#custom initial print

[gaydryad]

making slow progress toward a (vaguely) dynamic pokémon custom team template that mimics the Bulbapedia team flyout and after ... a ... While ... of essentially redesigning the element hierarchy from scratch with the help of a friend who is MUCH better at programming than me, it is beginning to Look

(the Absol screenshot was just one I had on hand for a stand-in, my final one will probably look a little different since I want to also add Mega / Partner Pokemon indicators if possible, and to also just tweak the info hierarchy a bit)

[the-spoingus-show]

Theme Adventure

i was gonna start this post with "okay, i know i haven't posted in a couple days", but then i found that queued post in my frozen queue, so that's not even true anymore. anyways. i haven't been productive because i went on an Editor Theme Side Quest which went from an hour to 3 days. At first, I found a theme when I was looking for plugins to add to the Project Template, but it didn't look the way I wanted. It was a little darker than vanilla, with more saturated colors for the text editor, but it had a yucky font and some of the text colors were questionable. I had to directly edit the Godot settings text file, which was suuper fucking annoying, but it was kind of interesting, I guess. After I discovered I wasn't a fan, I reset all my editor stuff to default, and started changing the colors myself.

Initially, I was only changing the background/accent color, so I could have a slightly darker mode with orange details (gotta rep the niche favourite color pick). Then I realized I could just steal only the colors from that theme, and then I could tweak them to my liking. I was originally gonna just boost their saturation and be done with it, but (like everything else in this damn story) it got a little out of control, and I ended up making an image in ms paint to visualize what the different text colors would look like together.

If you look closely at what the final product looks like (which took WAY MORE TWEAKING after this), and compare it to my silly paint blueprint, you'll notice just how much I ended up changing between the two. I tried to maintain the original saturation values, to keep a similar vibe in the editor. I'm particularly happy with the blue strings, teal node references, and orange functions - they make everything look really pretty with the pink keywords. The entire editor just has a very different vibe that satisfies my rabid urge to be quirky.

God, if there's two things I love in design, it's bright, saturated colors on a dark background, and fucking ORANGE, BABY!!!!! It looks wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that I completely forgot that normal people don't code in Comic Sans. Since I started coding 4 years ago, I have coded in Comic Sans (or Comic Mono, to be exact), and I have not been able to code in anything else. It's just the norm for me. Any time you see something I create, remember that it was made in Comic Sans. Anyways, I wrote way too fucking much about my silly editor theme, and I need to get back to actually doing work. Take care, Mike! :)

[thatdisasterauthor]

👀 i would be interested in hearing the deviantart points rant

Alrighty, the deviantART points rant. For context, I had a dA account from the time I was 12 and used it steadily until I was about 20. I was also a volunteer moderator with them for about a year, and they even offered me a job at one point. (But there was no way in heaven or hell they could've paid me enough to move to southern California, and god forbid they offer remote work.)

dA was one of the original social media behemoths. Never quite to the level of Twitter or Facebook, but if you were an artist you were on deviantART. It was a fantastic site back in its heyday. Artists got their start on there, recruiters were on there, art directors were on there, the community building features were fantastic. Yeah, it had its share of weird shit, but point me to a website that doesn't.

Multiple famous artists got their start on deviantART. Back then, it was a place you got real, legitimate work from. A place you could use to build a real, legitimate audience. The titans of early 2000s digital art that pretty much everyone knows (in the West, anyway), the ones who still have a massive effect on art styles today, basically all got their start on deviantART. It influenced the entire western culture of what art looks like on the internet, and that bled out into what art looks like everywhere else because these people made beloved shows and comics and movies and books and everything else.

But one of the best things about deviantART was that it was created at a time before everyone decided social media had to be slimmed down to its barest bones. It was a complex site, and there was a lot to it. That made it really easy for all levels of artists (and just plain art enjoyers) to use, and easy for them to make it function in a way that worked for them. This fostered a great environment where people of all skill levels could interact, share knowledge, and just absorb skills from one another.

Now, one area deviantART didn't initially cater to people was built-in payment options. They had a print shop you could upload your work to, but it was like Redbubble or Printful; merch selling, not custom work selling. So if artists wanted to offer commissions, they'd have to take payments elsewhere. (Usually Paypal.) Which was fine! That worked great!

But, well. Corporations gonna corporate. I forget the exact year, but one day they launched a new feature called Points. Points were a site specific currency, and they were one of the first (if not the first) to have such a thing. There were also some other things launched with it, including the ability to accept commissions with points as payment. You could also use points to buy site subscriptions, badges, stuff from the print shop, etc., or you could gift them to other people. You could also cash them out for real currency, for a fee (I wanna say the fee was 10%, and less if you were a subscribed user, but I can't remember exactly).

The conversion rate for Points was 1 Point=1US cent. Which seems fine on the surface! But the problem was psychological, because what they didn't do was actually make it look like that. Points instead looked like dollars, because there was no equivalent to actual CENTS in the Points ecosystem. So, for example, lets say you want to charge one dollar for something. That would look like this:

$1

P100.

Or ten dollars for something:

$10

P1000

Or a hundred dollars for something:

$100

P10000

See the problem? They're the same VALUE, but points just look massively bigger. This was especially a problem for people who didn't know what the conversion rate was because they just didn't know, or they were from other countries and REALLY didn't know because it wasn't related to their own currencies at all. (I think there was also a max amount of points you could charge for a commission, like a couple hundred dollars worth maybe? It was low when you converted it to real currency, if I'm remembering correctly.)

It devalued the art market like a knife to the gut. People were suddenly taking commissions for literal pennies just because the numbers LOOKED bigger. And because deviantART was such a hub for the art community, it bled out elsewhere. Prices started to dip other places too, because people who DID understand the conversion rate knew they could go on deviantART and get shit for super cheap from the people who didn't know or care. Which made other people lower their prices to compete, and it just resulted in a spiral to the bottom.

Would the art market have still tanked in the same way without the introduction of Points on dA? Maybe. But Points were the first domino to fall, and they were a massive one. The art market has never recovered even though deviantART has been 90% dead for going on a decade.

So yes. There's my internet history rant on Points and art values. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[sixeyesonathiel]

academic rival!satoru who starts pulling all-nighters and obsessively rewriting his notes not just to beat you—but to catch your attention. he tells himself it’s strategy, war, rival stuff. but deep down, he’s hoping you’ll finally look at him. not glare. look. and when you do—when your gaze sharpens like a blade and you hiss, “how the hell did you score higher than me?”—his heart flutters like it's prom night, like you proposed marriage with your rage. he circles the date on his planner. he writes a haiku about it in his margin. “her eyes could kill me / but in that moment, i’d die / a scholar in love.” he considers submitting it to the campus poetry zine. he doesn’t. but he thinks about it. constantly.

he didn’t mean to start this rivalry, but he absolutely doubled down on it once he realized you were finally taking him seriously. the first time you muttered “smug bastard” under your breath in class, he swore he saw the face of god and got addicted to the sound of your frustration. he spiraled that night. rewrote his planner in pen. made a color-coded timeline of “her fury levels vs my grades.” it’s posted on his wall like an artifact. so now he’s trying harder. not just studying. overstudying. outscoring you on every test, quiz, class poll, kahoot game, group project ranking, and even the stupid little brain break games professors throw in. he shows up with research articles printed and annotated just so he can leave them on your desk, post-it commentary signed with a heart. he calls it “scholarly banter.” his friends call it “a cry for help.”

everything he does is soaked in neon desperation and pastel affection. he's convinced every time your voice raises in exasperation, it’s basically flirting. he calls it “intellectual foreplay.” his friends call it “delusion with extra steps.” you once slammed your textbook shut mid-discussion and muttered something about transferring schools just to escape him. he marked that moment in his journal as “peak chemistry.”

he still steals your pens, but now he leaves behind new ones. personalized. glittery. cursed with horrible puns. your name spelled out in cursive on the cap. once he got one custom-made with your initials and a tiny heart, and when you used it during a test, he almost fainted. he says it's to maintain “balance in the rivalry.” really, he just wants to see you roll your eyes, maybe sigh in that way that means you’re exasperated but not homicidal. progress. baby steps. thesis-worthy milestones. he once emailed the campus stationery supplier to ask if they could make pens that smell like your favorite shampoo. they said no. he cried a little.

his google drive has twelve folders named after you: “rival data,” “her essays (aka masterpieces),” “evidence she’s smarter than me but i’m hotter probably,” and “her favorite snacks ranked by study mood.” he makes spreadsheets comparing your academic scores. one chart tracks your moods based on how many hours you spent in the library, cross-referenced with your spotify activity. it’s color-coded. he thinks it’s romantic. it looks like a CIA threat report. he once gave a presentation with you as a case study on academic excellence. you weren't in the class. he did it anyway. he said it was “practice for when we’re co-professors someday.”

you treat him like a nuisance. a threat. a very loud, very cerulean-eyed glitch in your academic routine. you work harder just to obliterate his smirk. you glare when he gets the top score, mutter insults when he raises his hand, scoff when he compliments your writing. he thinks it’s all part of the enemies-to-lovers pipeline. it is not. you hate him. you're convinced he's mocking you. and he’s too stupidly in love to realize his plan is imploding like a dying star. he writes motivational quotes on his mirror. they’re all just things you’ve yelled at him.

he thinks it’s banter. you think it’s war. he flirts through footnotes, you throw sharpened stares. he doodles hearts on your thesis draft, you circle them in red and write “grow up.” he writes fake references in his essays like “her eyes, personal observation, 2025” and wonders why you haven’t confessed yet. he once tried to footnote your handwriting as a primary source of inspiration. you reported it as academic misconduct. he thanked you for noticing. he still has the warning email. printed. framed.

he believes in your intellectual excellence like it’s gospel. once said, “she’s a walking academic citation,” and got choked up about it. when you won the department award, he clapped so hard he got a bruise. told everyone later he was clapping for the future mother of his academic children. you told him to shut up. he saved the moment anyway. printed the photo. it’s in his wallet. laminated. waterproof. just in case.

his grades are rising but his romantic odds are tanking. he’s winning tests and losing dignity. one time he scored 100%, looked at you for validation, and you said, “congrats, nerd.” he wrote a poem about it. it rhymed. poorly. he performed it at the campus open mic. people clapped. you left halfway through. he said it was symbolic. a metaphor for your metaphorical emotional walls. he made a mood board. labeled it “the walls she built, the man i became.”

to him, you're the rival-slash-muse of his dreams. to you, he’s that annoying guy who somehow has your cat doodle as his lock screen. how? why? you don’t know. you don’t want to know. he says it “inspires him to rise above academic mediocrity.” you tell him to get therapy. he writes that down. “note to self: look into couples therapy.” you threaten violence. he updates his will. adds a note: “to be read by her, preferably with tears in her eyes.”

he's convinced you're in the slow burn arc. you're convinced he’s an incurable idiot. he messages you late at night with things like, “what’s your stance on fate?” or “if we wrote a thesis together, what would the topic be?” you leave him on read. he screenshots it and stares for hours. once he printed out a message you sent—“we’re not friends”—and taped it above his desk like motivational hate mail. then made it his lock screen for a week.

of course you and him aren’t friends. don’t be ridiculous. you’re soulmates, silly. academic rivals to twin flames. enemies-to-lovers speedrun. he’s delusional, yes, but passionately.

his delusions are so loud they echo in the lecture hall. he sees you win a class debate and writes a 2,000-word reflection on intellectual passion. titles it “she spoke, and the earth wept.” submits it anonymously to the school literary mag. signs it with your initials and hopes you’ll take the hint. you do. you write a rebuttal titled “the earth weeps because you talk too much.” he hangs it next to his bed. says it’s proof of your connection. invites people over just to show them.

you once muttered, “you’re a walking distraction,” and he whispered “she noticed me” before fainting dramatically onto his desk. his friend had to fan him with a syllabus. he calls that day “the awakening.” he includes it on his personal timeline of academic enlightenment. writes a song. badly. uploads it to soundcloud under the name “midterm romeo.” it has 101 plays. 99 of them are him.

the only reason he joined the academic decathlon was because you signed up. when asked his motivation, he said “to defeat my nemesis and earn her begrudging respect.” you stared at him. he winked. you nearly punched him. he said, "was that a spark?" and held an ice pack to his cheek with a lovesick smile. wrote a limerick about it. no one laughed but him. he printed it on a mug.

he's tried subtle confessions, like changing his discord status to “she's my thesis.” no one knew who “she” was. except everyone did. the group chat roasted him for six hours. he left and rejoined under a new name: “GPA 4 HER.” it got worse. made a spotify playlist named: “studying her like a sacred text.” you blocked him on everything but email. he started ending all peer reviews with “ps: hi.”

at some point, your mutual friends start noticing. they ask if you two are dating. you respond with horror. he responds with “not yet.” you threaten violence. he updates his will again. adds a footnote: “if she cries at my funeral, i win.” writes a powerpoint: “our enemies-to-lovers arc: a predictive analysis.” presents it to himself in his dorm at 2am. cries. adds transitions. makes a playlist.

you don’t know he wrote you into his valedictorian speech. he calls you “his greatest academic challenge and muse.” he practices it at night, staring at the mirror, pretending you're there in the crowd, not fuming—but finally, finally smiling at him. he’s rehearsed your nonexistent wedding vows more than his intro paragraph. sometimes he grades fake exams you never wrote and gives you 100 just to feel something. he once drafted a fictional university recommendation letter for you just to imagine what it’d be like to praise you publicly without you throwing a pen at his head.

and maybe, if he’s lucky, when the final grades are out and you tie for first place, you’ll look at him again. not with fury. not with confusion. but with something soft. maybe interest. maybe curiosity. maybe the beginning of something stupid. something sweet. something research paper-worthy.

strictly academic, of course. unless... extra credit?

[novaandmali]

Join us for a silent auction benefiting two initiatives in Ga2a!

We have nearly 90 items up from prints to tattoos to embroidery to a custom ring to our out of print tarot cards!

Bidding starts on Friday at noon EDT and runs through July 12th at noon EDT.

Link: https://32auctions.com/novaandmali

Please note: some items don't have photos yet. I'm working on it and they'll be ready by Friday <3

Proceeds will be split evenly between the two and I'll post receipts!

Some of the items from us include: a signed copy of Mali's Star Trek comic cover, book bundles, out of print Classics 1 (our personal display copy), and our literal last set of tarot cards (also our personal display copy)

[kxsagi]

hiiii, can u do the bluelock guys and fem reader who has to leave 4 the marines? i would like to highlight aiku and ness in this scenario. If u ever do u end up doing it, thanks.

“𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬”

a/n: yesss i gotchu girl, thank you for your patience!

ft. ness alexis, aiku oliver, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, and barou shoei

ness alexis

sobbing. immediately. 

“are you… are you going to get blown up? 🥺” 

he cries in your arms the night before you leave. he refuses to let go. 

wraps your favorite scarf around your neck and tucks a photo of the two of you into your bag. 

sends you a good morning and good night message every single day without fail, and gets pouty if you miss a reply. 

tells everyone in blue lock you’re in the marines and treats you like an international spy. 

keeps saying, “i’m dating a warrior queen. i’m basically a prince.” 

sends you letters scented with his cologne. adds sparkly stickers and a lipstick print of your old lip balm “for luck.” 

aiku oliver

acts like he’s supportive… but cries in the car after dropping you off. 

“go live your dream, babe,” he says while gripping your suitcase like it wronged him. 

texts you things like “what if you get recruited into a secret underwater government branch and fall for an octopus man?” 

he is now weirdly obsessed with military documentaries and googles “how to be a respectful marine husband.” 

starts hitting the gym twice as hard because “if my girl’s gonna come back with biceps, i gotta be ready.” 

owns three keychains with your face on them. one is on his car keys. one is on his toothbrush. one is mysteriously in his wallet behind his ID. 

kaiser michael

pretends he’s unfazed: “it’s whatever. do what you want.” 

but the second you turn away, he’s pacing. muttering. spiraling. 

“why would you go there? are there no hobbies on land?” 

mails you custom dog tags that say “property of michael fucking kaiser.” 

makes jokes like, “if you cheat on me with a navy seal, i will become a pirate.” 

becomes overdramatic with everything. texts you “hope your missiles are doing better than i am.” 

asks you for a photo every day. he has an album titled “my girl, my general.” 

mikage reo

90% proud, 10% devastated. 

he wants to fund you. “can i buy you a submarine? a private aircraft carrier?” 

throws a dramatic “send-off party” with a banner that says “SEXY MILITARY BADDIE DEPLOYMENT CELEBRATION.” 

teaches himself morse code because “it’s romantic, babe. this is wartime love.” 

jokes about becoming your sugar daddy while you’re out being a badass. 

puts your enlistment photo in a gold frame on his desk and flexes it on zoom calls. 

buys himself a plush shark and names it after you. sleeps with it every night. 

nagi seishiro

“you’re joining the what now?” 

initially confused, then lazy sad. like... "ugh now i have to miss you a lot?” 

becomes weirdly clingy and burritos you in a blanket to stop you from going. 

keeps voice memos of your laugh and replays them while gaming. 

changes his gamer tag to “marinewifesei” (you didn’t even marry him???) 

mopes during deployment like a cat left alone for three days. 

“come back soon. the bed’s cold. and i miss your shampoo.” 

isagi yoichi

the proudest boyfriend. 

“you’re incredible. you’re strong. you’re brave. i believe in you.” (also nearly cries in the bathroom.) 

spends hours writing the perfect goodbye letter that he hands you awkwardly like it’s a confession. 

sends you updates on every single match. “this goal’s for you.” 

trains even harder while you’re away so you’ll be proud of him, too. 

tracks your deployment schedule and counts down the days like a kid waiting for christmas. 

has a marine keychain he kisses before every game. 

itoshi rin

quiet. stiff. brooding. 

doesn’t say “don’t go” because he respects you. but his grip on your hand tightens when you board that bus. 

writes long emails he never sends. 

visits your family more than you asked him to. brings them groceries and checks in regularly. 

watches the news obsessively and googles your base weather forecast daily. 

lowkey wears your hair tie on his wrist like it’s armor. 

when you come back, he hugs you so tight, it’s like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve. “don’t leave again,” he mutters into your shoulder. 

shidou ryusei

“oh hell yeah, my girlfriend’s gonna be a certified badass killing machine??” 

starts referring to you as “the missile mistress.” 

wants to fight you. not romantically. he wants a sparring match. 

immediately creates a playlist titled “music for when my gf’s out destroying nations.” 

misses you terribly but won’t admit it unless someone catches him watching your tik toks with a pout. 

writes you unhinged letters like “day 36 without your thighs around my head. morale is low.” 

plans to greet you at the airport with a “WELCOME BACK WAR CRIMINAL 💖” sign. 

itoshi sae

does not outwardly react. at all. 

“hm. you sure?” 

deep down, his brain is doing backflips. he doesn’t like the idea of you being so far, in danger, unreachable. 

he respects your choice, but becomes more protective. 

your last night before deployment, he holds you tighter than ever. doesn’t sleep. watches you breathe. 

he emails you little things – photos of his coffee, dumb things rin said, a new project he’s working on. 

doesn’t say “i miss you.” just: “come home safe.” 

barou shoei

furious. not at you, just at the world for taking you. 

“why the hell do you have to go fight in a warzone? don’t they have dudes for that?” 

buys gym equipment so he can get stronger “just in case you need backup.” 

meal preps and freezes food for your return like a very angry housewife. 

carves your initials into his gym bag like he’s in a shonen anime arc. 

sends you intense letters like “if you don’t come back alive i’ll resurrect you and kill you again myself.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[heartsiebyul]

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

Gifts and Messages

Special Birthday Story

featuring — Heartslabyul : Savanaclaw : Octavinelle : Scarabia : Pormefiore : Ignihyde : Diasomnia.

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷

𓇼 Riddle Rosehearts

After finishing dinner at a fine restaurant Riddle had reserved, he handed you a wrapped box tied with a red ribbon. Inside was a stunning fountain pen, your initials delicately engraved on its side.

"You always have so many thoughts and ideas... I thought this might help you capture them more properly. Precision and elegance are important, even in writing." he said softly.

He placed a hand over yours, then leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Happy birthday, love. I hope this year brings you clarity, discipline, and countless achievements. And… happiness too, with me, of course."

𓇼 Trey Clover

Trey sets down a heart-shaped cake he baked, along with a leather-bound recipe book embossed with your name.

The cake is decorated with tiny versions of things you love, thoughtfully crafted and full of meaning.

“I wanted to bake something that reminded you of us” he says warmly. “And this book? It’s filled with some of my favorite recipes. I hope we can fill the rest with ones we make together.”

As you take the first bite, he leans in to kiss your forehead and adds softly,

“Happy birthday, sweetheart. May your days be sweet, steady, and filled with warmth. I’ll always be someone you can rely on.”

𓇼 Cater Diamond

After dinner, Cater presents you with a custom scrapbook, filled with printed photos, selfies of you and him, group shots with friends, and little notes he’s written over time.

“Tada~! Magicam-worthy memories in physical form” he grins. “I wanted to give you something that reminds you how loved you are, even when I’m not around.”

He leans in to take a new selfie with you, already planning where to place it in the book.

“Happy b-day, cutie! Wishing you a year of aesthetic vibes, genuine smiles, and unforgettable fun!”

He squeezes your hand and adds, “And hey, let’s keep making memories worth framing, yeah?”

𓇼 Ace Trappola

Ace tosses you a bright red box with a smirk. Inside is a hoodie embroidered with your favorite custom design.

“Comfy and cool, just how you like it” he grins. “Figured I’d get you something you would actually wear, y'know? And hey, it kinda smells like me too.”

He leans in, eyes playful, and plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Happy birthday, babe. Let’s make this year full of laughs, dumb ideas, and memories you’ll never forget, especially with me around.”

He bumps your shoulder lightly. “After all, life’s more fun when I’m part of the chaos, right?”

𓇼 Deuce Spade

After a small but charming dinner at Ramshackle, Deuce shyly hands you a small box. Inside is a delicate silver charm bracelet, each tiny charm representing something special to both of you.

“I wanted to give you something meaningful… something that holds memories” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s simple, but I really put my heart into choosing the charms.”

He looks you in the eye, his voice steady with sincerity. “Happy birthday. I wish you strength, success, and peace of mind. And I’ll always be here to cheer you on.”

Then, gathering his courage, he leans in and kisses you gently. “Let’s keep adding to these memories, together.”

𓇼 Leona Kingscholar

Leona casually tosses a small pouch onto your lap. Inside is a rare enchanted bracelet, beautifully crafted and faintly glowing with protective magic.

“Don’t get used to this” he mutters, eyes half-lidded. “But if you’re mine, I’d rather keep you safe. This thing wards off magic, and idiots.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a lazy hug and presses a kiss to your temple, his smirk softening just a little.

“Happy birthday, baby. May your year be peaceful… and full of naps with me,” he murmurs.

Then, with a low chuckle, he adds, “Just don’t expect me to share the blanket every time.”

𓇼 Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie hands you a bundle wrapped neatly in cloth, inside are homemade snacks, a budget-friendly charm, and a small plush that oddly resembles himself.

“I ain’t rich, but I got you stuff you’ll like” he says, scratching his cheek with a grin. “I made those treats myself, and the charm’s supposed to bring fortune. Oh, and that plush? Thought you might want a mini version of me around.”

His eyes sparkle as he leans in a little closer. “Happy birthday, seriously. I hope you get everything you want, especially me, heh.”

Then he nudges your side with a wink. “Just don’t forget to share the snacks, yeah?”

𓇼 Jack Howl

Jack offers you a watch with your initials carefully engraved on the back. He holds it out with both hands, looking just a little flustered.

“You’re always on the move” he says. “Thought this might help you keep track of time… and, uh, never be late again.”

He glances away, cheeks tinged red, but his voice stays steady. “Happy birthday. May this year help you grow stronger, physically and emotionally. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Then, after a pause, he gently clasps the watch onto your wrist himself. “You’re important to me… so don’t go rushing ahead without me, alright?”

𓇼 Azul Ashengrotto

After your private dinner in the Mostro Lounge, Azul hands you a velvet box, inside rests a stunning pearl necklace, enchanted to shimmer gently when touched by water

“I procured this with the utmost care” he says, his tone soft and deliberate. “Beauty should be matched with elegance, something truly worthy of you.”

He stands, stepping closer to clasp the necklace around your neck himself, fingertips lingering for just a second longer.

Azul leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before whispering,

“Happy birthday, my pearl. May your ambitions unfold perfectly, and may I remain by your side through every triumph and every quiet moment.”

He brushes his thumb gently along your jaw with a smile. “Having you near is the most precious treasure of all.”

𓇼 Jade Leech

After dinner, Jade presents you with a glass terrarium filled with exotic, softly glowing moss. Beside it rests a personalized journal, your name elegantly embossed on the cover.

“This little world is ever-growing… much like you” he says with a calm smile. “I thought you’d enjoy watching it flourish, just as I enjoy watching you do the same.”

He steps closer, placing a hand over yours with quiet warmth. “Happy birthday. May each day bring discovery, peace, and just enough surprise to keep life interesting.”

Then, with a slight bow, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“And perhaps” he adds in a whisper, “you’ll let me remain a part of that ever-growing world of yours.”

𓇼 Floyd Leech

After enjoying the food Floyd proudly made for you, he suddenly shoves a huge plush toy into your arms, it looks exactly like him, with a little hat perched on its head.

“Hehe~ I got you this so you can hug something when I’m not around” he grins. “Not as good as the real thing though!”

Before you can even react, he pulls you into a tight, almost bone-crushing hug and nuzzles into your neck.

“Happy birthday, shrimpy! Hope this year’s fun, weird, and totally unforgettable, with me causing all kinds of chaos, of course!”

He plants a quick kiss on your cheek and adds with a wink, “And if you ever miss me, just squeeze that plush. I’ll know.”

𓇼 Kalim Al-Asim

After enjoying a grand dinner with Kalim, he excitedly drags in a huge box. Inside is a handpicked collection of colorful clothes, trinkets, and sweets from his homeland.

“I wanted to share my culture with you!” he beams. “You make every day brighter, so I picked gifts that reminded me of sunshine and joy, just like you!”

He claps his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Happy birthday! I wish you boundless joy, adventure, and love! Let’s make so many more memories together!”

Then he hugs you tightly and adds with a warm laugh, “Next time, I’m bringing a camel too, just wait!”

𓇼 Jamil Viper

After sharing a quiet dinner on the balcony he personally set up, Jamil hands you a carefully wrapped box. Inside is a soft scarf and a pair of earrings he made himself, with charms inspired by his homeland.

“Something practical… and a little personal” he says, his voice low. “The scarf will keep you warm. The earrings? I thought you’d like something that reminds you of my home, since you’re my home now too.”

He lowers his gaze, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Happy birthday. I hope your path this year is steady and fulfilling… and that I get to walk beside you more often.”

Then he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“And if you ever get cold, don’t just wear the scarf, call me instead.”

𓇼 Vil Schoenheit

After a luxurious dinner at a fine restaurant, Vil presents you with a beautifully wrapped box. Inside are custom-made skincare products he developed just for you, a unique perfume crafted to suit your natural scent, and a delicate pressed flower sealed in glass.

“Perfection deserves to be preserved” he says gracefully. “These will help maintain your glow… though, truthfully, you shine regardless.”

He takes your hand gently and kisses it, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Happy birthday, my beautiful darling. May the year ahead reflect your inner brilliance, and may I be your mirror, always.”

Then, with a soft smile, he adds, “And if ever you forget how stunning you are, I’ll be here to remind you, every single day.”

𓇼 Rook Hunt

Rook presents you with a magical music box. As you open it, a sweet melody begins to play. Inside, you find a small handwritten note, “Mon amour éternel.”

“I made it myself” Rook says with a gleam in his eyes. “Inspired by your laughter… and your smile. Art must be cherished and you, my dear, are a living masterpiece.”

He gently kisses your cheek, the music still playing behind his words.

“Joyeux anniversaire. May life sing you a song of wonder this year, and may you never dance alone.”

Then he places a hand over your heart with a tender smile. “As long as I breathe, you’ll never be without an audience to admire your light.”

𓇼 Epel Felmier

After sharing a simple but cozy dinner at Ramshackle, Epel shyly hands you a small wooden box, carefully carved with patterns.

Inside, you find a handmade wooden comb, a small bottle of apple blossom oil, and a charm shaped like a apple. The scent is faint but sweet, like spring in Harveston.

“I know it ain’t fancy” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I made the box myself, and the oil’s from home. Thought you might like something real... something that smells like where I’m from.”

“Happy birthday” he says, then leans in to kiss your cheek quickly before pulling back. “I hope this year makes you stronger and happier and if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll be right there, alright?”

Then, in a softer voice, he adds, “You’re important to me… and I don’t say that kinda thing lightly.”

𓇼 Idia Shroud

After a cozy night in, spent gaming together in his room, Idia quietly rolls his chair over to you and pushes a sleek, gift-wrapped box into your hands, avoiding eye contact the whole time.

Inside is a custom-made handheld gaming console, the shell in your favorite colors and your initials engraved on the back. When you power it on, the welcome screen shows pixel art versions of both of you, standing under a starry sky. The message reads, "Player 2, press start. Let’s keep playing through life together."

“I-It’s not a big deal or anything” Idia mumbles, tugging his hoodie lower over his face. “I programmed the interface myself and installed all your favorite games. And… there’s a little surprise ending in one of them, b-but you’ll have to find it.”

He peeks up at you through his hair, lips twitching into a shy smile. “Happy birthday. I hope this year’s low-stress, high-score, and… filled with co-op nights. With me.”

Then, with a sudden spark of boldness, he leans in and plants a quick, awkward kiss on your cheek, before wheeling away with a flustered “Don’t look at me!!” as his hair flames pink.

𓇼 Ortho Shroud (platonic)

Ortho zooms up to you, “Happy birthday!” he says with excitement, holding out a neatly wrapped box. “I made you a personalized playlist, a mood tracker, and a virtual scrapbook of our best memories!”

The screen on his chest flickers, showing clips of your adventures together, laughing, exploring, gaming.

“I may be a machine, but my feelings for you are real” he says earnestly. “You’re my best friend, and I’m so glad I get to celebrate your special day.”

He floats up to give you a warm, gentle hug. “Let’s keep making happy data, together!”

𓇼 Malleus Draconia

After a quiet dinner under the stars at a table Malleus had prepared in the garden, he presents you with a small emerald box. Inside rests a silver ring, shaped like intertwining thorns and stars.

“I forged this with my own magic” he says gently. “A symbol of protection… and my devotion. May it guard you, even when I cannot be near.”

He takes your hand with deliberate care, slipping the ring onto your finger with a soft smile. “It suits you” he murmurs, his gaze warm and unwavering.

“Happy birthday, my beloved. May this year be filled with wonder, and may I stand beside you through every step of it.”

Then, slowly and reverently, he leans in and places a tender kiss upon your forehead. “You are, and always will be, my treasure.”

𓇼 Lilia Vanrouge

After a lively home-cooked dinner (questionably edible, but made with love), Lilia surprises you with a music box, playing a soft lullaby he used to hum in his youth.

“I may be old, but I still remember how to make birthdays special” he chuckles, handing it to you with a wink. “This tune once brought me peace during long nights… now, I hope it does the same for you.”

He floats closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Happy birthday, my little bat. May your days be long, full of laughter, and may I be there to tease you through every single one.”

𓇼 Silver

After a peaceful dinner, Silver hands you a pouch. Inside is a small dream charm with a carved moon and feather.

“It’s to protect your dreams,” he says quietly. “I made it myself. You always worry about others… so this is to help you rest easy.”

He gently ties it onto your bag before leaning in to kiss your temple, slow and sincere.

“Happy birthday. I hope this year brings you calm mornings, safe nights, and someone to share them with. If you’ll allow it… I’d like that someone to be me.”

𓇼 Sebek Zigvolt

After a formal but heartfelt dinner he insisted on preparing exactly “to standard,” Sebek presents you with a polished brooch shaped like a dragon crest, embedded with green and gold stones.

“This is not just decorative!” he declares proudly. “It’s enchanted for minor defense, and symbolizes strength and loyalty. I had it crafted to honor your worth.”

Then, quieter and a bit flustered, he clears his throat and steps closer. “Happy birthday. May your days be noble, unwavering… and shared with someone who will protect you at any cost.”

With a sharp breath, he leans in and places a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek. “Which, of course, would be me!”

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷

mwehehe happy bday to me!

[baby-yongbok]

Stray Heart: Rent-a-Boyfriend | Opening

SYSTEM ONLINE... [Welcome back, Chili.] [You have 8 active boyfriends and 113 unread customer thirst submissions.] Initializing matchmaking protocol...

The lights in the Stray Hearts lounge flicker to life as the holographic interface flares above the round table.

“Chili, tell me again why I’m being rented out like a luxury car?” Chan leans back in his seat, brows raised, already overwhelmed by the growing number of submission notifications on his tablet .

The AI buzzes cheerfully from the overhead speaker. “Because you're luxury, Christopher. High value, limited edition, and people cry when they have to return you.”

Changbin snorts from across the room, setting down a protein bar on a surface with a clear DO NOT TOUCH sign over it. “What if someone actually falls in love, though?”

The system pauses, Chili’s hologram shifts, “Then I charge them an emotional damage fee. You are not built for monogamy. It's in the fine print.”

“Good to know,” Han hums, spinning in his chair. “What’s my official role again?”

“Chaos distribution,” Chili replies, deadpan. “Displaying emotional terrorism while remaining completely clueless to the consequences.”

Han gives a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“This entire system is flawed,” Seungmin mutters, leaning back with legs crossed as he scrolls through his mock profile on the tablet in his lap .

“And yet here you are,” Chili answers sweetly. “Booked out through the weekend. Would you like me to cancel this Friday’s paycheck? Please confirm.” Seungmin scoffs, glaring at the hologram and clicking decline on the pop up on his tablet.

“I didn’t think so.” Chili’s projection shifts again.

Hyunjin looks up from the window he’s been using as a mirror, carefully reapplying his lip tint. “Can I bring flowers to my dates?”

“You are required to,” Chili confirms. “you also have the option of a handwritten poem, cologne that you can't wash out, and twelve condoms of any brand listed on your tablet.”

“Why are magnums not listed?” Chan asks and the system doesn’t miss a beat. 

“None of you need them.” The silence that follows is paired with at least four glares to the interface above the table. She stares back. It’s true. 

Felix bounces onto the couch beside Changbin, unfazed and puppy-eyed. “What if someone cries?”

“Then hold them, praise them, rail them gently, and bake apology cookies. A coupon code will be sent to their email for their next purchase.”

Lee Know raises a brow from where he lounges, legs kicked over the arm of his chair. “Do I actually have to be nice?”

Chili doesn’t shift this time. The interface stays facing Changbin who now has Han in a ‘practice headlock’ as he called it. “Absolutely not. In fact, I strongly recommend the opposite. The more you glare, the faster they fold.”

Jeongin strolls in late, ruffling his hair. “Do I get paid for this?”

“In orgasms? Yes. In money? No. In power? Potentially. Please hold any further questions. Dispatch will commence in twenty seconds.”

“Seconds?” They ask in unison, sitting up straight just as a new pop up displays on their tablets.

LOADING CLIENT INTERFACE...Welcome, hopeless romantics. You’re here because you made a questionable decision. We’re here to make it worse.

Event Taglist: @bunnies-only @chrisbangsass @puccaaak @beal-o @jinniesgirl

All Content Taglist: @wealwayskeepfighting @whokno-ows @stay-tiny-things @yaorzu-blog @krayzieestay @nxtt2-u  @armystay89 @kayleefriedchicken @compersian  @kibs-and-bits @whokno-ows @poppet05 @estella-novella @unbel1ve4ble @pixie-felix @catsforlife6864 @lisaskz @chloe-elise-2000 @jaeminie-cricket @gingerrracha @wickedbutlovely @lolareadsimagines @h00d-tr4sh @felixleftchickennugget @jeyelleohe @hanjiyunho @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @iminc0gnito - @dreamingaboutjisung @lixiluvs @lghtdarling @teddy-stay , @baconcupcakes123,, @soulsbbg , @stay-bi , @yzsqu , @lghtdarling @joonkki @my_neurodivergent_world @tricky-ritz @linospetsitter @0sunshinecryptid0 @miyaluvvsyou @Chansfavoriterubberducky @Felixleftchickennugget @babygay2005 @stellasays45 @corgilover20 @bx-lov3 @myrkhive @kttb @rockstarkkami @cowboylikemalika @angellcvkes @Caitlyn98s @camryn-haitani @Felixsonlyrealwife @binnie-c @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @bbokarismeow @hannahlue @nctdreamchaser @tangerineastronaut @lezleeferguson-120 @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @staytinyluva @iyenabi @sammhisphere @hhjlvr @geni-627 @thvsuga @staytinyluva @breakmeoff @broken-glowsticks @mariteez @f3lix-l33 @felixsluvrr

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There Were Always Enshittifiers

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in DC TONIGHT (Mar 4), and in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

My latest Locus column is "There Were Always Enshittifiers." It's a history of personal computing and networked communications that traces the earliest days of the battle for computers as tools of liberation and computers as tools for surveillance, control and extraction:

https://locusmag.com/2025/03/commentary-cory-doctorow-there-were-always-enshittifiers/

The occasion for this piece is the publication of my latest Martin Hench novel, a standalone book set in the early 1980s called "Picks and Shovels":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

The MacGuffin of Picks and Shovels is a "weird PC" company called Fidelity Computing, owned by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest, and an orthodox rabbi. It sounds like the setup for a joke, but the punchline is deadly serious: Fidelity Computing is a pyramid selling cult that preys on the trust and fellowship of faith groups to sell the dreadful Fidelity 3000 PC and its ghastly peripherals.

You see, Fidelity's products are booby-trapped. It's not merely that they ship with programs whose data-files can't be read by apps on any other system – that's just table stakes. Fidelity's got a whole bag of tricks up its sleeve – for example, it deliberately damages a specific sector on every floppy disk it ships. The drivers for its floppy drive initialize any read or write operation by checking to see if that sector can be read. If it can, the computer refuses to recognize the disk. This lets the Reverend Sirs (as Fidelity's owners style themselves) run a racket where they sell these deliberately damaged floppies at a 500% markup, because regular floppies won't work on the systems they lure their parishioners into buying.

Or take the Fidelity printer: it's just a rebadged Oki­data ML-80, the workhorse tractor feed printer that led the market for years. But before Fidelity ships this printer to its customers, they fit it with new tractor feed sprockets whose pins are slightly more widely spaced than the standard 0.5" holes on the paper you can buy in any stationery store. That way, Fidelity can force its customers to buy the custom paper that they exclusively peddle – again, at a massive markup.

Needless to say, printing with these wider sprocket holes causes frequent jams and puts a serious strain on the printer's motors, causing them to burn out at a high rate. That's great news – for Fidelity Computing. It means they get to sell you more overpriced paper so you can reprint the jobs ruined by jams, and they can also sell you their high-priced, exclusive repair services when your printer's motors quit.

Perhaps you're thinking, "OK, but I can just buy a normal Okidata printer and use regular, cheap paper, right?" Sorry, the Reverend Sirs are way ahead of you: they've reversed the pinouts on their printers' serial ports, and a normal printer won't be able to talk to your Fidelity 3000.

If all of this sounds familiar, it's because these are the paleolithic ancestors of today's high-tech lock-in scams, from HP's $10,000/gallon ink to Apple and Google's mobile app stores, which cream a 30% commission off of every dollar collected by an app maker. What's more, these ancient, weird misfeatures have their origins in the true history of computing, which was obsessed with making the elusive, copy-proof floppy disk.

This Quixotic enterprise got started in earnest with Bill Gates' notorious 1976 "open letter to hobbyists" in which the young Gates furiously scolds the community of early computer hackers for its scientific ethic of publishing, sharing and improving the code that they all wrote:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Open_Letter_to_Hobbyists

Gates had recently cloned the BASIC programming language for the popular Altair computer. For Gates, his act of copying was part of the legitimate progress of technology, while the copying of his colleagues, who duplicated Gates' Altair BASIC, was a shameless act of piracy, destined to destroy the nascent computing industry:

As the majority of hobbyists must be aware, most of you steal your software. Hardware must be paid for, but software is something to share. Who cares if the people who worked on it get paid?

Needless to say, Gates didn't offer a royalty to John Kemeny and Thomas Kurtz, the programmers who'd invented BASIC at Dartmouth College in 1963. For Gates – and his intellectual progeny – the formula was simple: "When I copy you, that's progress. When you copy me, that's piracy." Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

For would-be ex-pirate admirals, Gates's ideology was seductive. There was just one fly in the ointment: computers operate by copying. The only way a computer can run a program is to copy it into memory – just as the only way your phone can stream a video is to download it to its RAM ("streaming" is a consensus hallucination – every stream is a download, and it has to be, because the internet is a data-transmission network, not a cunning system of tubes and mirrors that can make a picture appear on your screen without transmitting the file that contains that image).

Gripped by this enshittificatory impulse, the computer industry threw itself headfirst into the project of creating copy-proof data, a project about as practical as making water that's not wet. That weird gimmick where Fidelity floppy disks were deliberately damaged at the factory so the OS could distinguish between its expensive disks and the generic ones you bought at the office supply place? It's a lightly fictionalized version of the copy-protection system deployed by Visicalc, a move that was later publicly repudiated by Visicalc co-founder Dan Bricklin, who lamented that it confounded his efforts to preserve his software on modern systems and recover the millions of data-files that Visicalc users created:

http://www.bricklin.com/robfuture.htm

The copy-protection industry ran on equal parts secrecy and overblown sales claims about its products' efficacy. As a result, much of the story of this doomed effort is lost to history. But back in 2017, a redditor called Vadermeer unearthed a key trove of documents from this era, in a Goodwill Outlet store in Seattle:

https://www.reddit.com/r/VintageApple/comments/5vjsow/found_internal_apple_memos_about_copy_protection/

Vaderrmeer find was a Apple Computer binder from 1979, documenting the company's doomed "Software Security from Apple's Friends and Enemies" (SSAFE) project, an effort to make a copy-proof floppy:

https://archive.org/details/AppleSSAFEProject

The SSAFE files are an incredible read. They consist of Apple's best engineers beavering away for days, cooking up a new copy-proof floppy, which they would then hand over to Apple co-founder and legendary hardware wizard Steve Wozniak. Wozniak would then promptly destroy the copy-protection system, usually in a matter of minutes or hours. Wozniak, of course, got the seed capital for Apple by defeating AT&T's security measures, building a "blue box" that let its user make toll-free calls and peddling it around the dorms at Berkeley:

https://512pixels.net/2018/03/woz-blue-box/

Woz has stated that without blue boxes, there would never have been an Apple. Today, Apple leads the charge to restrict how you use your devices, confining you to using its official app store so it can skim a 30% vig off every dollar you spend, and corralling you into using its expensive repair depots, who love to declare your device dead and force you to buy a new one. Every pirate wants to be an admiral!

https://www.vice.com/en/article/tim-cook-to-investors-people-bought-fewer-new-iphones-because-they-repaired-their-old-ones/

Revisiting the early PC years for Picks and Shovels isn't just an excuse to bust out some PC nostalgiacore set-dressing. Picks and Shovels isn't just a face-paced crime thriller: it's a reflection on the enshittificatory impulses that were present at the birth of the modern tech industry.

But there is a nostalgic streak in Picks and Shovels, of course, represented by the other weird PC company in the tale. Computing Freedom is a scrappy PC startup founded by three women who came up as sales managers for Fidelity, before their pangs of conscience caused them to repent of their sins in luring their co-religionists into the Reverend Sirs' trap.

These women – an orthodox lesbian whose family disowned her, a nun who left her order after discovering the liberation theology movement, and a Mormon woman who has quit the church over its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment – have set about the wozniackian project of reverse-engineering every piece of Fidelity hardware and software, to make compatible products that set Fidelity's caged victims free.

They're making floppies that work with Fidelity drives, and drives that work with Fidelity's floppies. Printers that work with Fidelity computers, and adapters so Fidelity printers will work with other PCs (as well as resprocketing kits to retrofit those printers for standard paper). They're making file converters that allow Fidelity owners to read their data in Visicalc or Lotus 1-2-3, and vice-versa.

In other words, they're engaged in "adversarial interoperability" – hacking their own fire-exits into the burning building that Fidelity has locked its customers inside of:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

This was normal, back then! There were so many cool, interoperable products and services around then, from the Bell and Howell "Black Apple" clones:

https://forum.vcfed.org/index.php?threads%2Fbell-howell-apple-ii.64651%2F

to the amazing copy-protection cracking disks that traveled from hand to hand, so the people who shelled out for expensive software delivered on fragile floppies could make backups against the inevitable day that the disks stopped working:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bit_nibbler

Those were wild times, when engineers pitted their wits against one another in the spirit of Steve Wozniack and SSAFE. That era came to a close – but not because someone finally figured out how to make data that you couldn't copy. Rather, it ended because an unholy coalition of entertainment and tech industry lobbyists convinced Congress to pass the Digital Millennium Copyright Act in 1998, which made it a felony to "bypass an access control":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2016/07/section-1201-dmca-cannot-pass-constitutional-scrutiny

That's right: at the first hint of competition, the self-described libertarians who insisted that computers would make governments obsolete went running to the government, demanding a state-backed monopoly that would put their rivals in prison for daring to interfere with their business model. Plus ça change: today, their intellectual descendants are demanding that the US government bail out their "anti-state," "independent" cryptocurrency:

https://www.citationneeded.news/issue-78/

In truth, the politics of tech has always contained a faction of "anti-government" millionaires and billionaires who – more than anything – wanted to wield the power of the state, not abolish it. This was true in the mainframe days, when companies like IBM made billions on cushy defense contracts, and it's true today, when the self-described "Technoking" of Tesla has inserted himself into government in order to steer tens of billions' worth of no-bid contracts to his Beltway Bandit companies:

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/lawmakers-question-musk-influence-over-verizon-faa-contract-2025-02-28/

The American state has always had a cozy relationship with its tech sector, seeing it as a way to project American soft power into every corner of the globe. But Big Tech isn't the only – or the most important – US tech export. Far more important is the invisible web of IP laws that ban reverse-engineering, modding, independent repair, and other activities that defend American tech exports from competitors in its trading partners.

Countries that trade with the US were arm-twisted into enacting laws like the DMCA as a condition of free trade with the USA. These laws were wildly unpopular, and had to be crammed through other countries' legislatures:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/15/radical-extremists/#sex-pest

That's why Europeans who are appalled by Musk's Nazi salute have to confine their protests to being loudly angry at him, selling off their Teslas, and shining lights on Tesla factories:

https://www.malaymail.com/news/money/2025/01/24/heil-tesla-activists-protest-with-light-projection-on-germany-plant-after-musks-nazi-salute-video/164398

Musk is so attention-hungry that all this is as apt to please him as anger him. You know what would really hurt Musk? Jailbreaking every Tesla in Europe so that all its subscription features – which represent the highest-margin line-item on Tesla's balance-sheet – could be unlocked by any local mechanic for €25. That would really kick Musk in the dongle.

The only problem is that in 2001, the US Trade Rep got the EU to pass the EU Copyright Directive, whose Article 6 bans that kind of reverse-engineering. The European Parliament passed that law because doing so guaranteed tariff-free access for EU goods exported to US markets.

Enter Trump, promising a 25% tariff on European exports.

The EU could retaliate here by imposing tit-for-tat tariffs on US exports to the EU, which would make everything Europeans buy from America 25% more expensive. This is a very weird way to punish the USA.

On the other hand, not that Trump has announced that the terms of US free trade deals are optional (for the US, at least), there's no reason not to delete Article 6 of the EUCD, and all the other laws that prevent European companies from jailbreaking iPhones and making their own App Stores (minus Apple's 30% commission), as well as ad-blockers for Facebook and Instagram's apps (which would zero out EU revenue for Meta), and, of course, jailbreaking tools for Xboxes, Teslas, and every make and model of every American car, so European companies could offer service, parts, apps, and add-ons for them.

When Jeff Bezos launched Amazon, his war-cry was "your margin is my opportunity." US tech companies have built up insane margins based on the IP provisions required in the free trade treaties it signed with the rest of the world.

It's time to delete those IP provisions and throw open domestic competition that attacks the margins that created the fortunes of oligarchs who sat behind Trump on the inauguration dais. It's time to bring back the indomitable hacker spirit that the Bill Gateses of the world have been trying to extinguish since the days of the "open letter to hobbyists." The tech sector built a 10 foot high wall around its business, then the US government convinced the rest of the world to ban four-metre ladders. Lift the ban, unleash the ladders, free the world!

In the same way that futuristic sf is really about the present, Picks and Shovels, an sf novel set in the 1980s, is really about this moment.

I'm on tour with the book now – if you're reading this today (Mar 4) and you're in DC, come see me tonight with Matt Stoller at 6:30PM at the Cleveland Park Library:

https://www.loyaltybookstores.com/picksnshovels

And if you're in Richmond, VA, come down to Fountain Bookshop and catch me with Lee Vinsel tomorrow (Mar 5) at 7:30PM:

https://fountainbookstore.com/events/1795820250305

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/04/object-permanence/#picks-and-shovels

[heeology]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑡˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ | p.sh

synopsis → after a not-so-well interview for a nearby coffee shop you applied to, you were surprised to see you got the job offer. despite what you may have expected, being a barista isn’t as easy going as you initially thought it would be. your manager isn’t really one to be enthusiastic when lending a helping hand, and no matter how many times you try to get on his good side, you can tell he would much rather sketch in his sketchbook (or even mop the floors) than engage in a conversation with you. one of the only times he does interact with you is to help you not make horrible latte art, but little did you know, being so bad at something could end up paying off so well.

feat. → liz (ive), hyunwoo (xikers)

genre → romance, college au, strangers (and a hint of enemies) to lovers

pairing → barista&artmajor!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings → none!!

w.c. → 12.7k

a/n → ik it’s been a while since i’ve posted smth, but it’s been hard getting inspiration to actually write. i started this fic a while ago (a little over a month ago) and i planned on having it finished in maybe a week and then i just…gave up. I only got the motivation to finish it today and i’m rlly glad i did. thx for reading and i hope you enjoy(ed) !!

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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-

Do people still bring resumes to interviews? You weren’t exactly sure, but nonetheless, you printed yours out and bought one of those folders with the clear plastic page in the front to put it in. It may be a bit formal, but this coffee shop is quite nice. A mix of a rustic and modern aesthetic, loomed with plants, and open sunlight through big windows; almost as if it was a botanical garden turned into a cafe. Your foot tapped softly against the wood floor, a failed attempt to try and calm your nerves as you look around while in your seat by one of the windows. The smell of coffee brewing, caramel, and pastries serves as a great distraction to your racing mind until you see–who you presume—to be the manager from his professional and stoic demeanor. 

You stand up, thinking he would take you somewhere else for the interview, but are surprised when he just sits in front of you, not even shaking your hand. You slowly sit back down, clearing your throat as he looks at you with one of the most uninterested expressions you’ve ever seen on a person. However, you won’t lie: he’s stunning. Fair skin, moles looking as though they were intricately placed by an angel themself, broad shoulders, even his facial proportions are perfect; is he even real? He crosses his arms, his gaze not wavering.

“Are you here for the interview?” he asks in a tone that sounds as though you are inconveniencing him.

“Yes- Yes, I am.” you say as you sit up straighter, snapping out of your daze. You look away a bit, trying not to get too embarrassed, and you pass him your resume on the table with a smile.

He eyes the resume, looking down at it for a split second before looking back at you. No expression changes whatsoever, which is starting to unsettle you. You shift a bit in your seat, and if it wasn’t for the soft noise of the chair moving a bit, you could have sworn you heard him sigh. He uncrosses his arms, sitting up a bit more in his chair. He pushes your resume back towards you before resting his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together, the sleeves of his white button up pushed up and past his forearms. 

“You didn’t need to bring a copy of your resume, I have it on file. That’s what online applications are for.” he says in the same tone with a hint of scrutiny.

You swallow and laugh nervously, trying to relieve the tension of the atmosphere, while also trying not to let yourself want to curl up and die. “Oh, um…right, of course.” you say, softly.

This time, you do hear his sigh as he takes a pen from his apron and grabs the clipboard that you had failed to notice was on the table. “Your resume says you have customer service experience and that your past job was in retail; how do you plan to adjust to the shift in environments? Or better yet, how will your experience in retail help you with this job in the food industry?” he asks, and you can’t quite tell if he’s just being professional or simply doesn’t care.

“Well, I know the two have different sets of responsibility, but-”

“Yes, which is why I asked the question.”

You sit there for a second, stunned. You haven’t done an interview in a while, but is this how they’re conducted now or is this guy just an ass? You try not to let it bother you as you swallow again. “As I was saying, experience in customer experience-”

“Experience in customer experience?” he raises an eyebrow and clicks his pen as he starts writing. “Not exactly a coherent or well-thought sentence.”

“Regardless,” you say in the most cheerful tone you can manage, “I believe I will be able to apply my knowledge on customer experience to this job, even with the change in responsibilities. I know what is to be expected of the position and have been able to handle tasks, and meet goals, as well as expectations at my previous job wonderfully; my references listed can attest to that. Customer experience is universal, and I am confident that I will be able to provide and accommodate a pleasant experience for the customers here.”

He continues writing, as if he wasn’t even listening in the first place. He is quiet for a moment and then clicks his pen, flipping the page on the clipboard. You sit there awkwardly as you wait for him to ask another question. “Shall I…tell you about myself, perhaps?” you offer, hoping he’ll see this as a sign of initiative or something.

“I don’t believe in asking that question. Or asking what your strengths and weaknesses are. This isn’t your first job, so there’s no need to coddle you with those types of questions, what I would rather know is what your work ethic is like since you have experience. Why are you leaving your previous job?”

You aren’t sure how to respond. Well, you know the answer, but you aren’t sure how to respond to him. Did you do something wrong on your application? Did you sit at the wrong table or something else absolutely mundane to tick him off? Clearly not since this was the one that had the clipboard. “Truthfully, I want to work in a different environment; I want to gain experience from different jobs, and this one is one that I felt I would be able to do well after going over the job description.”

“Doesn’t exactly paint you as a reliable employee.” you hear him mutter. You actually have to hold back from scoffing as he keeps writing on his stupid clipboard. “This position requires you to work behind the register, serving and making some of the pastries, making drinks–of course–, as well as cleaning the tables, displays, floors, etc. Besides working behind the register, what aspects would you say you are confident in or could properly execute?”

You give him a sarcastic smile, trying not to make it too obvious, “I was expected to clean up displays and racks at my previous job; organizing the product, dusting–”

“This isn’t a custodial job, any experience with baking? Drink making? Even if it was volunteer work, as a hobby, anything?” he says without sparing you a glance, reading his clipboard.

Did he not just talk about cleaning as one of the expectations? Seriously, what is his problem? “I’ve made boxed cake, brownies, and cookies from a mix. And when I was in High School, I made coffee from the coffee pot in my kitchen.” you reply, curtly. 

He doesn’t respond, writing some more on his paper. “Reliability?” is all he asks.

“Like, what days I can work?” you ask, not sure what he is specifically asking.

“No.” he says flatly, “How was your reliability at your old job?”

“I wasn’t ever late, I clocked in around ten minutes before my shift, I gave at least a month’s notice on days I would not be able to work, I rarely called out, I always worked my scheduled days, I-”

He holds up his pen, cutting you off, and then continues writing. He doesn’t say anything and you frown, taking a guess that he only did that to stop you from talking. “Your resume says you’re in college, how will this affect your reliability?”

“Well, I only have a year left, and my schedule remains consistent. I will give ample notice on any changes that may be made, but relatively, I like to keep my class schedule the same.”

He doesn’t interrupt or say anything, he just keeps writing. He clicks his pen, tapping it against the clipboard for a second before flipping the page again. Maybe a minute passes before he speaks again, “Do you prefer tasks with teamwork or completing them independently?”

You think for a moment, “Both. I mean that honestly. I know there are going to be certain tasks that are expected to be done independently to show what I am capable of doing, what responsibilities I can handle that way you can determine if I could take on any other challenges–”

“I don’t need you explaining why I ask certain questions, I know why.”

You feel your smile twitch, just slightly, in annoyance. “I don’t mind either. If I feel I can handle a project or assignment on my own, I will complete it. If not, then I have the resources to work with a team and complete the project with help as well as have the opportunity to learn from others.”

He writes, in a much shorter span of time, before clicking his pen and finally looking up at you. “Thank you for coming in.” he says, almost as if he was forced to say it, before standing up and walking away, pushing the chair in before he does. You sit there for a moment, dumbfounded, looking around a bit, wondering if anyone else just bared witness to this fiasco of an interview. You get up, pushing the chair in, taking your resume and walking to the door, throwing it in the trash before you leave.

-

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭, 

𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫! 𝐖𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟎 𝐚.𝐦. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠!

You had to re-read the email again because you couldn’t believe it the first three times you’ve looked it over. You could’ve sworn the interview was a disaster and now this? You weren’t entirely sure if you were going to accept, afterall, the manager seemed like a dick. But, this job pays four dollars more than your current job, which would honestly help a lot. So, in the end, you decide to give it a try. You respond to the email, accepting the offer and soon enough, Wednesday rolls around.

You step back into the coffee shop, it surprisingly not being too busy, before walking over to the counter. You smile a bit at the girl behind the counter and she smiles back.

“Hi, welcome in, what can I get for you today? We have a new lavender tea and latte with lavender foam art if you are interested in trying either of those this morning.” she greets.

“I’m actually here for training?” you say, not meaning to sound uncertain, “It starts at ten, but I came in a bit early anyway.”

“Oh!” she smiles a bit more, genuinely looking happy to see you. “Sunghoon told us someone new would be starting today. I’m Liz,” she says, pointing to her name tag and laughing softly, “But let me take you to his office.” Liz says as she steps out from behind the counter.

“Thank you.” you say, softly, happy that there is someone so nice here. She leads you towards the back and then stops in front of a door that reads: 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿 | 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸

“Good luck. He can be a little tough” she whispers before walking away.

You let out a soft sigh, mentally preparing for having to deal with someone so difficult so early in the morning, and then knock on his door. You don’t hear anything, so you knock again, and a long moment of silence passes, so you raise your hand to knock again.

“Are you coming in or just going to continue to knock?” you hear him say from behind the door.

You roll your eyes and open the door, “May I come in?” you ask as you peer inside.

“Obviously.” he says in that same tone. You put on the best smile you can before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. You walk over to take a seat in front of his desk and he looks at you like you have something on your face. “I suppose we should review the dress code first.” he says as though he expected you to know the handbook cover to cover. 

You look down at your outfit, which you thought was appropriate: a nice sweater with some jeans and clean sneakers. This was a barista gig, afterall, so you assumed this was okay. “Is this not appropriate–?”

“The dress code is either button ups or blouses in: white, black, or beige. Slacks or fitted jeans in the same colors. You may wear skirts, in the same colors, and they must be knee length or no shorter than an inch from your knee. Black shoes of any kind; no open toe shoes, however. Hair must be tied up and gloves must be worn when handling or preparing food. I will give you a pass this time since it is your first day, but next time, you will be expected to dress accordingly.” he says as he shuffles through some papers on his desk.

“That is…wow…” you say, kind of surprised by the strictness of the dress code at a coffee shop, well, besides the gloves, of course. 

“Is that going to be a problem?” he peers up at you.

“No– no, not at all.” you say quickly.

“Good. You’ll have to go through the training on the computer, fill out and sign some forms electronically, and then if you finish with some time to spare, we will start some basic training. I will also give you paper copies of the forms to take home as well as your name tag and a copy of the handbook.”

You nod a bit, staying quiet; honestly not wanting to somehow tick him off in any way. He stops rummaging through the papers on his desk and looks at you. He just…stares at you for a long moment. Not looking you up and down, just looking into your eyes, meeting your gaze. Surprisingly, you don’t find yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat. It helps a little that he’s attractive and his eyes are pretty, but still, you can feel how cold his gaze is despite it.

“Nothing to add?” he asks.

You open your mouth a bit to answer, but then find yourself stumped. “I look forward to it.” is what you feel is most appropriate to say. 

Silence and a stern gaze, that’s all he responds with. Then, he gives a short nod and looks back at his papers. “Aprons are also a part of the uniform, we don’t have specific ones, you just grab one and use it, but I know the others have their preferences.” he says, the last part somewhat under his breath.

You nod in response. “I’ve talked to Liz, she seems sweet.”

“She’s often late.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. “Oh…” is all you say in response.

He pauses, “But, yes, the customers like her.” he says, sounding as though he isn’t even sure he wants to admit that he knows that (or acknowledges it). He rummages some more and then finally looks up before standing from his seat. “Alright, I’ll take you to the computer in the backroom and you can fill out the forms there.” And to your surprise, you see him extend his hand, “Welcome.” he says plainly.

You smile a bit, maybe starting to think he’s warming up to you, and you take his hand in yours, shaking it. His hand is soft despite the calluses on his upper palm. He continues to look you in the eye, and yet somehow, this time it looks a bit softer, as if having your hand in his allowed a wave of calm to wash over him. But, it’s gone just as quickly as it comes, almost like once he realized how he felt, he had to stop it. He lets go of your hand and clears his throat.

“Happy to be here.” you say, softly.

He only nods in response, and you swear you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink, but you brush it off, figuring that maybe it’s just the lighting making it look that way.

-

It hasn’t exactly been an easy adjustment, to say the least. You mainly do closings on the days you can work, since Sunghoon has said that the openings are full. You don’t mind, but he has used this as an opportunity to criticize you on your cleaning techniques. To be fair, he trained you on what was expected, and yet, you can never seem to do it right. You warm the scones wrong, you make the matcha too strong, you burn the coffee beans, you don’t clean the utensils properly, you don’t mop the floors correctly. Anything and everything. 

You keep asking him how to do it correctly, and when he shows you (begrudgingly), you always have a confused look on your face because you could’ve sworn that’s how you were doing it in the first place. “Don’t act so surprised.” is all he would say whenever he saw you with that expression each and every time he would correct you. Which, to your dismay, was every single one of your shifts since he’s had to work closings with you to make sure you are fitting in just fine.

“He’s just like that,” one of your co-workers–Hyunwoo–says to you whenever Sunghoon has particularly been on your ass (which is almost every shift). “Although, I will say, you’ve gotten the hang of a lot of it so far. Just don’t take it to heart, it’s only been a month since you started.” he tries to reassure you while he steams some milk for a customer’s order.

You scoff softly, “And a long month it’s been.” you mutter as you put a lid on a tea, calling out the customer’s name at the counter, and telling them to have a good day. You go back to the register, him finishing the order with a soft laugh at your comment.

“He’s not a terrible boss.” he says before calling out the order and handing the cup and saucer to the customer with a smile.

“He’s just a terrible person.” you mumble under your breath.

He just smiles a bit and goes to stand at the register next to you. He shrugs, “He’s just that type of person, you know, tough exterior.”

“I think he’s just a douche–”

“Anyone in particular you’re talking about?” you hear Sunghoon ask behind you. You close your eyes, hoping you were just hearing things or maybe even that he’ll just go away if you pretend he’s not there. “Since you want to have ‘potty language’ on the floor, maybe you could take it to the actual restroom.” he says before rolling over a mop and bucket to you. 

You look at him, kind of an almost pleading look, but he just crosses his arms and looks back at you with that same unamused expression. You sigh, taking the handle of the mop and turning to roll it over to the bathroom. Hyunwoo looks at you sympathetically with a small smile as you walk away.

“She was talking about this guy in her class–” Hyunwoo tries to say to him.

“I know who she was talking about.” Sunghoon cuts him off before starting to walk back to his office, telling another employee to fill your spot while you clean the bathrooms.

-

The soft slosh of the mop and occasional sound of you ringing it out in the bucket fills the empty space of the coffee shop. The lights are dimmed and the usual bustle of customers and sounds of the coffee maker are done for the night as you and Sunghoon close. You can’t help but look at him occasionally; you feel you should apologize, but you’re not sure how. Afterall, it doesn’t always bode well when your manager overhears you calling them a douche. 

You slide the mop back and forth on the floor, just watching him sit at one of the tables with his sketchbook on the table as he scribbles with his pencil. So, each time you stop mopping to try and say something, you instead hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, disrupting your thoughts entirely. That’s all he’s been doing since the shop closed and he’s left you to do all of the cleaning thus far. You finish mopping, putting it away in the storage closet before wiping down the tables. You were two tables away from where he was sitting before he closed his sketchbook and stood up; as if your nearby presence is more than enough to annoy him. You watch him as you wipe down the table and he looks at the floor before pointing to a spot.

“You need to make sure you’re mopping under the tables entirely; customers sometimes spill or leave crumbs on the floor and ants are the last thing we need.” he critiques.

You look at the spot he was pointing to. “I did mop under all of the tables–”

“And I’m telling you to do it again.” he says before going to sit back at the table and continuing to sketch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, mumbling a string of insults as quietly as you can, while you go to the storage closet to get the mop. You mop the floor, again, before putting it back. Meanwhile, he wasn’t even paying attention to make sure you were doing what he said, just simply working on whatever he was doing in his sketchbook.

“Better?” you ask, trying not to sound as annoyed as you were.

He doesn’t even glance up at you, “Much.” he replies shortly while closing his sketchbook. He gets up to finish wiping down the other tables you didn’t get to.

You start taking the chairs and flipping them upside down before resting them on the tabletops. He starts to do the same until you both meet in the middle. You want to say something, an apology might be the way to go, and you figure this is your only chance to possibly have him listen to you.

“You draw a lot.” is what you end up saying. Not exactly what you had in mind, but maybe some casual conversation is a good way to start out and then you can work your way up to an apology once the mood lightens.

He doesn’t answer at first. “How perceptive.” is all he mutters back.

You bite your tongue, “Is that your major? Art? Or maybe Art History–?”

“Yes.” is all he says back, cutting your questions short.

You nod a bit and he quickly finishes his side of cleaning up the chairs. “My major is English.” you say, trying to get him to say something more back. He just grunts in response. “Some people say it’s boring or a major that doesn’t lead to anything, but I love some of the courses I take. Like, World Literature, for example. I loved reading some of Li Po’s poetry and some Epics, like the Odyssey–”

“Did you make sure to clean the dishes in the sink? Did you clean out the pastry warmer?” he asks as though you weren’t saying anything in the first place. “Any excess crumbs could just heat up and smoke during the next use.”

“Yes, I cleaned it.” you reply in the same astute tone he uses, sighing softly as you finish putting the chairs on the tables. You walk to the registers, starting to close one of them. He says to leave the registers for last since he considers it to be the easiest task to finish. As you count the money, you figure he went back to his office–like usual–and you would be closing both registers yourself. You finish closing them after a short while and then go to his office to turn in the money. 

He checks your count, writing it down and putting the money into a locked box. “You may clock out.” is all he says before sitting at his desk.

You don’t need to be told twice before leaving his office, taking off your apron, and hanging it in the backroom where the others are. You grab your stuff and hesitate while walking towards the door. You decide to walk back to his office, knocking twice, before opening the door. He doesn’t look up at you.

“Goodnight.” you say quietly, not wanting to startle him or anything.

“Is that what you came to say?” he asks, not paying any attention.

“Yes.” you say as if it was obvious. He stops and looks up at you. It’s quiet, and you feel like his gaze is on you for hours, as if he has you trapped. “And I want to say I’m sorry.” you add, wondering if that is what he was waiting to hear from you.

“Ah.” he says before looking back at whatever he was doing on his desk. “So that is what you really came to do; clear your conscience. Well, no need to worry, I’ve heard some former employees call me worse.”

“Former?” you ask, suddenly a little worried about the future of your job (if he lets you keep it).

“Yes, former. As in: people who used to work here. Past tense–”

“I know.” you say, this time, cutting him off. This makes him look up at you, and you swear you can see the tiniest flicker of surprise cross his face. “I wanted to apologize because I felt bad. Yes, it was incredibly unprofessional of me to say that, especially while on the floor, and I apologize for that. But I also wanted to apologize because I didn’t want to upset you; I didn’t mean to. I was just upset and I let it get the better of me. So, sure, I came here to clear my conscience if that’s the pessimistic way you want to look at it, but at least I can say I tried. And I also came to say goodnight because of common courtesy.” you say before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. As you walk towards the front door, you expect him to maybe come out and say something, but to no surprise at all: he doesn’t.

-

“Why do you keep doing it like that?” Sunghoon asks as though he is genuinely dumbfounded by your actions. 

He’s teaching you the basics on latte art since that’s the area you’ve been struggling with the most since you’ve started. You figured each time a customer asks for a latte with one of the specific designs the baristas are supposed to learn, that you could just bribe Hyunwoo to do it with the promise of sneaking him some chocolate chips from the kitchen. You knew that couldn’t last forever, but you were hoping. You try again, moving the pitcher to try and aerate the milk with the steam wand.

“No. Not like that.” he comes over to you and takes the pitcher from you, pouring the failed attempt down the drain. He pours more milk into the pitcher and hands it back to you. “Don’t submerge the wand first, you need to introduce the heat to the milk and create a thin layer of foam, first.” 

You take the pitcher, doing as he says, but the wand has gotten too hot, making a hissing sound, startling you. Before you can, he reacts quickly, taking your hand with the pitcher in his as he moves it away from the machine. You look at him, but his focus is on the machine, letting go of your hand as he tries to fix it. It was short-lived, but you felt the tingle of excitement in your stomach from his touch. You feel a small smile creep onto your lips as you chuckle softly. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before finishing with the machine.

“You find this funny?” he asks, sounding a bit exasperated.

You shrug as you dump out the milk. “I guess I’m just trying to find the joy in making mistakes.”

“What a ridiculous mindset.” he mutters. “The milk needs to reach around one hundred and fifty degrees fahrenheit and expands about twenty to thirty percent–”

“Am I supposed to figure out how to measure that off of the top of my head? Is there a chart with a frowny face to a smiley face on what the milk should look like that I need to follow?”

He turns to look at you, utterly unamused. You smile a bit, slightly laughing at your own joke, and he turns to look away from you. “Yes,” he mutters quietly, “It’s actually a coffee cup.” he says, sounding as though he wasn’t even making a joke at all. This makes you smile wider.

“Oh, okay, got it.” you say, trying to contain your excitement that he even responded to your joke with a joke. He hands you another pitcher and you take it, following through with the instructions he gave you. You try to create a thin layer of foam as you carefully watch the pitcher. “Am I doing it right? Is this good enough?” you ask, still watching the milk.

He doesn’t respond at first, which doesn’t seem off to you, you figure he’s just coming up with another critique to give you. Instead, however, he is lost in watching you concentrate. The way your gaze flicks a little between the wand and the milk, how you grip and hold the pitcher, just the way you seem so interested in what you’re doing; it captivates him entirely. You feel his hand softly move over yours, your breath hitching softly, while he guides the pitcher up a bit, submerging the wand. You can’t help but simply stare at his hand on top of yours, how he softly grips it, delicately directing your movements, and you swear, his thumb gently rubs back and forth over the side of your hand.

“You usually want to wait three to five seconds for the milk to aerate. That’s usually for lattes. Five to ten seconds for a cappuccino. Then, eight seconds for the milk to steam, like so.” he says softly, his body close beside you while he moves your hand just a bit more before letting go, his touch lingering on your hand. He clears his throat and you take the milk away from the wand. “Then,” he grabs the cup with the latte ready and you hand him the pitcher, “hold it just slightly above the latte at a slightly elevated position,” you watch as he demonstrates each action following what he is saying, “lowering it slightly while it starts to fill and be sure to keep the tip close, making sure it remains smooth and…there.” he finishes the design of the leaf. You nod your head. “Understand?” he asks as he sets the cup and pitcher down.

“I’ll definitely have to practice, but yes, I think I understand the basic concept.”

“Okay,” he motions to the machine, “Practice.” he crosses his arm and leans against the counter behind him.

You let out a short breath and start, making sure to remember his instructions. Once he doesn’t make any comments about the way you prepare the milk, you take that as a good sign. You try to make a tulip, having seen Hyunwoo do it, you felt it might be the easiest for you to try. You bite the bottom corner of your cheek as you concentrate, your eyebrows knitting together just slightly. The warm glow from the lights above the register casts down upon you delicately, almost as if it’s a spotlight, mimicking your soft and careful movements. He finds himself knitting his eyebrows together a bit, as well, confused as to what he should be focusing on: your work or you. It doesn’t turn out how you expect, not even close, and you set down the pitcher and the cup, looking up at him.

“Done?” you say, not sounding sure considering it’s not very good.

He comes over to look at it more closely. “It’s not a completely terrible leaf.” he says.

This, you will gladly take considering it is the nicest thing he’s said to you since you’ve started working here. “Yes, a leaf.” you say, trying to convince yourself (and him) that it was the choice of design you were going for.

“We can work on this more some other time; we’re out of this milk.” he says as he rinses and recycles the milk jug. You nod a bit, grateful he gave you this lesson anyway, which he said was only because your latte art skills were ‘below adequate’ and that the milk was expiring tomorrow, anyway. “You may go, I will close the registers.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. “Really?” you ask, a small smile on your face.

He glances at you before clearing his throat and looking back at the register. He gives a soft hum in response and you go to grab your stuff. You walk over to the door and open it a bit before looking back at him. “Thank you, for the lessons and letting me go…” you look at the clock, “Three minutes early.”

He just hums again. You nod a bit and open the door more to leave.

“Goodnight.” he says in a flat tone.

You smile, “Goodnight.” you say back before leaving, the bell above the door chiming on your way out.

-

“Does he always come in on his days off?” you whisper to Liz as you both wash some of the mugs while the morning rush subsides. 

Today was one of the rare days he schedules you to work the opening shift, which you were happy about because now you can work a shift with Liz, who you’ve become close to. She shrugs her shoulders.

“Is he sitting in the right corner table by the flowers?” she whispers back.

You quickly peer over your shoulder and then turn back to the sink. “Yeah.”

“He’s probably just working on something for his art school, he sometimes comes here to do that. And so he can keep an eye on everyone.”

“Why not work on it at home or something?”

She shrugs, “I guess he likes to take the opportunity to get his free drink and pastry. He’s just been doing that since before I started working here, so don’t worry if you think he’s doing it to watch you.” You nod and finish washing the mugs and other utensils, drying your hands. “Although, I will say, he usually comes later when it’s less busy, so I was a little surprised to see he was here during the rush.”

You hum softly in response. “What does he usually order?”

“Just an iced americano and croissant. He’s quite plain–” she starts, but you don’t pay much attention, already preparing his order. She dries her hands and laughs softly, a hint of nervousness in her tone. “Um, I know you might be wanting to get on his good side, but trust me when I say: he doesn’t like to be disturbed, especially when he’s working on his art.”

“It’s not disturbing if I bring him something he’s going to get.” Possibly.

“Well, maybe, but–” she starts, but you already make your way over to him with the coffee and the croissant on a plate.

You set the coffee and plate down gently onto the table, accidentally peeking to see what he’s drawing. You barely make out what could possibly be a portrait of someone before he closes his sketchbook.

“What are you doing?” he asks, irritated.

“Oh, I just came to bring you your coffee and croissant. Liz told me what you usually get–”

“Did she also tell you I don’t like being bothered? I figured that would come across as something you would have picked up on by now, but perhaps I was too generous with what to assume in regards to what you can and can’t figure out.”

You just look at him, “I made it so you wouldn’t have to stop working and just have it readily available, but I forgot, you’re allergic to acts of kindness.”

He glances at the coffee and croissant, then back up at you. He’s quiet for a long moment and you worry you may have been too snarky with your boss. “Thank you.” he mumbles before taking a sip of his coffee.

You beam proudly, a bit. “You’re welcome.” you say as your eye catches the flowers around where he sits. “Are these marigolds?”

“Yes.” he mutters, “May I continue my work or are there more questions you would like to waste my time with?”

“How come you always sit here? Liz says you do.”

He sighs, “I suppose you have more questions to bother me with.” he mutters, annoyed. “It’s private and quiet. That’s why. And if you have more unnecessary questions to ask me, consider this eating into your break.”

“Right, well, good luck with your work.” you say before turning to head back towards the registers. He’s quiet for the few steps you take, and then you hear him sigh.

“The color suggests they represent creativity.” he says quickly, not wanting to say anything at all.

You turn around to look at the flowers and him, but he’s already focused on working in his sketchbook again. “Superstitious?”

“Not in the slightest.” he says in his usual tone, his pencil scratching against the paper.

“And yet you sit in the corner with the flowers that represent creativity?” you say with a hint of teasing.

“Among other things.” he mumbles, but you notice the tips of his ears turning pink, and you smile softly.

“Well, hopefully it works.” you say before going back over to Liz. She looks at you in complete shock.

“You still work here?” she asks, and you know she’s joking, but a part of her sounds actually surprised.

“Ha, ha.” you say as you stand behind the register, her next to you.

“No, no, seriously. He never talks to anyone, especially when he’s working on his art.”

You shrug, “To be honest, I’m surprised, too. Although, he did insult my intelligence.”

“Well, he does that to everyone.” she says, laughing softly, and you laugh as well.

As you laugh, you glance over at him, thinking maybe you saw him already looking at you. But, he just sits up straighter, and continues to draw.

-

“This is the third customer today that has wanted their latte remade because the art ‘didn’t look good’. You’ve been here for three months, you honestly mean to tell me you haven’t improved on any of the designs?” Sunghoon asks, crossing his arms as he watches you working on the decorations for some of the Belgium waffles.

You sigh and continue to dip a corner of the waffles into the chocolate. “I’ve been practicing. I’ve even had Hyunwoo help me–”

“You’ve been bothering a co-worker to help you with something you should be at least decent at by now?”

“Well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to approach for help.” you mumble.

He doesn’t say anything before letting out a sigh. “Are there any designs in particular you’re not confident in? Are there any that you are?”

“Not…particularly.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You think you hear him mutter the word ‘hopeless’ before you feel him ushering you over to the latte machine.

“Alright, I am going to teach you some of the basic designs: a leaf, a heart, and a tulip.”

“Sure, seems easy enough.” you say, somewhat sarcastic.

“If you prefer, you can find another job if this one is too complicated for you.” he replies, and you can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Your eyes widen a bit and you stand a bit straighter.

“Alright, fine, message received.”

He lets out a hum and starts making a latte and steaming milk. “A leaf: This one is probably the easiest one to master first; a good base design. Once you learn how this one works, you can apply it to the other designs.” You walk over to watch as he holds the pitcher over the cup. “You’re going to start with making a circle near the base of the latte, just slowly pouring the crema. Then bring the spout a little closer as you gently zig-zag the design towards the top, and then,” he trails off as you watch him bring the spout down in a line, finishing the leaf. “Done.” he says simply.

You nod a bit and watch him scoop out the design with a spoon. “There’s still enough milk left in the pitcher, so you may try.” he says as he hands it to you.

You take the pitcher and do as he said. You pour enough to make a circle, following by doing a zig-zag motion going up to the top of the cup. He watches closely, gently placing his hand over yours as he slows your zig-zag motion.

“A little slower, and,” he gently pushes your hand to lower the spout a bit. “Just a little lower.” he keeps his hand over yours to make sure you’re doing it right, but he stops applying pressure, his hand simply resting on top of yours. You make the line down the middle, and the leaf is a little awkward, but it’s much better than any of your previous attempts. You look up a bit, seeing a small smile on his face and your hand suddenly feels warm from his touch.

“Better?” you ask and watch the smile disappear before he looks up at you, taking away his hand.

“To an extent, yes.” he replies, taking the cup and pitcher. He prepares another latte and some more milk in order to show you the other design. “So, the heart,” he clears his throat a bit as he hands you the pitcher once he steams the milk. “This one is a little trickier and will be much easier if I just help you directly.”

You nod and he places hand over yours that holds the cup and his other hand over yours that holds the pitcher. Your breath hitches softly, and he hears it, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So…what, um, what do we do?” you ask softly.

“First, you’ll start pouring in the crema until the cup becomes fuller. Then,” he tips your hand with the cup a bit while he brings the spout a bit closer to the cup. “It will naturally start to move the crema once you tip the cup at an angle and once it circulates enough while the cup becomes fuller, just pull the spout away a bit to thin the stream and pull it down.” he says as he moves your hands gently, his grip firm yet delicate. His touch lingers as he continues to hold your hands and you look up at him, just realizing you weren’t entirely paying attention to what he was saying.

“Mhm.” is all you manage to reply with and he nods a bit, letting go.

A customer comes over to order and Sunghoon turns to them before looking over his shoulder. “Practice that one and I’ll see how you do after I help them.” he says before walking away. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and try your best to focus on practicing what he just taught you. Well, what you were at least paying attention to. He glances at you every so often while making the customer’s order, watching as you concentrate and work carefully. He looks away, poking his tongue in the side of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, before returning to his usual demeanor and giving the customer their drink. He walks back over to you and you look up at him, smiling proudly.

“It looks good, right?” you ask. 

Your heart was decent, not a terrible first attempt (but not great), and he was about to say so. However, your smile makes him hesitate and he swallows before nodding. “Yes. …good.” he chokes out the compliment, but you’re too proud to notice. “Alright, last design: the tulip.” he says, shaking his head before taking the cup and pitcher from your hands and preparing to teach you the last design.

“This one isn’t too hard, it’s just a few circles on top of each other. So,” he holds the latte and pitcher, filling it with the milk before bringing the spout closer to the lip of the cup that he tilts. “Just make one circle, pull back slightly and make another on top of it, this thins the previous circle, and do this a few more times, making the next one smaller and then pull through it to make the tulips.” he says before setting them down. “Easy enough, yes?”

“Actually, yes.” you say with a slight nod. Before he can tell you to, you start prepping in order to practice the design, but as you make your first circle, he softly puts his hands over yours again.

“Tilt the cup a little more and make sure both hands are steady; you’re shaking a bit.” he says softly, almost like a whisper.

You suddenly become aware of how close he’s standing to you. You try to focus on making the design, but as you become hyper aware of his proximity, it’s almost as if you can feel his soft breath scatter along your face.

“These latte art lessons kind of feel like an excuse for you to hold my hands.” you say, trying to ease your racing heart by making a light-hearted joke (even if you aren’t currently aware of who you’re making the joke to). His hands tense before letting go of yours. You finish the design and set the cup down. “Is it okay…?” you ask, looking up at him and realizing he has a slight flush over his cheeks.

It was actually the best design you’ve done thus far, but his mind is too occupied with what you said and it shows. 

“I’m sorry, I was making a joke. I didn’t mean to misinterpret you helping me. I was just…It was a stupid thing to say.”

He clears his throat, his cheeks turning a bit pinker. “This is the best design you’ve done out of the three.” he says, acting as if you didn’t make the joke at all.

You look at him, slightly stunned. “Oh…great.”

He nods a bit. “Right. Well. Hopefully this has helped.” he says before making his way back to his office, moving quickly as his face flushes even more.

-

You’ve become used to the quiet during closings with Sunghoon, but this time, it felt different. He hasn’t made an effort to talk to you since the joke you made, and although he never really went out of his way to talk to you at all, this time seemed off. He still sat at one of the tables, working in his sketchbook, while you mopped the floor. As you mop, you try to think of something to say, and every time you look up at him, he looks back down at his sketchbook. 

“You’re not sitting at the table with the marigolds.” you say, trying to at least break the ice.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, but he doesn’t look annoyed by you talking like he normally does, he looks as though he doesn’t want to reveal something. “It’s dark in that corner, so, I can’t really see my work.” he replies nonchalantly.

You nod a bit and then raise an eyebrow. “Couldn’t you just turn on the lights over the table in the back?”

“That would be a waste of electricity.”

Well, you couldn’t really argue with that. “But, you don’t pay the electricity bill, would the owner really notice?”

He stops drawing. “Are you really suggesting I turn on the light at the table with the marigolds for my own selfish benefit simply because you assume that it would go unnoticed?”

You shrug. “I mean, I know it’s not a big deal–”

“That it is not.”

“But I was just curious as to why you sit there during the day and then at that table,” you say as you point at the one he is currently sitting at–the one you just realized he sits at every night during closing–right in the center of the shop, “During closing?”

“Are you telling me you pay attention to where I sit?”

“I’m telling you I’ve noticed where you’ve sat.”

He grins a bit, but then quickly hides it. He goes back to drawing. “I told you: I’m not superstitious.”

“And yet you sit at the two same tables.”

He lets out a scoff, which almost sounds like it was about to be a laugh, before looking back up at you. “I am just sitting at a table, working on pieces for my class exhibit.”

“A class exhibit?” you ask with intrigue. “Like, an art showing at your school or just specifically your class?”

“It’s just for our class, but it’s being held at my school.” he quickly stops talking and goes back to drawing. “It’s not important.” he clears his throat. “Finish mopping.”

“Woah, woah, wait. You’re having a school event, which I’m assuming you’ve been working on since I’ve started here, and you’re not promoting it?”

“What exactly is there to promote?” he looks up at you. “It’s an event that my class is expected to invite friends or family to, not some charity event.”

“Have you invited any of your friends?”

He looks away. “It’s not important.”

“The event’s not important or the fact that you may or may not have invited your friends is not important?”

“Would you like the answer to that question or would you like to keep your job?”

You go back to mopping. “Point taken.”

-

“Shit.” you mutter to yourself. Liz offered to give you a ride home tonight since the bus gave notice that it was going to be having last stops earlier this week. Unfortunately, she just texted you that she won’t be able to make it tonight. It was almost ten, and even though you lived a few minutes away (if traveling in a vehicle), the nights during fall were starting to get cooler and you didn’t prepare for a walk home. You sigh, grabbing your bag, and as you walk to the door: you see the few drops of rain fall against the windows of the coffee shop. “No fucking wa-”, but you’re cut off by the sudden downpour of rain. You groan, an instant frown appearing on your face.

“You’re still here?” he asks in a tone that doesn’t sound as though he actually cares.

“It’s raining.” you reply solemnly.

“What gave that away?” he asks sarcastically as he grabs his things, slinging his backpack over his back and grabbing his umbrella.

You glare back at him and sigh. “Well, I wish I was given a heads up that the universe hates me, that way, I could’ve brought an umbrella.” 

“Is Liz not picking you up?” he asks, genuinely sounding curious this time.

“No.” you answer, slightly wondering how he knew she has been picking you up this week since he typically leaves after you. “She said she couldn’t make it tonight. And the last bus left at eight.”

“How unfortunate. Well, after you.” he says as he opens the door.

You roll your eyes, walking outside, shoving your bag under your shirt so it won’t get as wet from the rain. You hear him lock the door and you let out another annoyed sigh before stepping out from under the awning. To your surprise, no rain was falling onto you. You look up, confused considering it was still pouring and you see the rain instead falling onto a clear umbrella. You turn your head, seeing Sunghoon standing under the umbrella beside you. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not letting you walk home alone in the rain.” he says simply.

You feel your breath hitch softly as you swallow a lump in your throat, your gaze lingering on him. He was standing close, considering the umbrella wasn’t that big, and you felt his knuckles brush against your shoulder. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you wondered if he could hear it over the rain hitting the umbrella and sidewalk. He was standing there as though your proximity didn’t matter, but truthfully, he was wondering the same thing as you all while holding his breath.

“You don’t have to.” you say so softly, you almost barely hear yourself say it. 

His jaw clenches, knees almost buckling at your tone. “Uh-huh.” he chokes out. He clears his throat, facing forward. “Lead the way.” he says quickly.

You nod and start walking, him following beside you. Neither of you speak for a while, not sure what to say. 

“Do you live nearby?” you both end up asking at the same time. You laugh softly and he grips the handle of the umbrella tighter.

“I live about fifteen blocks away. Not too far, but–”

“Not exactly close.” he mutters. “So, around a thirty minute walk ahead of us?”

“It takes about seven minutes for a bus ride.”

“Are we on a bus?” he asks rhetorically.

You keep your mouth shut. Then, you let out a huff and cross your arms. “I never asked you to walk with me.” you (slightly) snap. A part of you was annoyed with him. Annoyed he made you close this week even though you explained the situation with the bus schedule. Annoyed he was throwing a fit about walking you home when you didn’t ask him to. Annoyed that he was being so annoying and you kind of wanted to kiss him. What?! “You know what? I’ll walk home by myself.” you mutter, walking faster and stepping out from under the umbrella, the rain falling harshly onto you, starting to soak your clothes and hair. 

You feel him tug you back to him, back under the safety of the umbrella, and you look up at him. Your wet self pressed against his chest, his hand on the small of your back, and he meets your gaze, looking down at you. His nose barely brushes against yours as he stands quiet, however, his gaze says it all. You don’t speak, worried that if you do, then the moment will end. You aren’t sure how much time passes before he finally speaks.

“I’ll walk with you.” he says simply, as if he isn’t holding back the urge to pull you just a bit closer for his lips to meet yours.

“Okay.” you say, giving in easily.

He swallows and you move a bit, standing beside him again as you both continue the walk to your home. It grows quiet again, the rain letting up only slightly. You shiver a bit, the cold from the rain that soaked you feeling as though it’s seeping into your bones, he notices, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Hold this.” he says, handing you the umbrella. You raise an eyebrow and he maneuvers his backpack so he can take off his jacket. He drapes his jacket over your shoulders and takes back the umbrella as he puts back on his backpack. “Put it on.” he directs.

You were about to protest, but oblige nonetheless, enjoying the warmth it instantly brings. You hear him sigh and he hands you the umbrella again before zipping up the jacket for you. You become flustered and unable to meet his gaze.

“Thanks.” you say softly, but he doesn’t look at you, him knowing if he does, he won’t be able to stop from kissing you. He nods curtly and takes back the umbrella before you both continue walking.

The rest of the walk is silent, but not the typical silence that normally occurs between the two of you. This felt different, more comforting. As you approach your apartment building after the somewhat pleasant thirty minute walk, you step under the awning, him closing the umbrella and standing under it with you.

“Thank you.” you say again.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, and if you weren’t paying such close attention, you wouldn’t have noticed his eyes flitting softly over the features of your face. The way your hair curves over your face, barely dried from being soaked by the rain earlier. How you look in his jacket.

“I don’t regret it.” he says.

You’re taken aback a bit from his response, expecting a ‘you’re welcome’ or a sarcastic ‘no problem’ before him walking away and leaving at that. You nod a bit in response and give him a small smile.

“Goodnight.” you whisper.

He shivers, and you can’t tell if it’s from the way you said it or the cold.

“Goodnight.” he replies, softly. He doesn’t say any more, turning and opening his umbrella before walking away.

You forgot about giving him back his jacket or even bringing up when he wants you to give it back to him. And lucky for him, you forgot he owns a car.

-

“Were you able to get home okay? I am so sorry, I didn’t know it was going to rain last night.” Liz says apologetically as she puts on her apron after clocking in.

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. And yes, I did.”

“That’s good, and I’m still really sorry.” she says apologetically, gently touching your arm.

“Really, Liz, it’s okay. I…had an umbrella.”

“Oh, that’s good. At least you were prepared.” You nodded in response, finishing an order before calling out the customer’s name at the counter. “Oh, and Sunghoon wanted you to go to the kitchen and finish prepping the next batch of croissants.” she says as she takes over your spot at the register. 

You walk back into the kitchen, re-tying back your hair before putting on your gloves. You grab the slabs of croissant dough from the refrigerator, it now being ready to cut and shape. As you unwrap the plastic covering the dough, you hear the door open. You glance up, seeing Sunghoon walk in. He doesn’t say anything, putting on gloves and walking over to the counter you are working on, grabbing a slab of the dough and unwrapping it as well.

“Good afternoon.” he says before he starts cutting the dough, not glancing at you at all.

“Good…afternoon.” you reply, looking at his hands. Not because they’re pretty (which you would be a fool to deny), but rather because you wanted to mimic what he was doing. You cut the dough like he does, albeit, much slower than him. He takes a piece, holding it in the air as his other hand softly stretches it by dragging the piece down, the dough becoming longer. He sets it back down once satisfied and starts to roll it into a croissant. “You make it look easy.” you say, holding the dough up, trying to stretch it.

He finally glances at you, watching how you work the dough. “You get used to it.” he says, keeping focus on what you’re doing. You hear him let out a tut before he stands behind you, wrapping his arms around for his hand to meet yours. “You have to work a little quickly while being gentle. You don’t want the butter to melt from the dough, and even the heat from your hands, no matter if they’re warm or not, all works against you.” He engulfs your hands in his, one hand helping you keep the dough steady in the air, the other slowly guiding your hand to gently stretch the dough.

He’s quiet, his breath softly grazing along your ear. “See? It is easy.” he whispers, sending chills down your spine. He moves away, grabbing the other slabs you got from the fridge, putting them back inside. “And don’t take out any that you aren’t currently working on. They’ll melt and ruin all of the preparation that went into kneading and folding the butter into the dough.” he says in a somewhat strict tone, completely contrasting from his gentle whispers just moments before. He continues to work on his pieces and you work on yours in silence for a bit.

“Do they look okay?” you ask, finishing your first batch. He glances at it, before grabbing another slab from a fridge and then placing the trays with the ones you just shaped into the oven.

“They weren’t exponentially terrible.” he mutters with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“They were that good?” you ask, excitedly. “How sweet.”

He laughs softly and cuts the next slab. “Here, stretch this piece like I showed you and then I can help you shape it.”

You nod, working the dough like he demonstrated before. The lingering feeling of his hands on yours sending tingles along your fingers and skin. You set the piece down, and look over at him. He tries to hide the smile that creeps onto his face, looking down as pink softly tints his ears. He walks to be behind you, taking your hands in his again.

“Just roll the dough tightly from this end, not the pointed end first, like this,” he says softly, moving your hands with his as he speaks. “Then, make sure you tuck the tip under, curve the ends a bit so it makes a crescent. That’s optional, it’s okay not to do that every time, but just for the sake of showing you, that’s how you do it.” Or, for the sake of holding your hands more. “Done. See?” he lets go and steps back a bit. “Finish the rest of that one and I’ll work on a different one.”

“Thanks.” you say with a small smile as you look at him over your shoulder before placing the finished croissant on the baking tray and moving on to shape the next one. He smiles back, although you don’t notice, as he sets another slab on the counter. “Do you…teach everyone like that?” you ask, hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, a small smirk on his face, “If it’s helpful and produces the proper result, maybe I will.” he replies.

“So I’m just the guinea pig?”

He laughs softly and shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone will be as good a student as you.”

You smile at that, feeling somewhat proud. “So, you haven’t taught anyone like this?”

He looks up at you and you turn your head to look back at him. “Only you.”

-

Closing with Sunghoon hasn’t been miserable since he walked you home that night. He still tends to quietly sketch at the same table each night, but he hasn’t made you do mundane tasks each night like he used to. Besides, he was quieter than usual, and Hyunwoo said it was because his class exhibit was coming up. You wondered why he didn’t tell you, but he was taking the next few days off, so instead, you were closing with another co-worker, to which Sunghoon (begrudgingly) left you in charge.

However, on one of the nights you were supposed to close, Liz switched her shift with you so you could open. You asked her why, to which she responded with: “You deserve a break”. As odd as you may have found it, you didn’t want to pass up a free night off.

“Later!” you call out to Hyunwoo, who was finishing warming a pastry for a customer.

“Enjoy your night!” he calls back, taking the pastry out and putting it on a plate. “Have fun!” he says before walking to the counter, out of earshot. 

You furrow your eyebrows a bit, assuming he most likely just meant have fun with the rest of your night. You take off your apron, hanging it up, before grabbing your things from your cubby. A slip of paper falls to the floor and you crouch down to pick it, flipping it over to read: Art Exhibition: Wednesday November 3rd @ 5 p.m. | Academy of Arts Lecture Hall D, Classroom 502 on a sheet of crumpled pale yellow paper. 

Originally, you were planning on simply staying in, just watching mindless content as you lazily lounged around, but you found yourself on the bus heading downtown to the college campus to attend an art exhibition. As you stepped off of the bus and walked the block to the school, you walked in circles for about the first fifteen minutes after five, then asked for directions, got lost a little more, and finally, twenty-five minutes later, you found the lecture hall and classroom. 

You walked inside, expecting it to be fairly empty, but saw many (who you presumed to be) friends and family of the students in the class. It looked much more professional than you originally thought it would be: light classical music playing in the background to set the mood, food catered and being passed out to the guests, works of art littering the classroom on nice displays, hands holding champagne flutes as people discuss and share their work. Your eyes scan the room until they land on Sunghoon who is dressed nicely with a black ribbed knit half-zip sweater, black slacks, and black dress shoes to match. It even seems he trimmed his hair, it styled with a small part that exposes his forehead, him smiling and laughing softly as he pushes his rimless glasses up the bridge of his nose a bit. 

You feel yourself shiver, his voice sounding rich and deep as he talks, even if he is across the room from you. You make your way over to him, feeling underdressed in your work clothes, it not occurring to you to go home and change into something nicer; the only thought running through your mind at the time that you had to be here. He sees you, his eyes lingering on you as if you aren’t wearing a white blouse, black pants, and black flats. Your hair may be down, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you wear something like this a hundred times since you started working at the coffee shop almost a year ago. And yet, to him, you were the best dressed person there.

“Hi.” he whispers.

“Hey.” you whisper back with a small smile.

“How did you…?” You hold out the flyer that was in your cubby. He takes it, his fingers brushing against your knuckles (possibly on purpose) as he takes the paper. He smiles a bit and sets it on the desk behind him. “I didn’t leave this for you.”

“I didn’t figure that you did.” you reply, not once your gaze wavering from each other.

“I scheduled you to close.”

“Did you not want me to come?”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Is that why you didn’t invite me?”

“That’s not why.”

“How come?”

“Is anyone at the shop?”

“Liz switched shifts with me.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to show me what you’ve been working on since I started working there?”

“Did you come straight from work?”

“Sunghoon.” 

“Fine.”

He lets out a reluctant sigh before turning to the side a bit. You look at the wall, seeing a few paintings hanging from the wall along with some sketches hanging beside them. The collection is titled Heliotrope with a scripture below it: My eyes follow no matter where you lead, body turned towards you like a heliotrope in the sun; at first afraid to touch, expecting to burn, yet brave enough to endure the pain just to feel you beneath my fingertips; instead, I was met with warmth and softness unlike any other; you, my sun, may I be doomed to an eternity of bathing in your warmth, prepared to gaze at nothing more, damned for all eternity; I shall except it with open arms.

As you look up at his work, you see heliotropes, varying in vibrant purples, shaped as a person, highlights adorning the silhouette, making it seem as though the figure glows. One sketch includes a hand shape made from heliotropes intertwining fingers with a thick and rough hand colored in with charcoal. You gaze at them all, smiling to yourself as you see one with the heliotrope figure holding a leaf, another of it being watered by rain, and another of it sitting across a table with the rest of the background in complete darkness with something resting on the table.

“Heliotropes?” you ask, still looking at his art.

“Yes.” he replies, not exactly answering your question, but knowing he understands what you’re asking, just choosing not to answer it.

“How come?” you ask, trying to coax a more specific answer from him.

“Did you read the scripture?”

“I did.”

“Then you should know.” he replies directly.

His hands are behind his back as he looks at his work with you, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Beautiful.” you say, simply, honestly meaning it.

“Thank you.” he accepts the compliment.

“What inspired you?” you ask, finally turning to look at him.

He looks at his work for a moment longer before finally turning to face you. “My sun.” he replies softly.

“Your sun?”

“In Greek mythology, a water nymph–whose name was Clytie–fell in love with the Sun God, Helios. She loved him passionately, but he fell in love with a princess, thus not reciprocating her feelings. Rejected and envious, Clytie informed Leucothoe’s, the princess’s, father and enraged by the information, he buried the princess alive. Clytie was now hopeful that with Leucothoe gone, Helios would reciprocate her love, but her actions only drove him further away. She spent her last days, sitting on the ground, gazing up at the sun until she withered away. The Gods pitied her, reincarnating her into a heliotrope, a flower that always faces towards the sun, letting her always gaze upon her love, no matter him not loving her back.”

“So, you used heliotropes to symbolize your ‘sun’?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel she doesn’t reciprocate your love?”

“She?”

“He?”

“She.” he corrects.

You nudge his shoulder, laughing softly. “She doesn’t feel the same?”

“I doubt she does.”

“Do you love her?”

“It’s not about whether or not I love her or whether or not she loves me back.”

“Why is she always seen from a distance in your paintings and sketches?”

“That is how I see her.”

“You feel she is unattainable.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then why are you never with her?”

“I am, just from afar.”

“Stalker?”

He laughs softly, “No. I don’t need to be close to her to feel happy.”

“She just needs to be nearby?”

“As long as I face her, no matter how far from me she is, I feel her warmth; like a sun.”

“That’s why she’s your sun? Because she makes you feel warm, not because you feel she doesn’t reciprocate your love?”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I love her or whether or not she loves me back.”

“You’ve said that twice: ‘whether or not she loves me back’. So, you do love her.”

He grins a bit and looks back at his work. “It’s too early to tell.”

“You feel this strongly for her that you based such important work on her.”

“It’s not about the grade I receive on my work for this project.” he turns to face you, “I was in a rut, I couldn’t think of what to do for this assignment. I felt an immense amount of pressure that I unnecessarily put on myself that I almost wanted to quit; I was more afraid of failing than trying at all. But then, she inspired me. From the moment I saw her, she made all of that go away. So, any chance I got, I would sketch her, and then the idea came to me and so,” he gestures to his work, “I made these.”

“I thought it wasn’t about the grade.”

“It’s not.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Figuring out how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“The same.”

“The same as…?”

He faces you again. “The first day I saw her.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Has she seen it yet?”

“I didn’t plan for her to.”

“Has she?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is she here tonight?”

“I didn’t invite her.”

“So, she hasn’t seen it.”

“She has.”

Silence.

“And?”

Silence.

“And?” you repeat.

Silence.

“And…I want to kiss her.”

Silence.

“Does she want to kiss me?”

“Perhaps.” you whisper.

Silence.

“Are you going to?”

“Perhaps.” he whispers.

You didn’t even notice his hand softly caressing your cheek with his knuckles, gently brushing over your skin, sending tingles down your neck through your chest, erupting butterflies in your stomach. He leans in, parting his lips just barely, his eyes flitting between your own slightly parted lips and your half-lidded eyes. His thumb tenderly strokes your cheek and as you part your lips more to speak, he gently presses his lips to yours.

Your bottom lip slots between his, him tugging you closer, his grip on your cheek tightening just a bit while his lips move with yours. Your fingers find their way to his sweater, tugging and gripping it softly while you suck and release his top lip and he does the same with your bottom one. He tilts his head to the side, his breath scattering over your lips as he exhales a gentle breath before latching his lips to yours again. You both move in tandem, slowly, taking your time to let your lips linger on each other before barely parting them and connecting them together again. 

He breaks the kiss slowly, letting your bottom lip stay between his for a moment as both of your eyes flutter open. His glasses are fogged a bit and you laugh. His cheeks blush pink as he wipes them clean and adjusts them on the bridge of his nose.

“So…heliotropes represent unrequited love?”

He laughs a bit at your change in topic. “Eternal love and devotion.”

“For a girl you’ve known for almost a year?”

“For a girl I’ve known for almost a year.”

-

Normally, sitting by the window on a particularly sunny day wouldn’t be your first choice for when taking your break. However, for some reason, it didn’t bother you as much anymore. Having the light shining softly on your face, it warming your body slightly, enveloping you in a rich softness. You feel a presence beside you, turning your head to see Sunghoon. He sets a book on the table. You look at it and smile.

“The Odyssey?”

“You mentioned you liked it.”

“Yeah, around the time I first started here.”

“So?”

“So, you remembered?”

“Of course.”

‘Of course.’ You smile at that. You hear him set something else on the table and you look to see what it is.

“A latte?” you ask, looking at the cup, smiling with your gaze locked on the foam heart on the top.

“For you to drink while you read on your break.”

You look back at him. “Thank you.” you whisper.

He leans in, just about to kiss your lips, looking down at them with such temptation before his eyelashes flutter and he meets your gaze just as you look up from his lips yourself.

“See you in fifteen.” he says with a wink as he pulls away and walks back over to the counter. Jerk, you think as you open your book, inside: a pressed heliotrope along with a written message saying ‘For my sun: to an eternity of looking’. You try to hold back a lovesick smile, glancing over your shoulder to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you, the same lovesick smile proudly on his face.

[racheldrawsthis]

Ngl. the PNG files don’t solve anything. we fans brought the book because we wanted an art book. Now the book is meaningless. If I wanted PNG files, I would have paid for a subscription service.

please remake the book & check the product before you send out dodgy products to ur loyal customers

This has already been addressed in other socials/the official discord server, but us the studio wasn't responsible/involved with the actual physical production of the book; our job was to gather all the art, sketches & write blurbs of text we wanted included in the book and organize it then send the files to them online and the rest of the printing and shipping process was Juniper (the merch company we were collaborating with) and their manufacturer's responsibility, and sadly reproduction would also be their call and we don't have any authority to initiate or overlook that. This was our first time collaborating with Juniper and making a print-based product with them & we didn't receive the final sample from them before they were shipped out so we had no idea about the quality, and we're definitely taking this as a lesson to always make sure to double ask our collaboration partners to send us the sample before they get shipped out + rethink about doing print-based products in the future in general considering our files were inherently small and we couldn't calculate how they'd look on print.

The full 286 page PDF file of the book was the best solution we could offer, and they should be sent out via email to everyone who ordered the art book by this week.

Sorry for the inconvenience and if you wish for a refund or if you had any other inquiries about the book please feel free to contact Juniper themselves! https://junipercreates.com/docs/contact

But again we didn't handle the production and we had no way of overlooking that :(

[vivziepoparchives]

The original art for a Huskerdust print available via Streamily November 24, 2024. Art by Alyah and frostisass. Signed by Blake Roman.

Initially, this print was intended to be signed by both Blake Roman and Keith David, however, the print ran into a multitude of problems. First the print's art had to be changed to comply with the current canon status of Husk and Angel Dust's relationship. So, the reflection was changed from a kiss to simply reflecting the same image above and below the street line.

Then, it was discovered that Keith David never agreed to do signings via Streamily and customers were unable to receive both autographs on the now significantly altered print. Customers were given partial refunds for Keith David's autograph but no refunds were granted to those seeking them for the change to the print's art.

An overwhelmingly unsatisfying experience for Streamily customers across the board.

This also resulted in the Hellaverse twitter account issuing a statement that the prints licensed by voice actors for signings were not official and their contents not canon unless endorsed by an official account.

The prints are still being archived here regardless as I believe these statements to be caused primarily by NDAs related to Hazbin Hotel. And while their contents may not be guaranteed to be officially canon at the time of release, they are still official merch in my eyes.

[source] [source 2] [source 3]

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ couple items with RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre crack, fluff pairing bf!riize x reader requested by: the sungchan to my eunseok, @ladylilith ♥

ᯓ★ SHOTARO — Phone case

Shotaro wanted to buy a couple item that you could both carry all the time, so you could see it and think of him (and vice versa). That's why he decided to buy matching phone cases for both of you that complemented each other, which you thought was a very sweet gesture.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK — Pajamas

Most of the times you hung out with Eunseok, it was at either of your houses, or even if you went out, you would always end up sleeping over at his place. So when he saw a matching pajama set from your favorite video game, he didn’t hesitate to buy it.

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN — Underwear

When Sungchan saw an ad for customizable underwear, he didn’t hesitate for a second to buy it. You couldn’t stop laughing when he showed you what he had bought for the two of you: underwear with “I ❤️ Sungchan” printed on yours and “I ❤️ y/n” on his.

ᯓ★ WONBIN — Jewelry

Everyone knows how much Wonbin loves jewelry, especially custom pieces. It was such a sweet gesture when he gave you matching necklaces with your initials engraved for your anniversary. Since then, you’ve always seen him wearing his.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN — T-shirts

One of the many things you love about Seunghan is that he comes up with the best ideas for things to do together, like getting matching custom T-shirts. Each of you made the other’s shirt, adding a little matching detail between the two, making it your favorite shirt.

ᯓ★ SOHEE — Beanies

You both love beanies, and they were a staple in your winter outfits. That’s why Sohee decided to buy you both matching beanies with each other’s initial embroidered on the front, a detail you really liked. It definitely became something you had to wear every time you went out.

ᯓ★ ANTON — Keychain

You love collecting small things, and keychains were one of your favorites. Anton knew how much you liked them, so he didn’t hesitate to buy matching keychains for you both whenever he saw one. Your favorite was a set of two dinosaurs that kissed when brought together.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa

[doctorassistedzine]

The doctors will see you... again! Leftovers for Doctor Assisted Homicide: A TF2 Medic Zine are now OPEN from December 7th, 2024 at 12pm PST to December 21st, 2024 at 12pm PST!!

For those of you who may have missed the initial preorder period, we now have leftover zines and merch available for purchase! Bundles, B and C grade zines, individual merch items, we have it all! Check out our BigCartel to see what's in stock! ⬇

Store: https://doctorassistedzine.bigcartel.com/

As a disclaimer regarding shipping, the buyer will be responsible for any VAT or customs fees incurred. We will also only be shipping to countries currently accepting shipments from USPS and UPS (click this link to find out if that includes you!). Additionally, orders from Canada will not be sent out until the postal strike has ended, which could take until January or later.

We deeply apologize for any hassle this may cause. However, ALL countries, including those listed, are still eligible to purchase the zine itself DIGITALLY.

Full product descriptions under the cut! ⬇️🩸✨❤

Merch a la Carte ���� - $3-7

- 5 inch holographic Medigun sticker: $7 - 2 inch stretch goal Mannbulance sticker: $3 - 4x6 inch Gargoyles and gravel print: $4 - 5x7 inch flying Medic print: $4 - 4x6 inch Running Medic sticker sheet: $7

Low Grade Zines ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - $6-8

- B grade zines: $8 - C grade zines: $6

Medic Zine Digital Only 📱 - $4

- Digital PDF copy of the zine (20 pages total!!) - PDF sent to email provided at checkout (when preorders are over and first round of packages is sent)

Medic Zine Physical 📖 - $10

- Digital PDF AND physical copy (5.5x8") of the zine (20 pages total!!) - PDF sent to email provided at checkout (when preorders are over and first round of packages is sent)

Medic Zine Full Bundle 🩸💉🕊 - $25

- Digital PDF AND physical copy (5.5x8") of the zine (20 pages total!!) - PDF sent to email provided at checkout (when preorders are over and first round of packages is sent) - 4x6" sticker sheet - 5x5" die-cut sticker - 5x7" print - 4x6" print

[youremyheaven]

Venusians: The Cult of Exclusivity

In my research, I have stumbled upon Venusians either being drawn into cults or being cult leaders. It did not surprise me particularly. All Venusian nakshatras (Bharani, Purvaphalguni, Purvashada) are ugra nakshatras known for being "violent". Venus is in itself, a harsh planet. In fact, all the benefic planets (Jupiter, Venus, Mercury & Moon- in that order) are harsh and for good reason; its natives have to be "purified" by the working of those planetary energies to earn its blessings. Venus values exclusivity and separatism. There is a reason why Venus attracts Venus. It is a kind of elitism. We talk about how rare beauty and glamour is these days and we fawn over the nonchalance and effortless cool of low key & mysterious celebrities. If someone or something is plastered everywhere, it loses its "special" feeling, Venus does not mingle with the masses, Venus sets the standard, its THE blue print but it does not involve itself with anything directly, they like to sit back and watch others ape them.

All 3 Venus nakshatras have yoni animals that point to a highly sexual nature and high libido. Bharani with its elephant yoni signals an immense sexual appetite (elephant being the largest land animal and yoni animal), Purvaphalguni and its rat yoni points to freaky deaky sexual behaviour and Purvashada and monkey yoni ,,, well,, monkeys are known for their lovemaking and how human like it is so..

Sex is a big focus of all 3 Venus nakshatras, with Bharani's themes of birth and death and its symbol literally being the yoni, Purvaphalguni representing the pleasures of the bed and being symbolised by the front legs of the cot and Purvashada with its connection to water, where life originated. Venus is more than just beauty and beauty itself is more profound than "looking good". Venus is beauty, romance, love, creativity, harmony, values etc.

I have talked about Venusian men and their tendency to be drawn to violence before. If we think of sex, it is a kind of violent act in itself, there has to be a back and forth of domination and submission. If we look at animals, male animals often kill other males to eliminate competition and establish themselves as the alpha that the females pick but even in coitus with female animals (literally watch any nature documentary) the male takes on a very aggressive, dominant approach and they often look like theyre trying to kill each other (people say things like "making love like animals" for a reason, sexual courtesy is a humane, civilised approach but animals are not wired that way). In Venusian men, this kind of aggressive erotic sexual persona is very apparent and Claire said these men embody "big dick energy".

Occult knowledge is gatekept and one literally cannot access it until one is initiated into it. Regardless of whether or not we recognise it as such, there are cults of knowledge all around us and we do not even know of their existence unless we've made it past their barrier and can access it. even explaining things defeats the purpose because only someone who's ready to understand it will be able to. Its nature's way of shielding itself from the unwise or the unworthy. you can be surrounded by this knowledge and still not be able to tap into it, if you do not have the discernment. this is a kind of Venusian exclusivity.

If you think about it beauty is pain. These days we see people literally endure pain to be beautiful via cosmetic procedures but this has always been the case, victorian women used arsenic to keep their skin pale and glowy and ammonia in their hair. footbinding was a common custom for Chinese women. but even beyond enduring pain to be beautiful, if you're beautiful you will have to endure pain, be it in the way others hurt you and ostracize you out of jealousy or in how people just assume crazy shit about you. Venusian women NEED to remain lowkey bc they're more susceptible to evil eye.

(im thinking of the song pretty hurts by purvaphalguni sun beyonce 👀)

anywaaayys (me going on a random tangent exhibit 62772). we know that Venusians value and need exclusivity, they're the most clique-y in some ways and this is what makes them drawn to cults lol. A cult is as exclusive as it gets. nothing screams "im not like the others" than being a part of a cult lol

Osho- Purvashada Stellium (moon, mercury and venus)

Osho was an Indian spiritual guru and mystic. His commune and the crazy shit that went on there was the subject of the docu-series Wild Wild Country.

Sadhguru- Purvaphalguni Sun

he is an indian guru. i think its interesting how cults have to have a physical existence by way of a commune that people gather in or live in, its not just conceptual if ykwim. i think this is another manifestation of Venusian exclusivity. entering into a cult means entering and inhabiting a different world. Osho had Rajneeshpuram, Sadhguru has his Isha Centre.

Sun Myung Moon- Bharani Moon

He was the leader of the Unification Church, a famous South Korean cult and he claimed to be the Messiah

Moon was intent on replacing worldwide forms of Christianity with his new unified vision of it, Moon being a self-declared messiah. Moon's followers regard him as a separate person from Jesus but with a mission to basically continue and complete Jesus's work in a new way, according to the Principle.

Nirmala Srivastava- Bharani Moon conjunct Mars

aka Mataji Nirmala Devi, she was the founder of the religion called Sahaja Yoga. She claimed that she was a divine incarnation, more precisely an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, or the Adi Shakti of the Hindu tradition, the great mother goddess who had come to save humanity. This is also how she is regarded by most of her devotees. she has said that she was born "self realised" and spent her life "helping" others do the same

The Venusian urge to start a new religion 😤😤😤lol

Religion is exclusive and if you do not have the discipline to endure its rules, you cannot gain access to its blessings. Religion esp eastern religion is extremely Venusian af, there are wonderful blessings for those who devote themselves to it and cruel sickening punishments for those who disobey. thats as Venusian as it gets

Anandamayi Ma- Bharani Sun, exalted Venus in Revati as her atmakaraka

She was an Indian saint, teacher, and mystic. She was revered as an incarnation of Hindu goddess Durga.

Her life was suffused in Bhakti Yoga and she was considered an epitome of "divine grace" that inspired the societal cultural milieu to lead the path of service, love and constant remembrance of the divine. Her followers experienced her spiritual attributes including precognition, faith healing and miracles. Paramahansa Yogananda translates the Sanskrit epithet Anandamayi as "Joy-permeated" in English. This name was given to her by her devotees in the 1920s to describe her perpetual state of divine joy.

she wasn't a cult leader or anything, just a guru even though she rejected even that label (spiritual gurus are a dime a dozen in india, no one who's actually worth their salt will label themselves as a guru)

i think Venus' connection to religion, cults and the occult is underexplored af. the highest form of love is devotion and religion/cults demand it of their followers making it a very Venusian experience. sex, love and religion are all closely connected, people experience trance like states when they're orgasmic or during periods of intense meditation (it can also be artificially induced via drugs etc but euphoria is naturally experienced through either prayer or sex) if you look at paintings of Hindu gods and goddesses, their eyes always seem so blissed out? same goes for truly spiritual people, you can immediately sense the tranquillity of their energy and the dreaminess of their gaze, like they're not of this world.

even the word "Ananda" which means joyous, etymologically means "without end" (Ah- meaning "without in Sanskrit and nand- meaning end) so the goal of any spiritual pursuit is self realization/actualisation and a person who achieves that seems joyous all the time. Many spiritual gurus have Ananda as part of their name as well.

Swami Vivekananda- Purvashada Rising

He was a monk, philosopher and religious teacher who is widely credited with introducing Hinduism to the West.

“All love is expansion, all selfishness is contraction. Love is therefore the only law of life. He who loves lives, he who is selfish is dying. Therefore love for love's sake, because it is the only law of life, just as you breathe to live."- Swami Vivekananda

Paramhansa Yogananda- Purvashada Sun

Paramahansa Yogananda was an Indian-American Hindu monk, yogi and guru who introduced millions to meditation and Kriya Yoga through his organization, Self-Realization Fellowship / Yogoda Satsanga Society of India.

Mother Theresa- Bharani Moon & Saturn, Mars in Purvaphalguni

Mother Theresa was an Albanian nun who came to India and helped the poor and the needy. She established charitable settlements that have come under fire for mismanagement and misappropriation of funds.

Now I'll talk about some people who've gained a cult-like following or were revered in their time and considered akin to God.

Eva Peron- Bharani Sun

Known by her nickname Evita, she was an Argentine politician, activist, actress, and philanthropist who served as First Lady of Argentina from June 1946 until her death in July 1952. She was revered by the lower economic classes and helped enact a number of reforms and policies to their benefit. She also helped bring about the passage of Argentina's women's suffrage law. even decades after her passing, the grip she has on people in Argentina is crazyyy.

fun fact: Madonna, Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising played Evita in the movie of the same name in 1996.

Tito- Bharani Sun

Josip Broz, commonly known as Tito, was a Yugoslav communist revolutionary and politician who served in various positions of national leadership from 1943 until his death in 1980

He was a popular public figure both in Yugoslavia and abroad. He remains a popular leader in the former countries of Yugoslavia. Tito was viewed as a unifying symbol, with his internal policies maintaining the peaceful coexistence of the nations of the Yugoslav federation. his legacy lives on and he was a VVV popular

Rasputin- Bharani Moon

He was a quack with no actual powers but man did he have a following

Rasputin was a Russian mystic and holy man. He is best known for having befriended the imperial family of Nicholas II, the last Emperor of Russia, through whom he gained considerable influence in the final years of the Russian Empire

Historians often suggest that Rasputin's scandalous and sinister reputation helped discredit the Tsarist government, thus precipitating the overthrow of the House of Romanov shortly after his assassination.

Taylor Swift- Purvashada Rising

Taylor's chokehold over her fandom is insane. I think it's due to her PA Rising bc wheww

There is a reason why Venusian influence is sooo common in the charts of it girls and icons. Venus is THE blue print, it makes others want to be like you and imitate you and also claim they hate you or dont know you all in the same breath.

Trisha Paytas-Bharani Sun & Jupiter, Ketu in Purvaphalguni

Trisha has a cult like following whether u want to admit it or not. Girlie has been doing this for a decade and a half and is still somehow relevant?? literally most of her contemporaries have been cancelled or left the platform and she's still standing?? despite a gazillion controversies that too lol

Now I'll mention some famous celebrities who are in/have been in cults

John Travolta- Purvaphalguni Moon

He was/is a Scientologist

Park Bogum- Bharani Moon & Venus

Bogum is part of Jesus Centred Church which is a cult and he was apparently even given his name by the founder/leader of the cult. There have been rumours that Bogum left the controversial church/cult and joined a normal church but there isnt enough info to confirm this

Nazanin Boniadi- Purvaphalguni Moon

She is a former Scientologist who was "trained" to be Tom Cruise's gf before he met Katie Holmes. read about the crazy and torturous stuff she was subjected to and you'll wonder why tf scientology hasn't been shut down by the government yet

Ruslana Korushnova- Purvaphalguni Moon

She was found dead at 20yrs old under mysterious circumstances. i do not think she committed suicide at all but she spent some time at the Rose of the World which is a culty organisation.

British TV producer and filmmaker Peter Pomerantsev has theorised that Korshunova's suicide was related to her involvement with Rose of the World, a controversial Moscow-based organisation which describes itself as "training for personality development". While researching for a documentary into Korshunova's death, Pomerantsev learned that the model spent three months attending training sessions at Rose of the World. These sessions—which encourage participants to share their worst experiences and recall repressed memories—are modelled after Lifespring, whose controversial methods were the subject of multiple lawsuits for mental damages in the US during the 1980s. Korshunova attended training sessions with a friend, Ukrainian model Anastasia Drozdova, who committed suicide under similar circumstances in 2009. Friends of the two women reported changes in behaviour after several months at the Rose. Korshunova became aggressive, while Drozdova experienced violent mood swings and grew reclusive; both lost weight. After three months of training, Korshunova returned to New York to look for work, where she wrote of feeling lost and doubting herself. Rick Alan Ross, head of the Cult Education Forum, argues that organisations such as Rose of the World "work like drugs: giving you peak experiences, their adherents always coming back for more. The serious problems start when people leave. The trainings have become their lives—they come back to emptiness. The sensitive ones break." Only months after leaving the Rose, Korshunova was found dead.

Michelle Pfeiffer- Bharani Sun, Purvaphalguni Moon, Rohini Rising

She was involved with Breatharianism, a cult that believes that you don’t need to eat food (Say what?!). She joined after moving to Los Angeles and looking for a group to feel comfortable with. They focused on diet and exercise but believed that people could live by sunlight alone at the highest level of the cult. She actually realized that she was in a cult after helping her first husband Peter Horton prepare for a movie role where he played a cult member. She said, “We were talking with an ex-Moonie, and he was describing the psychological manipulation and I just clicked.” (crazy to me that the not eating real food did not click??)

Rose McGowan- Purvaphalguni Sun & Mercury, Mars in Bharani

She spent her childhood in the Children of God cult and her family fled from its clutches after they started advocating for adult-child sexual intercourse🤮🤮🤮

Sharon Tate- Purvaphalguni Moon

Sharon wasn't a member of a cult but a victim of one :((((

Sofia Hayat- Purvaphalguni Moon

Sofia was a model, then she quit the industry to be a nun, now she calls herself a shaman and a healer and posts weirdly sexual vids on IG

Zaira Wasim- Purvaphalguni Moon

she quit acting to devote herself to religion and because she felt that being in Bollywood made her lose touch with her faith.

This is a very Venusian experience imo and one of the reasons why Venus thrives in keeping itself hidden or taking away other people's access to it is because otherwise Venusians feel contaminated almost?? other project onto them heavily and they feel clouded by it, unsure of their own identities. they feel like they're losing touch with themselves. many Venusian celebs are known for frequently changing their persona (Bella Hadid, Ariana Grande etc come to mind) the more time they spend exposing themselves to others, the more confused they become about who they are, they lack a stable self image.

Religion and faith can act as stabilisers and help these natives feel more grounded.

A reason why Venusians (idk if you noticed by most of the gurus were Purvashadas and most of the followers I mentioned were Purvaphalgunis, with an equal mix of Bharani natives in both) are drawn into cults is also because Venusians can only thrive in Venusian environments?? Otherwise they feel desolate and lost, a lot of people join cults because they don't feel understood or connected to people in their normal life. cults look for people who need help, and give it to them on predatory conditions.

Purvashadas are often spiritual leaders/gurus but seldom blindly devoted followers because being the final Venus nak, it transcends this toxic grip of Venus. Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus and these natives are constantly seeking spiritual truth and belonging but never quite ascending, as it is Venus at its most indulgent. Bharani is the first Venusian nak and I have found that the first nak of any planetary dominance is in some ways its "softest" manifestation, its the baby among the naks. The nak in the middle is the peak/height of that planetary energy and thus, the most cruel or harsh manifestation of that energy along with the concluding nak but the concluding nak also kind of transcends its influence??

high fashion/luxury etc is also very Venusian bc theyre the ones who covet having things others dont have. anywayyys this is just a stray thought lol

hope this was informative!!

[devilsminionzine]

Physical Zine Copies: Coming Soon!

We know that this is a question on a lot of minds and we appreciate your patience, BUT the release of physical copies of the Devil's Minions Minions Zine vol. 1 is almost upon us! We will be opening sales for physical copies on August 10, 2025! This will mark exactly two months since we first put the zine out into the world and is the perfect day to add a new way to enjoy our first volume.

Now for some frequently asked questions: How will I buy my physical copy? We are using a print-on-demand service called Blurb. Links will be shared on August 10 to their website to purchase your copy. Will the mods be making money? Absolutely not! Transparency and choice on how you spend your money is super important to us. This means that all copies will be sold at cost. You pay Blurb to print and ship your edition. No money comes our way.

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