, darker and more pronounced than ever before. They’d been searching for weeks, occasionally with Hange, staying out late after their newfound work, making up excuses to leave early in hopes of catching another lead. Each dead end only seemed to make Levi grow more closed-off.

“Maybe she’s just… done with us,” Levi muttered, almost as if he was saying it more to himself than to Erwin. “She could’ve contacted us if she wanted to.”

Erwin crossed his arms, frowning slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe she doesn’t know how to. You know her better than anyone—she doesn’t run unless she feels she has to.”

Levi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he kicked a loose stone on the ground, watching it skitter across the street. 

“If she didn’t want to be found, we wouldn’t find her,” he said finally, his voice brittle, stripped of hope. “And I’m not forcing myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there.”

Erwin nodded, though he felt a deep sense of disappointment settle within him. He had been the one encouraging Levi to keep searching, to wait a little longer, but even his optimism had worn thin. He could see that Levi was nearing the end of his patience, hurt turning to frustration. There’s only so much three young people can do without much connection and power.

They walked in silence for a while, neither of them willing to voice the truth that had settled between them—that this was the end of their search. In his mind, Erwin tried to picture how different things might have been if they had found you, if they’d had a chance to understand why you left so suddenly, why there hadn’t been a single goodbye. But, as the night grew colder and the city quieted, that vision faded into the shadows of the past.

Levi stopped at the edge of the street, glancing back one last time at the distant apartment building. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “If she ever comes back… she’ll know where to find me.”

With that, he turned, and Erwin followed in silence. Neither of them spoke the rest of the way, each lost in their own thoughts, coming to terms with the absence of someone they had both held close.

“He still hasn’t come out.” 

Kuchel’s worry is evident in her face as she lets Erwin and Hange inside their home. 

It was late in the evening when Erwin and Hange arrived at Levi’s home, after receiving an unexpected message from Kuchel, who explained that Levi had been “lost” for weeks, having quit his corporate job, barely leaving his room except for essentials like bathing and eating, barely that is. She’d sounded concerned, her words tight with worry, so Erwin and Hange didn’t waste a moment before coming over.

Hange rapped on Levi’s door enthusiastically, shooting Erwin a look of encouragement as she called out, “Levi! You better let us in, or I’m picking the lock.”

There was a pause before slow footsteps approached, and the door creaked open just enough for Levi to look at them, his expression unreadable but clearly worn. 

His dark hair was tousled, shadows under his eyes, and his clothes had a look of having been slept in. Without a word, he stepped aside to let them in.

The apartment was dim, the curtains drawn, casting the room in muted gray light. His room is as clean as ever. In fact, it was so clean that it looked like all he’s been doing is cleaning. 

“Looks like you’ve been keeping busy,” Hange said, trying for levity, though her voice softened when she saw the state of him.

Levi shrugged, sinking into the couch and rubbing his temples. “Stop being dramatic,” he muttered, glancing away. “Ma’s worried for nothing. I just don’t see the point in doing corporate work that means nothing.”

Erwin watched him, leaning against the wall. He understood Levi’s frustration all too well; the feeling of potential without a purpose was a burden. But seeing Levi so defeated, so unlike the determined, resolute person he’d always known, stirred something protective in him. 

“Then maybe it’s time to find something that does matter to you,” Erwin suggested gently. “You’re not the type to sit still. There’s plenty out there you could do—ways to build something meaningful.”

Levi’s jaw clenched. “Like what?” he challenged, though the sharpness in his tone was more about his own frustrations than any real anger toward them. “People like me… we don’t exactly have places lined up for us.”

People like me… 

Erwin wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. Levi was always a neutral person. He was never blatantly insecure or unmotivated. He was an achiever without much purpose but that didn’t mean what he was doing was pointless. He’s always done good—what was right and responsible. And yet after college, it seemed like Levi lost his way. He doesn’t know entirely but he has a slight idea why. 

Hange, ever the optimist, jumped in, sitting beside him. “Don’t be like that, Levi! You’ve always had a knack for seeing potential in things no one else notices. All those places we used to hang out in? You were the one who found them, the one who convinced us there was something worthwhile in the quiet streets of Paradis.”

Levi looked at her, as if trying to gauge if she was being serious. Erwin nodded, backing her up. “Maybe you don’t need someone else’s vision or corporate ladder. Maybe it’s time to work toward something you care about.”

Levi’s gaze fell to the ground, a flicker of something thoughtful passing over his face. The weight of Erwin’s words seemed to settle on him, cracking the shell of apathy he’d built around himself. He stayed silent, the three of them falling into a comfortable quiet.

After a while, Hange leaned back, giving him a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “We’re here for you, you know? Whatever you decide.”

Finally, Levi looked up, giving a faint nod, and Erwin felt a small spark of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And sometimes, all you needed was the right kind of nudge to help you see things in a new way.

“It just feels…” he stares at nothing in particular. “I just feel like doing nothing for a while.”

Erwin and Hange look at each other, a glance that casts worry for their friend. 

It was Erwin that spoke first. “That’s fine too.”

“But take care of yourself,” Hange scolds. “Have you been eating at all? Look at yourself. You know what? I’ll bring you cake tomorrow. One of my co-researchers…”

Whatever Hange was babbling about, Erwin can see that Levi has already tuned out. He’s lost in his thoughts, staring at an empty spot on his desk. Erwin knew it all too well. It was your spot whenever the four of you would hang in his room. You were always there, doodling away while contributing your thoughts on whatever conversation you would have. You would even leave sticky notes on his computer monitor. 

Despite not mentioning your name for a while now, Erwin knows how much you still affected him. 

Erwin had just stepped out of the cab when he spotted Levi in an unexpected scene. Instead of finding him waiting tables or clearing dishes inside the restaurant, he was outside, standing on a ladder in front of a neighboring restaurant. With practiced, unhurried movements, Levi was adjusting an old, flickering light above the restaurant’s front sign, his face set in concentration.

Curious, Erwin watched as Levi tightened a screw, testing the sign’s stability before he climbed down, wiping his hands on a rag. He exchanged a few words with the owner, who was standing by, clearly grateful and a little awestruck. Levi, for his part, barely acknowledged the thanks, nodding curtly and giving the sign one last look.

Erwin approached just as Levi stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Helping out the neighborhood now?” Erwin asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Levi looked over his shoulder, surprised but unruffled. “Didn’t expect you to see this,” he muttered, folding his arms. But despite his gruff tone, there was a quiet pride in his gaze as he looked back at the small restaurant with its newly lit sign.

“People going in have been slow lately. Figured if every place on this street started looking decent, the whole block might benefit,” Levi explained, almost as if defending himself. “No one comes to just one restaurant. But if the whole street looks appetizing…” He let the thought hang, shrugging.

Erwin chuckled, impressed. “So, you’re turning this into your project.”

Levi’s lips twitched, a faint smile forming. “I’m not working corporate, am I?” he said dryly. “Might as well put in work where it actually matters. I help them out, they help each other. A good street can make a good city.”

Erwin was silent for a moment, realizing the scope of Levi’s quiet vision. It wasn’t just about Kuchel’s restaurant or his own pride—it was about building something lasting for others. And, perhaps, it was his own way of finding purpose again.

He clapped a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “You’ve got something good here, Levi,” he said sincerely. “Don’t stop.”

Levi glanced at Erwin, the faint smile still lingering. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Have you been sleeping?” Erwin asked. 

He gives Erwin a look that answers the question without words. Erwin sighs. Levi hasn’t looked like he slept a wink for a year now. He always had a bit of insomnia during college but he hasn’t seen Levi look this bad. 

For the next few months, Erwin watched as the transformation took hold slowly but surely. At first, it was just a handful of minor changes—new signs, updated menus, a fresh coat of paint here and there. 

Levi, in his own understated way, had approached some of the marketing majors they knew from college, enlisting their expertise on layout, color schemes, and branding. The little adjustments began to ripple through the street, breathing life into what had once been a quiet, almost forgotten corner of Paradis.

By the end of the first year, a buzz had started building around Stohess Street. More foot traffic poured in each night, drawn by the inviting glow of revamped signs and the aroma of dishes that hinted at something special. 

The neighboring restaurant owners, some of whom had barely spoken to each other before, began to work together, their offerings complementing one another to create a destination rather than just a collection of eateries. Levi had somehow managed to unite them with a shared vision, each business supporting the others to make the entire street shine.

Two years in, Erwin found himself standing at the heart of what had become a bustling night-life and food hub, a far cry from the quiet, almost deserted block it had once been. Strings of lights crisscrossed the alleyways, live music spilled from corners, and patrons filled every available seat along the street. Stohess had transformed into a staple for locals and visitors alike.

Erwin spotted Levi moving through the crowd, his usual stoic expression softened by the faintest hint of satisfaction as he checked in on a few of the restaurant owners. There was no outward display of pride or excitement—just Levi, content to remain in the background, watching the street flourish.

As Erwin approached, Levi gave him a nod. “Didn’t expect all this to work out, did you?” he said, a glimmer of smugness barely noticeable in his tone.

Erwin chuckled, shaking his head. “You always did surprise us, Levi. Look at what you’ve built.” He gestured around, the bustling scene speaking for itself.

Levi looked down the lively street, a rare, small smile crossing his face. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” he admitted. 

And in that moment, Erwin realized Levi had found something he’d been missing for a long time—a purpose, a vision, and, most importantly, a place he could call his own. 

As Levi and Erwin stood at the edge of Stohess Street, the glow of the lights illuminating their quiet corner, a sleek car pulled up alongside them. 

They both turned, watching as the door opened and a woman stepped out. For a fleeting moment, both of them stiffened, their hearts catching in their chests. She moved with a familiar confidence, the way she tilted her head and surveyed the bustling street bringing back memories that neither of them had fully laid to rest.

But then, under the streetlights, her features came into full view. She wasn’t you.

Levi’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his gaze hardening as he realized the truth. Erwin saw his friend’s face shift, the initial spark of something—hope, maybe?—vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. Levi looked away, as if disappointed in himself for even thinking, for a split second, that it could have been you.

They both fell silent, a heaviness settling between them. They didn’t talk about you, didn’t dare bring up the memories or the ache that lingered despite the years that had passed. Levi crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on some distant point down the street, his jaw clenched. Erwin knew that look, the one that masked more than Levi would ever let on. It was the look of a man trying to keep something buried.

The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and bustling conversation filled the air around them. Yet Levi stood still, somehow detached from the lively scene he’d helped create. Erwin saw it clearly now—the street had grown, blossomed into something remarkable, but the empty place in Levi’s life had yet to be filled.

Erwin placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder, just for a moment, a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. Levi didn’t acknowledge it, but Erwin could feel the tension under his friend’s rigid stance, the weight of memories he carried with him daily.

They turned back to the street, side by side, as the night wore on. And in the midst of all Levi had built, Erwin saw the truth: you still lingered, a quiet presence in Levi’s life that even success couldn’t erase.

The dim light of the bar feels almost comforting as you lean back in your seat, weighing Erwin’s words. It feels like he’s letting you hold a mirror up to your actions, confronting the damage you once convinced yourself was necessary.

Taking a deep breath, you finally say, “I don’t think I ever understood what Levi needed. At that time, I thought… I thought walking away was the kindest thing I could do.” You grip your glass tightly, afraid to meet Erwin’s gaze. “I was selfish, thinking I was sparing him, sparing us both.”

Erwin’s voice is soft but firm. “It’s not uncommon to think that leaving will cause less pain in the long run. But Levi doesn’t think that way. He values the people in his life who stay and fight. You were one of those people, until the day you weren’t.”

You wince, the words stinging more than you expected. “I was scared, Erwin,” you admit. “Scared that if I stayed, I’d be holding him back… dragging him into something he didn’t ask for. He deserved better than what I could give him at the time.”

Erwin’s blue eyes narrow, studying you. “Did he ever tell you that? That you were holding him back?”

You shake your head. “No. But I felt it. The things I was struggling with… I knew he couldn’t fix them. And I thought if I left, he’d be able to thrive. Be better without me.”

Erwin sighs, a bit of frustration flickering across his face. “Levi isn’t the kind of man who would let something like that stop him. You were part of his life by choice, and if there were struggles, he’d have faced them with you. But when you left without an explanation, you made the choice for him, and he had to live with that silence.”

The truth of his words hangs heavy between you, and your shoulders slump under the weight. “Maybe… I just didn’t want to face the possibility that he’d choose me, even knowing how broken I was.”

Erwin leans forward, his eyes softening. “Sometimes we run from the things we’re afraid to confront in ourselves, thinking it will protect others. But Levi never wanted perfect. He wanted real, no matter how flawed.”

Silence settles over you both for a moment. You take a long, steadying breath, then look up at him, finally finding the courage to ask, “Erwin, were you… were you ever angry with me for what I did?”

Erwin regards you thoughtfully, folding his hands on the table. “I won’t lie. At first, I was angry. Not because you left, but because of the way it all happened. Levi… he doesn’t let many people in. So when someone does get in, they mean everything. And when you disappeared without a word, it left a wound I didn’t know if he’d ever heal from.”

You wince, a pang of guilt tightening in your chest. “I never wanted him to feel like that. I thought he’d move on faster, that he’d be better off…”

“He’s not the type to move on from people so easily,” Erwin says quietly. “Even now, years later, I don’t think he has. He might seem distant and cold sometimes, but he feels everything deeply. He just doesn’t show it to the world.”

You feel a lump in your throat. “Do you think he still hates me for what I did?”

Erwin shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think he hates you. Resentment, sure. But hate? No. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have been searching for you for so long after you left.”

The revelation hits you hard, making you swallow back the sudden surge of emotion. You remember those days, how desperately you wanted to reach out, but you convinced yourself it was better not to. Besides, you literally had no time to do so.

“I… I had no idea,” you murmur, guilt gnawing at you.

Erwin gives you a sympathetic look. “Levi doesn’t talk about it. Even now, he doesn’t bring it up. I think he’s tried to bury it, but with you back in town, it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten. And he’s not the only one.”

You hold your breath, searching Erwin’s face for a glimmer of understanding. “You mean… you?”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t think I was as affected as Levi, but you were our friend too. And friends don’t just vanish like that without leaving something behind. It made me feel… powerless. It was hard, not knowing why you left, not knowing if it was something we did or… if you were okay.”

The gravity of what you left behind settles over you, and the shame feels heavier than ever. The Erwin you knew was always confident with himself. He knows the solution to every problem. He was that guy who people would come to if they ever needed any help. But when you left, he probably felt helpless that he couldn’t find you.

 “I’m sorry, Erwin. I really am. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I know now I hurt you too.”

Erwin places a hand on your shoulder, a small, reassuring smile on his face. “We all make choices we think are right in the moment. And I can see you’re trying to make things right now. Just remember… with Levi, you can’t gloss over anything. If you really want to make amends, you’ll need to confront the truth, however difficult.”

You nod, letting his words sink in. “I understand.”

Erwin’s gaze is steady, full of the calm wisdom he’s always had. “Then maybe it’s time to stop running and start facing things. And know that whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”

A faint sense of relief washes over you. For the first time in years, you feel like you’re not running from the shadows of the past. You’re facing them, with friends who understand, and a chance—no matter how uncertain—to finally make amends.

Erwin takes a deep breath, his gaze distant, as if recalling something heavy he’s held back for too long. He studies you for a moment, the weight of his expression unreadable, before finally breaking the silence.

“There’s something you should know,” he says, his voice low and careful. “I didn’t mention it because… well, Levi would never bring it up and it still pains me to remember that night. But if you insist to know what he truly went through, then you should know this.”

Your pulse quickens, dread pooling in your stomach as you lean forward, bracing yourself for what’s coming.

Erwin’s eyes meet yours, steady but shadowed. “He worked himself to exhaustion, day after day, building the life he thought you left to find. Every late night, every difficult decision—it was all for you. He hoped that… if he could make something of himself here, you’d eventually come back. It was his way of holding onto you, even if he’d never admit it.”

You swallow, guilt creeping in as Erwin’s words sink in. “But I didn’t know… I didn’t think he…”

It’s like a curse. Levi loves so deeply that you never deserved him. You could live a thousand lives but never deserve Levi. Those words you said that night… it haunted him for years. You now understand that you could apologize for the rest of your life but never recover that time that he had lost for you.

“He doesn’t think you cared anymore. He started to never believe you'd look back after you left.” Erwin pauses, his words heavy. “But here’s the thing. When he finally realized that everything he built wouldn’t bring you back, he felt like he’d lost himself. You were a part of everything he’d made—every decision, every sacrifice. And once he accepted you weren’t coming back, he felt… lost.”

The weight of Erwin’s words presses down on you, and you struggle to find something, anything, to say. But no words came.

“He won’t say this, but deep down, he resents himself just as much as he resents you,” Erwin continues, his voice soft but steady. “Because he doesn’t know who he’s become without you. And even though he’s successful, respected… he’s haunted by the thought that he turned into someone he never wanted to be—all for someone who left.”

You look away, fighting the sting in your eyes as Erwin’s words wash over you, exposing the ripple effect of a choice you’d thought was yours alone to carry.

Erwin leans back, a quiet sadness in his eyes. “I know it’s not easy hearing this. And it’s not fair for me to say you owe him anything. But you asked, and I think you deserve the truth. He’s been hurt, but that doesn’t mean he’s closed off. He just… doesn’t know how to reach you anymore. That’s where you come in—if you still want to try.”

The weight of Erwin’s words is too much. You feel your throat tighten, your vision blurring as tears rise to the surface. Without saying a word, you push back your chair, grabbing your things in a hurry.

“Wait—” Erwin’s voice is soft, tinged with concern, but you can’t bear to look at him. You manage to force a small, choked “I’m sorry” before turning away and heading toward the door.

Once outside, you let out a shaky breath, the cold night air biting against your skin. You keep walking, not caring where, just needing to put space between yourself and everything you’ve just heard. The thought of Levi building his entire life around a hope you unknowingly destroyed makes your heart ache in a way that’s almost unbearable.

The city lights blur around you as you make your way through the streets, trying to process the enormity of what Erwin revealed. You’d never intended to hurt Levi this deeply. 

But now, knowing the truth… it feels like the weight of your choices has finally caught up with you. And with the overwhelming emotions, you feel the bile rising from your throat, making you hurriedly run to the nearest trash bin you could find in the street. 

Back in the dimly lit bar, Erwin sighed, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. The amber glow of his whiskey caught the low light as he lifted it, taking a slow, thoughtful sip. The bitter warmth washed over his tongue, and with it came the memories of that night—a night he hadn’t let himself linger on for years. 

He could still see Levi, slumped and worn, the fire in his eyes dampened as he poured out his heart. The weight of it all settled on Erwin’s shoulders, the burden of knowing just how deeply Levi had been affected.

It was late, the celebration from Stohess Stone Group’s one-year anniversary winding down. The city lights cast long shadows down the quiet streets as Erwin walked toward Levi’s apartment, the night air cool and still, with only the occasional hum of passing cars to break the silence. He’d noticed Levi slipping out early from the party, but the exhaustion on his friend’s face spoke volumes—it had been a relentless year of building, strategizing, and pouring every ounce of energy into making the vision a reality. Levi’s efforts had paid off spectacularly, but the toll it took was visible to those close enough to see it.

As Erwin reached Levi’s door, he noticed it was ajar, the dim light from inside spilling out into the hallway. He hesitated for a moment, then gently pushed it open, letting himself in. Levi’s apartment was stark, devoid of personal touches, almost impersonal in its precision. And there, sitting slumped on the couch with an empty bottle at his feet and another half-finished one in hand, was Levi.

The sight took Erwin aback. Levi never drank like this—not even after their hardest days. His usually sharp, calculating gaze was unfocused, eyes glassy and lost as he stared at nothing in particular.

“Levi,” Erwin called softly, stepping further inside and closing the door behind him.

At the sound of his name, Levi’s eyes flickered up, barely focusing on Erwin. A bitter smile pulled at his lips. “Erwin… here to give me a pep talk?” he slurred, the words laced with an uncharacteristic edge.

Erwin frowned, moving closer and taking a seat across from him. “I came because I was worried. You left early tonight. Didn’t think celebrating alone was your style.”

Levi scoffed, taking another swig from the bottle, his hands shaking slightly. “Celebrating what? I built something, yeah. Something great, maybe. But does it even matter?” He trailed off, voice dipping into something close to anguish.

Erwin was silent, watching as Levi’s expression twisted, his mask slipping entirely. “This…” Levi gestured around the room, the building, the city beyond, “It was supposed to mean something. I thought… I thought if I made this city better, if I became something here… maybe…” He stopped, his throat working as he fought to put words to the whirlwind of frustration and hurt boiling inside him.

“Maybe she’d come back?” Erwin finished quietly, piecing it together. He’d known there was more to Levi’s ambition than he let on, but he hadn’t realized the depth of it until now.

Levi’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he struggled to hold himself together. “She left, Erwin. Without a word. Didn’t even look back. And I thought it was because I wasn’t… enough. That this city wasn’t enough.” He clenched the bottle tighter, his knuckles white. “So I poured everything I had into changing that. Into changing me.”

Erwin felt a pang of sympathy as Levi’s voice broke. This was deeper than anything he’d seen from his friend before. Levi, always guarded, always steady, was unraveling before his eyes.

“I kept telling myself it was worth it. That I was doing something good. That I was becoming someone… worthy.” Levi’s laugh was hollow, devoid of warmth. “But what good is any of it if she doesn’t care? If none of it means anything to her?”

Erwin’s heart twisted, understanding dawning in full. Levi hadn’t built this empire purely for himself. It was a testament to a memory, a ghost he couldn’t let go of.

Levi continued, barely noticing the way Erwin’s hand rested gently on his shoulder in a silent offer of support. “She turned me into this. Into someone people respect, someone people look up to.” His voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. “But she’s not here to see it. Doesn’t even know. And now… now I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

A long silence settled over them. Erwin kept his hand firm on Levi’s shoulder, grounding him as he fought to find the right words.

“You’ve done something remarkable, Levi,” Erwin said softly. “You built something lasting, something people rely on. That’s no small feat. But you can’t let her absence take that away from you.”

Levi scoffed, his voice filled with hurt he could no longer hide. “But don’t you see? She’s the reason I started this. And now I’m stuck being someone I don’t even recognize… all for a person who’s gone.” 

He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as if that would shut out the painful truth. “I hate it, Erwin. I hate her for leaving. And I hate that I’m still doing this, still becoming this… for her.”

Erwin felt the weight of Levi’s words settle heavily on his own heart. He’d seen Levi push himself to the brink, seen him sacrifice more than anyone had asked of him, and now he understood why. It wasn’t just about ambition or pride—it was the desperate attempt to fill a void left by someone he still loved and resented in equal measure.

He leaned in, his voice gentle but firm. “You have every right to feel this way, Levi. To hate her, to question everything. But don’t let her absence erase everything you’ve achieved. You built this place. You turned that street into something incredible. She may have been the reason you started, but you’re the reason it succeeded.”

Levi let out a shaky breath, his eyes closed as he processed Erwin’s words. For a moment, he looked as though he might break, the weight of his emotions finally becoming too much to bear.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “Then why doesn’t it feel like it’s enough?”

Erwin had no answer to that. Not yet. Not right now. But that night, he promised himself that he would for his long time friend.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. reblogs, asks, and comments are also greatly appreciated. thank you.

End Note: How do you guys want Y/N to make it up to Levi?

[seat-safety-switch]

Here’s a fun fact for you: a used domestic minivan is effectively worthless. People predominantly buy them to transport their children, and after one or more sets of children, that van is so covered with kid cruft, leavings, and various juices, that it will weigh at least 300 pounds more than when it left the factory. That’s not just my opinion: check the resale value of used domestic minivans.

Sure, used Japanese minivans are always valuable. That’s because the Japanese have cleverly constructed a motor vehicle that doesn’t break, so you don’t have to spend a precious weekend of your life constantly swearing at whatever asshole at Mopar shoved the rear air conditioning lines in the same place the sliding door wants to be. Once the first family is done with their $60k Odyssey, they’ll sell it for $35k to the next family, and so on. Eventually, it will be purchased as a roofer to use as his or her work van, and it is here that the humble minivan reaches its final destination.

Despite the large amount of glass that allows meth-heads of all stripes to look inside at your tools, minivans are very useful as work vehicles. Most of them can carry a whole sheet of plywood, which is something that a crew-cab Ford truck has trouble claiming. They have peppy engines meant to carry that several hundred pounds of kid garbage, or a single, near-homicidal, hockey dad in traffic. And, as stated, they depreciate like a stone, so you won’t worry about the paint too much if you have to use the van to push around a few shopping carts or a probation officer.

Plus, they blend in with every economic strata, at least until things get a little too shitty. The fuzz won’t hassle a minivan, no matter which neighbourhood you are currently violating parking and traffic-control laws in. This means that you can get away with some really egregious crimes, especially if you have the foresight to put a high-visibility vest and a hard hat in the back before you commit those crimes.

When all is said and done, you can flip your minivan for basically whatever you paid for it. Major service still required? Barely runs? Gee, I guess I’ll take scrap value for it. Weird how it seems so heavy on the scale, right, Copper-Stripping Carl?

[rahhhhhtbrbbsbwbbsbaj]

Independence.

You looked at you reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in front of you. It had been a month since you had moved into your new place, and so much had already changed. First off this was the first time you had your own home, no more parents, no more roommates. This house was all yours. Admittedly it wasn't much, but the small patch of grass out the back was more than you could ever dream of as a broke college student. The move was stressful, and your body had undergone some... changes.

You weren't fat per say but you were definitely looking a little chunky. You were once a slim and toned, sitting at around 130 pounds at a slightly below average height. But now there was a pad of fat under your jaw and your stomach stuck out in a noticeable manner. 143 the scale said a week into your move when you'd been so stressed for about a month. You didn't mind the excess weight actually, you found it kind of hot.

During the move fitness and clean eating took a backseat as you were busy with other stuff. This meant takeout, stress snacking, and large sodas when moving furniture. Your clothes had stayed exactly the same size though, so you could start to see a dark slightly flattened navel through your pale shirt. You grabbed your gut before lifting up your shirt. You were suprisingly turned on seeing your own larger figure but wished that there was more. You wished that your shirt caught a little on your belly when you tried to lift it up. You wished your gut hid some of your waistband. You wished you were much bigger and fatter. Wished you were overweight, obese even, rather than your healthy weight. But most of all you wished that you had changed so rapidly, so astonishingly, that your skin had struggled to keep up. You wished you had those long, deep, red lines running up and down the length of your stomach.

That was the moment you realised that you were going to use this week to gain as much fat as humanly possible. You craved more.

First you had to get ready. You started by weighing yourself, a starting weight was important so you could know just how much blubber would be covering your new frame. You stepped on the scale and was shocked to see 154 staring right up at you. You'd only weighed yourself a month ago and you didn't feel that much bigger, right? Still looking down you took a moment to be present in your body. Your overfull stomach from a big breakfast (a now daily occurrence) pushed at your skin in a comforting way. You focused in on your belly, much larger than it had ever been. You had noticed before in the mirror but this was the first time actually feeling the first few inches of your thighs resting against each other. Still looking down you realised that your chin was resting in a small mound of fat. You put a hand on your belly. This was hot.

The next step was the food. You created a list of items and take out meals that would allow you to get in over 10 000 calories every single day. Heavy cream, beer, donuts, cakes, cookies, chips, all filled your shopping cart. You returned home, stocked the fridge and ordered all the food deliveries for the days you needed them. You were ready. Tomorrow you would start your journey.

[flipzone]

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The app provides you with helpful fitness guidance as well as comprehensive statistics on your progress over time.

The Lenovo HS11 Smart Body Fat Scale is an all-in-one digital health scale that automatically records your weight, body fat, muscle, and bone mass. Once you’ve stepped on the HS11 Smart weighing Scale, simply use the mobile APP to view your data in a few seconds.

Lenovo HS11 Smart weighing  Scale not only tracks the user’s daily body weight and BMI but also offers a set of other advanced features.

Using sophisticated sensors, the HS11 provides readings on lean mass and body fat percentage in addition to basic body measurements like weight, BMI, and percentage of body fat.

[milk5]

THE MILK5 COFFEE GUIDE VOL. 1

REMOVE #BADBEANS FROM YOUR LIFE FOREVER

If you are a #TrueBlueCoffeeHead and subsisting on supermarket beans and/or frequent visits to big chains like Starbucks, PLEASE help yourself (and your local community, the environment, coffee workers, etc) and buy a pour over filter and freshly roasted, quality beans from a local roaster. Explicitly seek out Fairtrade Organic/Smithsonian Bird Friendly certified beans if possible. The taste of shade-grown coffee is incredibly flavorful AND you can be certain that your beans aren't the product of yucky pesticides, actual slave labor, and the annihilation of millions of acres of rainforest.

To start with what you need, a goose-neck kettle and pour over carafe are good purchases, but a suitably sized mason jar and regular kettle still work on a budget. Learning how to make a great pour over will raise your home coffee game to professional standards without needing to spend literal thousands of dollars on a real grinder/steamer/espresso machine setup -- if you're able to buy all of these items new for less than a thousand dollars, you're going to be down a few hundos in exchange for some pretty shitty machines. Regardless, a pour over setup with good beans will pay for itself VERY rapidly, assuming it replaces frequent Starbucks visits or whatever other chain you were going to. If you frequent a LOCALLY OWNED coffee shop that you like, keep going! You're an important part of the ecosystem.

What about grinding the beans? Should I get pre-ground beans? Would a cheapo blender-like blade grinder work?

NEVER touch a blade grinder again. It doesn't matter as much if you have #BadBeans, but if you have good beans, ALWAYS use a grinder with a burr; blade grinders just chop up your beans randomly into particles of massively varying sizes, leading to simultaneous over-extraction and under-extraction, generally leading to wildly inconsistent flavors and low repeatability. Burrs will always grind the beans into uniform particles and ensure that you're always (more or less, every cup is different to an extent) getting a consistent flavor. Don't buy a burr grinder -- just bring your beans to a local coffee shop, buy a drink, tip well, and ask the barista if they could grind the beans for you when you can clearly tell that they aren't busy. I have NEVER been refused, just go to a place with less sour employees if they won't help you out. Specify the coarseness that you'd like; smaller grounds have a greater surface area, so they're extracted to a greater extent, resulting in a more intense flavor; coarse grounds are the inverse. Lots of people recommend medium-coarse for pour overs (about 80% coarse 20% fine), but I prefer the stronger flavor of medium/drip (dead middle, 50% coarse 50% fine). It's also better to grind your beans periodically, as freshly-ground beans will taste better, but it's fine to have it pre-ground or ground all at once if you aren't able to easily make coffee shop trips every week or two. As far as roasts go, there's an entire gradient for you to explore -- not just the few that I list here; light roasts have a more sour, fruitier flavor, medium roasts are well rounded, and dark roasts are rich and smokey. Medium-dark is my personal favorite.

Experiment!!! It's all about your own taste, after all.

How do I make a good pour over?

Again, it depends on your taste. My go-to is a vigorous fourth-cup of grounds to 300ml of water; this is easily on the stronger end, but it's what works for me. More common ratios are usually weighed out on a kitchen scale, so consider picking one up if you don't already have one. Document your process until you get to your favorite! I always stop the kettle a little before it gets to its terminal temperature, then pour just enough water onto the grounds to let it bloom -- wait for one minute, and then start pouring a small-ish portion of the water onto the grounds every 20 seconds (this is where my own technique varies the most, it usually takes between 3-4 minutes to finish since I'm not pouring standard amounts; some people DO measure their pours for even greater consistency). Use the stopwatch on your phone, it's much better than keeping track in your head. Make sure to distribute the water evenly over the grounds, particularly making sure to wash the grounds off the sides every pour. When I'm finished, I like to immediately take a sip to see if a splash of milk or half-and-half would help or hurt the cup -- I think a very good cup of coffee can easily stand on its own without anything else, but additives can absolutely help depending on your personal preferences. Just be sure to taste the black coffee before you add anything.

What if I like the syrupy sweet drinks? What about iced coffee?

From my experience working at/visiting coffee shops, Monin is the most common syrup brand I see at local places. As far as iced coffee goes, coldbrew would be probably be the superior option -- it's also pretty easy to make at your home. I'm not going to be writing a guide for coldbrew any time soon, so you're out of luck there. I also never steam my milk if I'm doing a pour over, so I can't really point you to an inexpensive way to do that. Just know that the cheap handheld stick-frothers do not do the same thing as an actual steamer.

What was that about certifications?

Fairtrade is a pretty notable certification for food items produced in areas that have a history for being exploited (so pretty much the bulk of the global south), it can get very complex -- read more about it here. The goal is to ensure that the workers and communities involved in the production of the product receive fair, livable wages, that labor conditions are safe and reasonable, and that the decisions around the production of the product are made by those directly involved in the labor. FTO refers to Fairtrade Organic, which just means that it meets the standards of both Fairtrade AND organic production -- I'm not exactly sure if the organic standards are based on where the coffee is sold, produced, or both, but regardless, it's still a bonus; organic coffee will almost ALWAYS be shade-grown, which is the way that coffee grows naturally. Since coffee is an understory tree in nature, shade-grown coffee is produced more slowly and under a canopy and thus does not require the forest to be damaged or destroyed to grow; however, not all organic coffee will necessarily take place in a completely natural, untouched rain forest setting. Industrial non-organic coffee is most often produced under direct sun in gigantic clear-cut monocrop rows and usually with massive usage of potentially harmful inputs like, such as various pesticides and fertilizers. Direct sun coffee grows faster, but it has a distinctly different taste and is easily the most damaging method of coffee production to both the environment and the local communities. Smithsonian Bird-Friendly is the most rigorous certification for coffee in particular; FTO is more or less a pre-requisite to achieve SBF. Coffee likes to grow in tropical, equatorial environments -- these environments are also the areas of the greatest bird diversity in the world (and, really, biodiversity in general) and the destination for most migratory birds during the winter. The coffee industry has destroyed literal millions of acres of rain forest across the world, which has resulted in the death of billions of birds worldwide over the past 50 years. SBF guarantees the FTO criteria PLUS the additional criteria that the coffee must be produced in forests that are more-or-less in their natural state with thriving diversity of endemic species of flora and fauna. It's harder to find SBF-certified coffee than FT(O)-certified coffee, but the Smithsonian website has a handy vendor locator here. I'm not confident that it works beyond U.S. vendors, so I apologize to anyone interested abroad. Note that some of these certifications may be exclusive to particular continents; I need to do more research on the subject, but the tropical forests around the world vary wildly -- this adds a level of complexity to the goals and criteria of a particular certification. I am confident that all of the certifications that I have mentioned apply to South and Central America (and most likely the Caribbean), so keep that in mind. Also, watch out for phony certifications; big corporations frequently buy out existing certification organizations and/or create new green-sounding organizations to fool well-meaning consumers.

Where should my brand new beans come from?

Like wine, the exact qualities of a bean depend on its terroir, or the specific methods and geographic factors involved in its growth. However, some countries have trends in how the coffee is generally grown; some counties will practice shade-growing more than others and some countries will practice direct-sun industrial methods more than others. As a rule of thumb, Arabica beans are mostly grown in shade or partial shade, while Robusta is generally grown in direct sun. Defer to certifications if applicable.

The following areas primarily practice shade-growing:

Mexico

El Salvador

Peru

Panama

Nicaragua

Guatemala

Cuba

Timor

New Guinea

Ethiopia

Burundi

Rwanda

Tanzania

Zambia (*)

Zimbabwe (*)

Papua New Guinea

Sulawesi

Timor + East Timor

India

The following areas primarily practice direct-sun growing:

Colombia

Brazil

Costa Rica

Hawaii

Yemen

Kenya

Angola

Benin

Central African Republic

Congo

Gabon

Ghana

Guinea

Equatorial Guinea

Ivory Coast

Liberia

Nigeria

Sierra Leone

Togo

Cameroon

Madagascar

Malawi (**)

Democratic Republic of the Congo

Sumatra (***)

Java

Vietnam

China

Jamaica

Again, this is just a rule of thumb; there are exceptions to both and I'm sure that I've left out several production areas. Most of this information comes from the blog Coffee and Conservation, written by ornithologist Julie Craves. I've only tried a very small percentage of these origins; so far, my favorites are Sumatran (Arabica, of course) and Peruvian.

*The source that I got this information from mentioned that some avoid Zambian and Zimbabwean coffee due to concerns of it helping fund violent conflict in the area; this particular article, however, is from 2006 and may be wildly out of date. I couldn't find much more info on this topic when I searched elsewhere.

**They primarily produce Arabica with organic methods, despite the sunny conditions.

***Sumatra is likely the most notable coffee-growing island in Asia; while the majority is Robusta grown on plantations that have deforested a horrifyingly large percentage of the island, the Arabica grown in the north is well-known for its far healthier growing conditions (shade + organic, usually) and extremely distinct flavor.

Volume 2?

I may eventually add on to this post, most likely with a Turkish coffee guide coming next. I used to make Turkish coffee quite frequently, but I would need to dig up my old favorite recipe and cezve first. French press and coldbrew stuff will be in the more distant future if at all.

If any of this info looks wrong, let me know and I'll edit the post :-)

Enjoy your cup!!!!

[evidence-based-activism]

did you see the New York Times article with Biden and Trump’s heads photoshopped onto half naked bodies on weighing scales. I thought body shaming is bad? Imagine if it was Kamala or another female politician who had this done to them. If it’s wrong for women it’s wrong for men

Quick notes:

No, I had not.

It wasn't the New York Times it was the cover of New York magazine’s Health Issue (from July).

The photo illustration was by Martin Schoeller and the source images were from Seth Wenig and Mandel Ngan. In other words, men. Men made the image.

I personally find the illustration to be in poor taste. But that's pretty much a standard for political cartoons (vaguely offensive and poorly done).

Calling Harris by her first name while referring to Biden and Trump (and all the other male politicians) by their last names is sexist. You're demonstrating less respect for her as a professional.

---

My main point:

I don't need to "imagine" this being done to female politicians, because they are already facing something significantly worse: deepfake pornography. In fact, "ninety-six percent of deepfakes online depict women in non-consensual pornography" [1]. For example, a recent British investigation found "found evidence of over 400 instances of digitally altered deepfake pornography of more than 30 high-profile UK politicians" [2], all of whom were women.

Importantly, there is substantial evidence that this form of harassment is impacting women's ability to continue in their line of work [1].

So, that magazine cover was in poor taste, but it's also not impacting their (or any other man's) ability to continue in their line of work. It's not pornographic or even remotely sexualized. (I think you'd even have a hard time arguing it's objectifying – that is, reducing them to objects.) Notably, I've never seen a photo-shopped image of a woman in her underwear that wasn't explicitly sexualized.

In addition, please see this post for evidence that women face more issues concerning body image and sexualization/objectification in the media.

---

As an additional, important note: nonsexual deepfakes are also an increasing concern [3], such as the fake campaign ads and photos being passed off as real (e.g., the recent one of Harris spread by Musk). Please do not blindly trust any videos or photographs without some verification.

References under the cut:

Shukla, Vandinika. “Deepfakes and Elections: The Risk to Women’s Political Participation | TechPolicy.Press.” Tech Policy Press, 29 Feb. 2024, https://techpolicy.press/deepfakes-and-elections-the-risk-to-womens-political-participation.

Politico. (2024, July 2). How deepfakes could upend 2024's elections. Politico. https://www.politico.com/newsletters/politico-nightly/2024/07/02/how-deepfakes-could-upend-2024s-elections-00166347

Floreani, Samantha. “From Politics to Porn: Will 2024 Be the Year in Which Deepfake Fears Finally Become Real?” The Guardian, 25 July 2024. The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/25/ai-celebrity-deepfakes-generative-chatgpt-impact-politics-future.

[unhetalia]

dreaming about historical model Alfred…..

This is purely self-indulgent

In a nations-are-known scenario: yk those videos that are like “hair through the decades” where they do the most popular hairstyles from 1890-2010 on one model. Like that but times a billion. I want magazine style fashion history. I want Georgian era clothes to 1950s retro to armor.

Realistically I think sightings of AFJ would be much more akin to Adam Sandler but in my heart he’s a model. & I also think (again, in my heart,) he has at least close to the ideal male proportions. Maybe not perfect but like… perfectly average while still being considered unique. Just enough wiggle room in the measurements to be uniquely pretty while still conforming to the ideal. Does any of this make sense. What I mean is he’s a good dress up doll and I want to play dress up with him.

Hi, I love this! I have no idea about Adam Sandler (is he not sighted regularly? Is that why he was brought up? Or do you mean he dresses terribly when he's out and about?) but here are my AFJ thoughts in a public AU (which, great timing, I have a fic I'm writing that features that so my brain is SUPER thinking about this).

In terms of public appearances — AFJ is seen out and about a lot. Probably the only one seen around more is Arthur, who is a diplomat and knighted and just a very prolific member of the British government. AFJ, unlike Arthur, is a private citizen, and in fact, his right to criticize the government is literally in the constitution (I want to get more into this at some point but not now), so not only is AFJ seen out and about a lot, he's chatty.

But in terms of his wardrobe — well, my thing has always been that AFJ doesn't give a shit, alas, but also he's... ethereal, and so despite not being fashionable in the traditional way he's a bit of a trendsetter. People will ask him where he got his shurt and his answer will either be the 1800s or an op shop, but he makes it WORK. There's a whole series of coffee table books that's just his wardrobe over the years.

I've mentioned before how in-universe I firmly believe Alfred's considered the most attractive, even among the Nations. I think his face is just... pretty. He looks youthful, with long eyelashes and large, doe eyes. Just androgynous enough to make him look unique, but not teetering towards looking feminine.

Body wise, I actually adore how Hima drew him here —

in that I LOVE the softness of his body even while he looks obviously fit. He doesn't have abs, you can see some softness around his tummy but you can also see that slight hint of muscle there, too, then it curves to his breedable hips. I think this is Al at a 'healthy weight'. In my head, Alfred sometimes loses weight because of disordered eating, both because he's the type of person who doesn't eat when working (canon) and also because he DOES have body image issues that causes him to diet (also canon). Due to the fact Hima has NEVER shown AFJ actually looking overweight while showing him despairing at weighing scales, it really built in my head this idea that Al has some body dysmorphia.

Shit? That got dark? ESPECIALLY because I think this is something the public would notice.

Back to lighter topics - there's an "eco friendly fashion" movement inspired by Alfred's ability to look stylish while also only buying secondhand/keeping clothes for a long time. It's actually very neat! People also acknowledge that Alfred's fashion only work on him because he's so beautiful anything he wears seem chic, but also people do some really cool stuff with secondhand stuff or even like. Making their own clothes. In order to encourage people to do this, they do competitions on best outfits and whoever gets the most votes actually has their outfit worn by Alfred aka LITERAL DRESSING AL LIKE A BARBIE JUST FOR YOU, ANON.

[sreegs]

if you absolutely do not like coffee and you're sure of this, keep scrolling this post isn't for you. if you drink coffee and want better coffee, or you find that you only like some types of coffee, i have some advice for you.

coffee snobs do get one thing right: a burr grinder and keeping your coffee as whole beans ups your home brew game to the next level. if you brew at home, no matter what style, get a burr grinder. and get an airtight (doesnt have to be vacuum sealed, just airtight), opaque container to keep your whole beans at room temperature.

furthermore, if you like coffee but find that some are too bitter, stop buying dark roast. look at the package and find ones labeled "medium" or "light" roast. dark roast coffee is intended for espresso and people who are miserable. or maybe they just like the taste of burned beans, who knows.

lastly, measure your coffee by weight, not by scoop. beans and grounds have different densities so volumetric measurement will vary your daily cuppa coffee like wild. a scale that does grams is like $10 and you should have one in your kitchen anyways. i usually do 25 grams of coffee per 420 grams of water. because it's easy to remember and its the amount i like.

switching from a pre-ground can of dark roast to a fresh-ground, weighed portion of medium or light roast will feel like you just opened your own coffee shop. the burr grinder is the most expensive part but it's a one-time investment (barring any shitty grinders, read reviews carefully). medium and light roast beans are more expensive than folgers or what have you but not by much. the leap in quality is so much more than the price, though.

there's a million other variables that go into a good cup of cawffee but those could fill a library. some are worth tweaking, others dont make a difference, but fresh ground beans and the roast you choose is absolutely the foundation for a nice cup of joe