#this is like a sampler or some shit

[heynhay]

heynhay klance animatic when?? 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 with all that free time of yours

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Chronic fatigue syndrome is both aptly named but also inaccurate bc they don't talk about the flip side of it where you're so exhausted you can't sleep at all

[insertdisc5]

TIMELOOP GAMES REAL!??!??!!

hi i made a timeloop game called In Stars and Time and this is a whole post about other timeloop games you can also play.

some i liked. some i loved. some i didnt like. all are worth playing and like also listen the second friends and family heard i was making a timeloop game, i got bombarded with timeloop media recs. so here is a sampler in no particular order! NOTE: knowing some of those games are timeloop games is a spoiler. but. you are here. for timeloop games. so timeloop games you shall have

Outer Wilds

If you need to play one timeloop game, it's this one. Please play it blind. I swear to god you won't regret it. it's timeloops in space!!! it makes you think!!! there are so many "HOLY SHIT WAIT I GET IT NOW" moments!!! please just go play it please please please. some of the best environmental storytelling in a game. so many hints in plain sight. JUST PLAY IT

[way more timeloop games under the cut]

Oxenfree

I didn't actually like Oxenfree very much. But also it stayed in my mind for weeks after I finished playing it. that's how you know it's a good game. I really enjoyed the dialogue system in this, and how much the loop affected the characters. and it got so spooky!!!

Hikeback

i'm in the credits for this one because i was one of the inspirations heehee <3 i loved playing it… short little game about trust, self-sabotage, and never-ending cycles. highly recommend it

The Stanley Parable

Listen babes it absolutely counts. I replayed it a bunch while making ISAT, and I got immensely inspired by the dialogue, and how it catches you off guard sometimes? You get SO SO used to the narrator's "All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean?" at the start of every game, and then for no reason instead it says "A soft wind blew outside and perhaps rain started, and if it did it stopped shortly after. Stanley hoped that he would one day see weather." like WHAT THE FUUUUCK IM GETTING CHILLS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

12 minutes

ok i know we all made fun of this game when it came out because the story is batshit insane HOWEVER!!!!!!!! i REALLY REALLY LOVED how doing the same actions multiple times would have slightly different outcomes. If you battle someone, the first time you get knocked out in one hit and the loop restarts. the second time you try, you evade the first hit, but get knocked out. the third time, you last a little bit longer, and a little bit longer, until you can pretty much hold your own against your enemy. And it applies to so many things in this. Retrying different things to see how they would change was a delight.

this game is also so bad its almost good, and if you're interested you HAVE to play it with friends so you can yell about how bad it is together.

Zero Escape

it's just a good series ok. escape rooms, and also time loops! the 3rd game in particular goes deep into The Math of how timeloops would work, which i think is interesting. sometimes timeloop games just go "yeah you can timeloop dont worry about it" and others go "OK HERE'S THE HOW AND WHY IT WORKS" and both are interesting!

START AGAIN: a prologue

this game has almost everything i could wish for in a timeloop game. depression. lines repeating. dying brings you back. you get new levels and skills because you're aware of the loops but your party members don't. so you get overpowered next to them and they Notice. just. party members who dont know about the loops still noticing something is wrong. you are acting differently than yesterday. you look sad. you are acting weird. you know too much. how did you know where the keys were? how did you know this would happen? what's wrong? talk to us. and oh my god this game has a sequel? which will probably have Actually Everything i could wish for in a timeloop game? i can't wait. who made this? (its me i made this)

Ghost Trick

ok its not really time loops and more time travel and only for 4 minutes HOWEVER!!!! you should play it. you know you should play it because everyone says so. so go play it

Elsinore

im sure its a great game but ive never seen/read hamlet. so thats a failing on my part. because. you absolutely need to know hamlet to understand this game lol i did like the whole "make sure to find out which events are Important and which ones aren't so you can have The Perfect Loop"! very fun. or it would be. if i. knew. hamlet

The Forgotten City

a friend kept recommending it to me and i didn't like it. its good! just not for me. but if you like to think a lot you should play it. another "make sure to find out which events are Important and which ones aren't so you can have The Perfect Loop" game

Gnosia

Gonna be real. I didn't like the story very much, in part because the game lets you choose your gender but still acts like youre a straight dude. HOWEVER the gameplay was very inspiring to me. Every loop is pretty much just an among us meeting, and you have to find out who the imposters are or everyone dies and you loop again. and sometimes you ARE the imposter, so you need to make sure no one finds out. or you loop again. rules get added as time goes on too. i REALLY loved how quickly the loops stacked up. seeing "loop 100" was such a nice moment. ive been here so long! i tried to recreate that somewhat for my own game…

Loop Hero

Technically not a timeloop game, but a loop game. It still absolutely counts because it's about loops and memories, and what are loops and memories together if not a timeloop. You have your little guy going through a closed loop, battling enemies, getting cards, and making the world whole again by using those cards to make forests, towns, lakes come to life. I am famously a Story First Gameplay Second kinda player, but I did play this 45h for the gameplay alone. I learned a lot about battle balancing and randomness by playing this!

You and Me and Her: A Love Story

you know doki doki litterature club? this came before. and one might say. it's. better. in some parts (and i say that as someone who LOVED ddlc!) i won't say much except it's a dating sim but with timeloops. with a lot of what it implies. why are you dating this girl a second time? a third time? a fourth time? choose another one already! it was such a fascinating game to play, and is incredibly meta in the way it talks about dating sims and visual novels. had a lot of very impactful moments however, i played the hentai version. some of the worst, most cringy sex ive ever read and heard. however, one might say the sex is an integral part of the game and its deconstruction of hentai/dating sims…? no. just play the steam version which doesnt have the horrible sex scenes and you will have a great time i think (or play the hentai version. if you like. to watch. horrible sex scenes???)

Higurashi

knowing this is a timeloop game is a massive spoiler. however, this game is more than a decade old, so,,, honestly if you havent played higurashi what are you doing. i know i just spoiled you on it but i was also spoiled on it and i can GUARANTEE YOU that you will still have an amazing time. one more thing. you gotta play with the original sprites or you're a fake fan

I Was a Teenage Exocolonist

starts as a visual novel/management sim/dating sim kinda thing, until you realize that every replay is a new timeline. so the main character can save people, because they remembered about them dying in a previous one. i wish the timeloop would affect the game/story more (let me find a certain character quicker once ive found them in a previous playthrough!!!), but timeloop aside, it's a very fun game to play!!!

that's it! hope you will find a nice timeloop game you like

[wincore]

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab <3

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

➥ Reply ⥣ 9,011 ⥥

. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops. 

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes. 

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another. 

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name. 

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot. 

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic. 

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.” 

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi. 

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints. 

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now. 

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly. 

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her. 

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too. 

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.  

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you. 

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously. 

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade. 

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder. 

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe. 

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm. 

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing. 

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek. 

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit. 

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis. 

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—” 

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees. 

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you’re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately  🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

[tgcg]

this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

01 - The Party

warnings: party party party yea, jk is a dickhead oops, drug/alcohol use, reader just wants to leave (someone help her pls), shitty parents, min yoongi is a saint <3 nepo baby reader !

w/c: 2.9k

!minorsdni! // masterlist

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

Seven. That's exactly how many times you have passed the same shitty run down house at the end of a sketchy cul-de-sac.

The bass of the music blares, the thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest from a few streets away. The door opens and closes, people flowing in one after another, all too familiar with this place. Red lights bleed through the windows.

Dressed in a pale purple Hervé Léger, direct from the archive of their 1996 Spring Summer collection. White pumps and a small Chanel handbag to match, tucked under your shoulder.

You stand in the line down the driveway, each person before you dropping a $5 bill into a tin bucket being held by someone who looks like they could have been hired to bodyguard you at premieres. You reach to grab a note out of your handbag, offering a small awkward smile to the broad shouldered man beside the door.

“Nah, it’s a tenner for you,” he says, his eyes locked straight ahead, the smirk on his face shows he’s clearly amused.

Truth is, you only had a hundred-dollar bill to offer, struggling to recall the last time you carried anything less than that.

Your face tightens slightly. You don’t look like the others—those who stumbled in before you, or the ones who will after you.

You drop the bill into the bucket, the crisp note fluttering down to rest atop the crinkled fivers. The man guarding the door watches it fall, letting out a scoff and shaking his head ever so slightly, as if to silently remind you that you’re not quite one of them.

You step inside. The hallway is cramped, leading you into a living room bathed in the harsh glow of cheap LED lights, taped along the ceiling trim. The red tint paints everything—walls, partygoers, the air itself. Black and white balloons litter the floor. The stench of burning cigarettes and pot is so thick, you can taste it. You’re certain you’ve lost at least three years off your life just by stepping inside this shit hole.

Fifteen minutes and two shots of cheap vodka that burn your pride more than your throat is enough time to realise this was a mistake. You need to leave.

You squeeze through the packed crowd of sweaty bodies, the exit finally coming into view. You swear you can almost feel the air getting cleaner with each step.

That is, until someone grabs your wrist, yanking you back so hard it feels like your arm might just rip out of its socket

"The fuck?" you almost squeal.

"No fucking way, the fuck are you doing here?"

Min Yoongi. He rubs his eyes, double-checking as if you’re some sort of hallucination from a bad batch of laced coke.

You don’t look any less shocked than he does. You came to this ‘party’ because of Yoongi. You knew he’d be here. Wanted to see him. That was until you had the very smart, very wise realisation that you do not belong here.

"Fuck kid, what the fuck? Are you like… Lost?" He is almost laughing at you, before he stops. "Don't tell me they sent you here for me?"

It's been 2 years since you last laid eyes on Yoongi in person. 2 years since he realised what you are slowly beginning to realise for yourself about the reality of your life.

Yoongi upped and left his trust-funded, posh, shiny life two years ago. His parents didn’t approve of him pursuing music instead of taking over the family’s oil business. They told him if he even considered it, they’d cut him off. It wasn’t until his dick of a father took a baseball bat to his beloved sampler and sequencer that Yoongi realised it was time to get out.

"Actually came here on my own account" you almost gag out. "Not here to kidnap you back to your tower. Came to see you though, I guess?"

Yoongi's brows are pinched together so harshly in confusion that you think he might earn himself a permanent wrinkle.

"How the fuck did you find me here?"

Truth is, his big mouthed cousin after a bottle or two of red told you Yoongi was having a 'psychotic breakdown' and ran to the slums of Daegu after daddy said no to him for the first time.

Which was a surprise to you, because his parents had told everyone he was in the States taking care of one of their many overseas companies.

Only took you two more glasses for her to tell you exactly where he was and what he had been up to.

You shrug, "People talk. You know how it is."

You try to excuse yourself, but Yoongi isn't really in the departing mood. Can't believe you are here. Isn't going to let you go without getting you a little fucked up, wants to see you down something that he knows you would never look twice at due to the lack of zero's on the price tag.

Yoongi had you down 4 shots of vodka, you had been surprised to see a bottle of Grey Goose calling your name on the table that's filled with red solo cups and cheap alcoholic bottles. Until you downed it and realised it was in fact, not Grey Goose, just a bottle that was refilled with something that tasted like pure fucking burning ass.

Yoongi had almost pissed himself from laughing at you, the look of disgust on your face as you realised.

Two full red soda cups of vodka lemonades later, and Yoongi was leading you toward a corner of the house. Four beaten-up leather couches formed a makeshift VIP area—exclusive, but still near the chaos of the party. Three men were sprawled out on the couches, girls draped beside, behind, and even on top of them.

A small coffee table center of the couches. Covered in red solo cups, packets of cigarettes, rolled bills and tiny ziplock bags filled with coke.

You sit beside Yoongi, your cup resting against your lips as you take in the scene before you. How the fuck was Yoongi living like this? Did he do this every weekend? Every night? Did he even enjoy it?

“I want out, Yoongs.” You glance over your shoulder at him, avoiding the daggers the girls send your way, dancing mostly for the guys on the couch. You stand out like a pair of dog balls.

While you’re dressed in a pale purple, fitted designer dress with white heels to match, they’re in black mini skirts, bras as tops, and fishnet stockings that should’ve been thrown out five holes ago.

“Hm?” Yoongi almost has to force his eyes off one of the way-too-fucked girls to look at you. “Oh, shit, yeah, of course, I’ll walk you out.”

You shake your head, biting the words back like they’re stuck in your throat, harder to get out than Yoongi had to tear his eyes away from the girl shaking ass just an arm’s reach away.

“No. I mean, I’m done. With them. With the rules, the fucking fakeness—all of it. Want out. Need out.” It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud, and it feels stupid now. If Yoongi ended up here, what fucking hope do you have?

“Oh, fuck, Bee, you for real?” Yoongi barely believed you, though there was still a trace of surprise in his voice. He’d always known you to enjoy the lifestyle you both were raised in—boat parties, private jets to islands for weekend getaways, never having a limit on what you wanted.

Bee. The nickname echoed in your head, almost drowning out the DJ in the center of the living room, blasting ‘Baby By Me’ by 50 Cent, constantly yelling for people to “put their fucking hands up or get the fuck out.”

Bee. A nickname you scored when Yoongi gave you your first blunt. He’d found his father’s sneaky stash and dragged you to the river by his parents’ Lake House one summer when you were 16. It felt good—until you got so paranoid that bees were swarming you. That’s when the nickname stuck.

"They want me married, like, married-married." You felt your stomach flip and turn itself inside out at the memory of the conversation.

"Honey, this could be really good for us. For you, too. Taehyung is a lovely boy, and we all know he's been in love with you since you guys were kids." Your mother sat opposite to you in the media room, a martini in hand.

Your father had nodded in agreement, "Think about it, his family owns the most luxurious hotel chain across the globe, you would benefit from it. We all would."

They can't be fucking serious. Surely not. Marriage? Me? Taehyung? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

"Taehyung and I aren't even a thing. He's a friend. I'm not marrying someone just because it would bring motion to your businesses."

A scoff earned from your mother, an eye roll from your father.

"What would Taehyung think? Both our parents putting us in an arranged marriage?" Your eyes dart from your father to your mother.

"He's the one who suggested it. Why do you think he's been visiting so often?" Your father cocks his eyebrow, almost challenging you to question him.

You shake the thought from your head, feel dizzy, might vomit that cheap vodka that should definitely be taken off the shelves if you think about it any longer.

"Who's the newbie, Min?" A voice calls huskily. He's sat on the couch to your left, a girl under his arm fiddling with the buttons of his loose black fitted shirt, sly smirks on both their faces.

He's sports a buzzcut, two lines by his temple just a tad shorter than the rest. A blunt between his fingers and one tucked behind his ear, two dimples peeking out when he talks.

“Didn’t have to hire someone, Min. We got plenty of company around here,” Joon smirks, his voice low and lazy, too faded to bother raising it.

“Fuck off, Joon. Don’t be a cunt,” Yoongi almost warns, lighting a cigarette before exhaling, his voice cutting through the air. “This is Bee, a friend of mine.”

Joon leans back, passing the blunt to the girl beside him, who’s still sizing you up. “You ain’t from these parts, huh, Bee?”

“Nah, do most of my whoring in the city.” You shoot back, your voice dry. “Out of your budget though, sorry.

The words come out a little sharper than intended, defensive maybe—but it’s the first time anyone’s implied that you might be a prostitute.

Yoongi chuckles, as does the pouty blonde on the couch to your right.

“Joon couldn’t afford you even if you gave it up for free,” the blonde says, his eyes barely open from the amount of whatever his substance of choice is. “Can barely afford fuckin’ ramyeon,” he continues, only to have Joon peg a lighter at him.

“Fuck up, both of you. She ain’t a fuckin’ hooker. We grew up together,” Yoongi says, leaning back into the couch but not before nudging your shoulder slightly.

You spend the next hour or so sitting stiffly on the worn, cracked black leather sofa, mostly talking to Yoongi, but every now and then, you throw a few words toward Jimin—the pretty blonde you’ve learned goes by that name.

You watch Yoongi hit the bong, once, twice, thrice. Joon’s tongue is tangled with the girl glued to his side. The party roars on around you, balloons being slapped through the makeshift living room-turned-dancefloor. You finish three more cups of vodka lemonade, the alcohol providing a small buzz that helps ease some of your discomfort.

Yoongi excused himself about ten minutes ago, mentioning something about a runner waiting for him outside. Jimin, who’d taken it upon himself to keep Yoongi’s seat warm, had to clarify it was a dealer, not some jogging partner.

You’ve been meaning to take advantage of the Yoongi-free space to make your escape—head home, and really think about whether you want to leave behind the life so many people would kill for.

But of course, your luck had gone to shit ever since you stepped inside this house. Jimin won’t stop fucking talking, rambling about how you look like you belong in some high-end museum in Paris, not a rundown, seedy weekend hotspot in the slums of Daegu.

Charming, sure. A sight for sore eyes, but honestly, you’d rather he pop a Xanax and pass out than snort another line, just so you can slip out unnoticed.

Yoongi returns, dropping a black plastic bag onto the table, earning a few excited whistles and whispers. And then, just like that, he’s gone again—girl in tow, disappearing upstairs.

That’s your cue. The small group around you all focused the black bag, oblivious to the rest of the world now. You go to stand, ready to slip away before Jimin decides to continue to yap. But just as you move, the one person you’ve barely registered catches your eye.

He’s been there the whole time, opposite you, but always hidden behind the girl on his lap or his head low, in his own little world.

He’s sitting upright now, practically shoving the girl off his lap as soon as Yoongi dropped the black bag onto the table. His eyes lock onto it like it’s the juiciest fucking steak and he’s the lion, ready to devour it.

A slow, deliberate lick of his lips, then his arm—now visible with tattoos that wrap around his skin—extends toward the table. He dumps the bag, and the contents spill out like a treasure chest: dozens of tiny ziplocs filled with coke.

You can't help but fucking stare. Think your mother would have begged him to be a model for her clothing lines. Gorgeous. A shaggy mullet framing his face, which he's now tying up into a small sprout at the back of his head.

He eagerly lowers himself to the floor, grabs a rolled up bill and a card. Carves out equal lines of the coke, you don't know shit about coke other than half the people in the high society you're surrounded by daily need it to keep themselves sane.

As he focuses on the lines, it’s like watching someone in a trance—completely in control, the movement fluid and natural. He brings the rolled bill to his nostril, blocking the other side with his finger, then snorts down the line.

Then, repeats.

You can barely make out the details of his face from where you’re sitting, but the red lights catch the glint of a lip ring on his lower lip, catching your attention for a second. He rubs his face, then slides back into his seat.

This time though, his head isnt hanging low. It's pointed directly at you. Expressionless, zoned out as he stares you down.

Jungkook had noticed you long before you even stepped inside. He saw you lingering outside, pacing back and forth. At first, he thought you were some kind of undercover cop, but when he saw you talk to Yoongi after trying to slip out unnoticed, it all made sense. You were just another pampered, stuck-up rich bitch from Yoongi’s past.

He watched you, though, took note of everything. The way you eyed the cheap alcohol like it was beneath you. The way you stiffened when Joon made his comment, like you were trying to hold yourself together. Thinks if you were a hooker, maybe he’d pick up an extra shift at the restaurant. He noticed you turn down the blunts Jimin kept offering, like you were too good for that too.

You didn’t belong here. People like you never did. Jungkook doesn’t want you here, doesn’t want anyone who’s tied to the life Yoongi left behind. He fucking hates it. Hates the reminders, hates everything about it. Decides he hates you, too.

His stare doesn't falter, eyes locked on you, steady and unblinking. He wants you uncomfortable. Wants you out. Hates the way your dress is too colorful. Hates the gold jewelry, delicate and shiny around your neck and wrist-he prefers silver. Hates the way your legs have made him hard. Out. Get out.

"Want one?" He drawls lazily, that cocky grin tugging at his lips as he tilts his head toward the coke.

You glance at the last line on the table, then back at him. He holds out the rolled-up bill, smirking.

You shake your head, "All good, thanks."

"What? Too good to snort from a fiver?" He laughs, tossing the bill to Jimin without taking his eyes off you.

Jimin cuts his own stack of lines, less organised than Jungkook's were. Snorts one and stands up, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes dart around for Yoongi, if the vibe of this shit box wasn't enough, the man sitting opposite sending you snarky remarks and eye daggers definitely was.

You know you don’t belong here. You didn’t need the overgrown, practically bald one to remind you that you look like an expensive fuck, or the band-tee-wearing asshole who’s probably three lines away from a collapsed septum to tell you the same.

As you lean back into the couch, counting the minutes until you can wish Yoongi a goodbye and a “good fucking luck,” another man stumbles into the closed-off section. He trips over your legs, collapsing down at the coffee table.

“Watch your fuckin’ step, Hobes. We can’t afford to scratch up the girl. Probably has leg insurance or some shit,” Joon snorts, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

He turns to face you, "Sorry darlin', don't sue me, I can only afford to pay in mixtapes" He chirps, giving your leg a once over.

Ah, the DJ. The one who was screaming for everyone to put their fucking hands in the air. Who now has his hands in the air feigning defence.

You roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his more positive nature, feeling slightly eased by his lightheartedness.

But what really bothers you now isn’t the trust fund, nepo baby jabs. It’s the pair of narrowed, dark eyes glaring at you from the couch opposite.

Unwavering. Harsh. Piercing.

✩ ₊ ˚. ⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧

[rafesapple]

taking rafe w/ u on makeup restock

rafe cam x reader

!sensitive peony reader

As Rafe parks the car, you unbuckle and grab your purse, before you can even open the door Rafe’s already on the other side “Come on..make it a quick trip.” he spoke as he pulled you out of the seat by your hand. You walk next to him to the store speaking up “Can you hold my purse so I can hold the basket?” you asked softly “Mmm give it here..” he spoke gently as you handed it over.

You grabbed a shopping basket as you both stepped in, one of the workers greeting you both “I think I need some more blush..” you muttered softly to yourself. Rafe followed behind admiring as you shopped “Hand me your wrist.” you asked holding up a blush, he held it out confused “For what..” he quieted down watching you blend the blush onto his skin “Oh..”

You looked up at him with your pretty small smile as he spoke up again “Want that one?” “mhm.” You put it in the basket going off to the dior section “I saw a new pink palette..wanted to see if it was pretty in person.” “Mmm I’ll buy it if you like it.” he groveled out following behind you like a guard dog..or maybe a puppy? You didn’t know.

You look over the eye shadow palette quietly with your hand behind your back, “you like it?” Rafe asked while running his gaze over you. “mhm...but I don’t know if it’ll go well with my undertones..” “Let me see..” you hand over the sampler to him, and he holds it up to you for not even giving you five seconds “It’s pretty with you.”

You smile and start to laugh “You didn’t even look at me with it..” “ion need to.. I know you’ll be pretty with it.” he grunted out, getting two of the pallets and putting them in the basket. You smile up at him as you walk with him “Are you sur-“ “I know I am.”

After another twenty minutes of shopping and putting random stuff on Rafe’s wrist, you both walk back to the car (with him holding your bags which he had made you give to him) he helps you get into the car, placing the bag of makeup into your lap. Rafe buckled you up and headed to the other side “Ready?” he asked looking over at you “Mhm..thank you for buying..!” He smiled then chuckled “It’s alright... I like spoiling ‘ya..” you continue smiling to yourself.

As he drove focused on the road, you saw a bag of white powder hanging out..wasn’t surprising as he did..well what he did. You try to ignore it as you both drive back to his house You hopped out of the car following behind him to the front door, you slipped off your shoes as you stepped in. “I'm gonna go use the bathroom right quick.” he spoke “mm I’ll be in your room.” You run off upstairs to his room, sitting down in front of the floor mirror as you tip the stuff you bought out.

You start testing it out while humming to yourself, Rafe steps in sitting down next to you “mm so fuckin pretty, baby..” he smiled as he kissed your neck. You continue to think about the baggie from earlier while smiling with an underlying..feeling so to say. “mm..” Rafe pulls away “What’s wrong.. sounds like sum bothering you.” “nothing’s wrong.”

You smile a bit fakely and it fades off “Just..you still dealing with..your business..?” “I’ve told you, you don’t need to worry about it, okay baby doll?” “But..rafe I just want to know..you never tell me and I-“ he cuts you off “I told you, I’m not getting you involved in that shit. your always going on and on about it. I know you wanna know but I’m not letting you near it,” he spoke pissed off with his tone raised at you.

Tears started to spill with a soft whine “babe..no come on... I ain’t meant it like that..” he spoke gently bringing you into his arm “‘m sorry..” you choked out “Nah...no...it’s alright..here.. I'm gonna tell you once I got some shit sorted out..kay? I’ll let you know what ‘m doing.”

You look up at him with flushed cheeks, tears, and red eyes “Really..?” you groaned out “Mhm.” he spoke kissing your forehead “Really, really?” you asked again, and he laughed in your head “Really really..”

[bowenoke]

got my new bottle of my regular cologne today and since the gift giving season is rapidly upon us I am going to share my favorite perfumer with you all in case you've got young adult book nerds or dnd players who already have a library card and too many dice but who haven't quite figured out what they wanna smell like on your list: wylde ivy

They've got collections (w/ sampler sets, if you're looking for gifts) based on:

Edgar Allen Poe (smell like coffee and leather. It's not labeled unisex, but ymmv; i have a midnight dreary + this castle by the sea which have notes of leather/coffee/smoke + stone/salt/wood/sage. The other scents in the collection lean floral, sweet and fruity. Kind of a gender maximalist collection. For your coolest friend.)

the Concept of Adventure (my favorite, both for myself + for giving gifts to people who like games and stories with sprawling maps- wayfarer. unisex collection)

Ren faires (unisex, and also one of them has notes of corn?? apparently??? so)

3 different types of ocean/sea sets, not counting Wayfinder which has some sea-adjacent scents

Halloween AND Jack's Woods (spooky!) (stone cairn my beloved) (some are unisex, some are not)

Omens (some are unisex, some are not, but more importantly you can smell like the number 13)

Flowers :) (least unisex of the ones I'm featuring but tbh I'm guessing most of you aren't shopping for exclusively transgender + nonbinary people)

Tbh most perfumes/colognes dont make great gifts for my friends, because a lot of them are still figuring out their shit, the perfume scents aren't well explained, or the obviously gendered scent isn't gonna work. Instead i can get either a full bottle of Fun Space perfume or a sampler of 5 bottles of Rock Themed Perfumes. You can make your own sampler of their entire stock or a premade themed set. It's fun to walk out the door going "i smell like an old map :)" and they've so far been a hit as gifts. Also you can choose to smell like smoke and corn. And I think you should choose to smell like smoke and corn, if given the option

[hyenaswine]

when searching for tips on washing embroidery/xstitch sometimes you will find people who are like "ummm i just make sure i always have clean hands when i sew so i don't have to wash my pieces 😇" & i want you to know those people are idiots. you have oils in your skin that come FROM your skin no matter how clean it is; you are a human being & this is perfectly normal. this is how your body is supposed to work - these freaks who think they don't produce oil aren't cleaner than you, they're just wrong.

i don't personally care if you choose to wash your work when you're done - i think maybe there's something about those oils being invisible at first but sometimes staining the fabric over time, idk you'll have to look it up - & i'm not gonna think you're dirty or gross if you don't; it's your art & your choice, & your body is not gross for being human. i always wash my pieces when i'm done just because it makes me feel better about sending them off to other people (where they're no longer in my control), & also because i live with a chronically ill cat who sneezes on anything & everything i own. i just assume by default that everything in my home has cat snot on it whether i can see it or not.

i have a black plastic witch's cauldron which was previously a halloween decoration that i just fill with warm water & a drop of dish soap. i put my finished pieces in there to soak for 10-20 minutes; at least once you should agitate the water a bit, like a washing machine would, & sometimes you might have to scrub a piece against itself if there's a visible mark you're trying to get out (i use this ancient red tailor's crayon on some darker fabrics that i often have to scrub to erase). dump the water out, put cool water in, dump it out, keep doing that until there are no more suds in the water, or just take the piece out & rinse it if you're lazy. you're not supposed to wring it out, but again, i'm lazy & i don't like carrying sopping fabric through my house. then you gotta lay it on a towel & if it's a larger piece, roll the towel up & twist it to wring it out in THERE, which is apparently okay. then iron the piece from the back so you don't flatten your stitches. after that i pop my piece straight onto a high shelf in my closet to dry, so that the damn cat doesn't have a chance to get any of his germs on it.

anyway nobody asked for my advice or details of my personal embroidery-washing routine, but advice that's like "just don't be dirty in the first place 😇" is literally so unhelpful & infuriating. that's not advice cuz you aren't offering a solution to the problem (aside from acquiring a time machine) & you clearly don't KNOW what the actual answer is anyway, or else you'd know that your hands are never truly clean & you're framing work that might end up revealing all your grimy little sins as it ages. washing your work is a pain but it's not so impossible as to not be worth doing if you want to or need to. cuz sometimes your cat plants a fat booger right in the middle of your dainty little sampler & you need to know how to fix that shit, because not allowing your cat to sit on your lap while you're sewing is clearly NOT an option.

[greed-the-dorkalicious]

All the discussion around AI lately got me thinking about an incident recently in which a guy got his ass sorely beat by the vocal synth community

For those of you not familiar, “vocal synths” in the electronic music sense typically refers to programs like Vocaloid, SynthV, UTAU, Alter/Ego, DeepVocal, etc., digital instruments that allow composers to create, as the name implies, synthesized vocal tracks. The way they work is that they draw from libraries (referred to as “voicebanks” or VB for short) of special studio recorded* vocal samples from singers singing different syllables at a consistent pitch. The program then splices these together and adjusts the pitch to match whatever notes you put in- You want to do All Star, it’s gonna string together “[suh][m] [buh][di] [wuh][n][s] [tO][ld] [mi]” or something like that. Basically it’s an extremely complicated sampler.

(*unless you’re using UTAU or another build-your-own-vocal program in which the “studio” is only metaphorical, and is sometimes somebody’s basement with a Rockband mic plugged into a laptop.)

Now, there is no threat of vocal synths putting actual singers out of a job. Even the best vocal synths always have a bit of a robotic sound to them, and the voicebanks take hundreds of hours of recording time from you know, actual singers. Any piece made with vocal synths has to be worked by a human hand in a process called “tuning” in order to sound any good, whether you’re trying to make it sound human or leaning into the robotic sound. This isn’t something that’s being done on a corporate scale to cut costs- This is something pretty much exclusively being done by small scale indie music hobbyists because we fucking love Hatsune Miku and her weird buddies. Most folks are less interested in doing something that sounds 1:1 like a human voice and more in going beyond what humans can do to make shit like this

One of the leading vocal synths right now is Synthesizer V (SynthV), created by a company called Dreamtonics. SynthV offers fancier versions of some of its voicebanks, which are called “AI” voicebanks. These use machine learning trained on, again, professionally recorded and legally licensed vocal samples to help make songs sound a little bit more smooth, a little bit more in line with whatever singing style you’re aiming for. Everything else previously mentioned still applies: They’re still painstakingly recorded and programmed, you still need to tweak it yourself to get it to sound just right, and it’s still never going to sound 100% like a human. And that’s fine!

For this next bit y’all are gonna have to trust me because the tweets all got deleted, though if anyone wants I’m happy to pull up screencaps of talking shit about it with other vocal synth folks when it happened lmfao

So basically. Since ChatGPT type grifters have convinced people that “AI” means “magic plagiarism button”, back in April some dipshit NFT guy on Twitter started complaining on an official SynthV update post that SynthV (which he apparently believed to be called “Dreamtonics”, the name of the company that makes it) should allow people to make voicebanks from “their own voice”, insisting that it would be easy and PROFITABLE!™ to do so. He also clearly did not actually mean “their own voice” but rather “the voices of celebrity singers shamelessly lifted without their consent”, which was made extra obvious from a tweet on his own page that was like “Teehee people in monitored Twitter spaces don’t realize their voices are being recorded and fed into AI!” which he then deleted after I linked it on the thread about SynthV. lol.

Dude proceeded to get whupped by actual vocal synth people basically saying shit along the lines of “Yeah we can all tell you just want to commit cheap plagiarism, jackass” and “Dude why are you here when you clearly don’t understand the very very basics of what this software even is” and “Go make an UTAU voicebank if it’s so easy then”. (UTAU being a Japanese freeware program that hasn’t been updated since 2013. Creating an UTAU voicebank is complicated and takes a lot of time and technical knowledge.) He still refused to learn the basics of how vocal synths work, and proceeded to ask if “UTAU or Diff is most compatible with Dreamtonics”, a question absolutely no one could make any sense of? Lol.

Anyway, I don’t have anywhere in particular I’m going with this, I just think AI grifters are morons, and it’s obnoxious how the vague and misleading term “AI” has gotten nigh-mythologized by shady tech companies to the point that people can’t tell the difference between perfectly reasonable assistive technology and magic plagiarism.

Btw, fun fact for anyone who’s wondering, there do in fact exist legally/morally questionable UTAU voicebanks spliced from outside vocals. These are called “jinriki” voicebanks and not only do they take the same amount (if not more) of hard work as any other voicebank, they’re far from the insta-Beyoncé this dude was aiming for, and instead they sound um. like this

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Do You See 2000 IDM / Electro

Alright, back on some electronic shit for today. Here we have a 12-inch sampler from a little, short-lived label out of the UK called deFocus, which was run by Clair Poulton, a woman who first cut her teeth at Aphex Twin's own Rephlex label before launching a label of her own called Clear; and then after Clear closed up shop, she started up this one.

Do You See represents the first of two 12-inch releases that showcased the type of music that deFocus' roster was cooking up at the time at the turn of the millennium, which happened to be mostly different shades of IDM. Some of it was fused with an old school electro vibe too though, like "Touched," which was by a group called Aphelion, and "Mystery One," which was by Mystery, whose own identity (or identities) appears to've indeed been a mystery! Both of these tracks come with pretty standard electro backbeats, but their respective vibes seem to be diametrically opposed to one another—"Touched" has a chemically icy whimsiness to it and "Mystery One" seems to be more interested in plumbing the depths of hell 👹. (And for more Aphelion, you can also check them out as Replicant on the breathtakingly chill, 10-plus-minute beaut' from 1996 that is "Analiz.")

But while those are certainly both two pretty sweet tunes, I don't think that they really hold a candle to another type of IDM that's on here: the more emotive kind that likes to surround all those pecky and glinty, rhythmic IDM bits with captivatingly fluffy clouds of melody and lush synth pads. Plus One's "Mayday," which was written by Plus One himself, but actually produced by the one and only legendary IDM duo of Plaid, is one such example, as it first supplies old and dramatic, cinematic string work, but progressively floods the remainder of its track with a beautiful blend of electronic, intertwining synths that sound significantly much more sci-fi-modern. You think that this song's hitting its creative peak at about a third of the way through when it adds its first new synth to pair with all these strings, but it actually has multiple more levels to ascend through, which is definitely gratifying, but doesn't even seem all that necessary, given that it's already achieved its status as a chief highlight of this record once that first new synth is poured in in the earlier going! 😌

And then for a song that appears to mix some of the electro vibe with that lush and lovely synth work, we have the pretty sublime "Commuter Love" by CiM to close us out. It's not nearly long enough, but in a similar way to Mystery's "Mystery One," it too has a bit of a sinister underlying synth to it, but in this song's case, the light of the trancey twinkling stabs that arrive soon afterwards seem to do a lot to neutralize much of that darkness.

So every track's a highlight on this one as deFocus puts forth an IDM statement here that looks back on the past with a deliberate eye on elements of electro, but seems to have its other eye trained on the future too. And when you have a pair of eyes that appear to be looking in completely opposite directions from one another, then I guess what you can say is that their combined eyesight is definitely, well...deFocused (<_>).

Check out my post from earlier this year on Two You See too, which also has an alternative hip hop track by Jon Tejada on it that features abstract rap veteran Divine Styler.

Highlights:

Lackluster - "Starcell UK" Aphelion - "Touched" Plus One - "Mayday" Mystery - "Mystery One" CiM - "Commuter Love"

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/30/2024

a good 60% of my brain is screaming in unemployment terror at all times so these will be somewhat abbreviated until that situation resolves itself

listening

sleeping on the ceiling by friday pilots club. this is a song by a five-piece alt-rock band from chicago that could EASILY open for mid-aughts fall out boy. i would like to think it is from the point of view of a freshly-turned vampire. listen this slot isn't about the best song i heard this week it's about the one that got stuck in my head the most

Hey, I swear I'm okay Honey, I been sleepin' on the ceiling all day Yes way, like hey I swear I feel great Looky, looky, love the feeling of being okay Yes way

spotify.

reading

Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and the Amulet of Power by Mike Resnick. it was in a dollar book bin and i got it as a joke gift for a friend. mike resnick is a remarkably prolific writer who's done a lot of tie-ins. i don't have anything particularly notable to say about his star wars books but they are a sort of minimum viable product? they feel star warsy and don't annoy me on every page.

this book was published in 2003 and treats the people of the Nile delta and their beliefs with all the delicacy you might expect from a 2003 video game tie in novel. i do think the twist is being telegraphed way too hard. perhaps i should say instead of sending a telegram mr resnick has simply set the telegraph office ablaze as a signal fire. the titular triangle-pointed woman herself ms croft is VERY insistent she's just as good as the boys. this is pretty on par for my experience of 2003 empowering womens' feminism AND my experience in a male-dominated field so i can't really ding it too hard? aside from the racism, in the notably racism-free fields of archaeology and video games and archaeology video games, this book is aging a little strangely overall. i do not know if i will finish it before i mail it out to my friend, but despite its sins it is a very fast read.

watching

watched the four dungeon meshi episodes. it's cute! ProzD was an unexpected delight! it made me want to make something fancy for dinner but alas i still have to go food shopping!

some posts on my dash were talking about how the episode with the mollusks inside the living armor really got them hooked and i have to agree. i also saw the full potential of the show's speculative biology unspooling before me. i don't know if i currently have the brainwidth for the manga but it is going on my reading list for after i finish berserk. which is kind of like saying i'm going to watch chopped after i finish up hannibal

playing

forgot i had an original gen switch, given to me through a complex series in a complex series of friend barters back in uhhhh late '21? early '22? i got through 3/4 of the divine beasts the first time around and then could not crack the camel. it was well past time to create a new switch profile so i could start a new game without losing the old one.

omg twinnsssssssss

i did forget how goddamn big the map is. i have just now unlocked the camera and the memory quests, i have not really. done much more than basic tutorial and beginning of game stuff.

making

anxiously junebugging between a whole bunch of shit. finally figured out the correct charger/extension cord setup for my bedroom. replaced all the fluorescent lightbulbs and took them to be recycled. fixed the hall door enough so it latches closed and an irritated cat can't claw it open. tidied up the balcony and patio and repotted the surviving houseplants.

in textile news, started this cross stitch. this is a Bless This Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy Star Wars themed sampler, i have made two as gifts and had to throw out a mostly-completed one i made for me bc of the moths. but i now know exactly where this will go in this apartment and i already have the frame and i bought all the floss pre-being fired, so might as well? the real bitch of the situation here is backstitching the buildings. it's so start and stop. it's so much tan. i talked about this on the weekly siblingchat facetime and now my brother has requested one lmao. that's his christmas gift settled. i suppose.

i had somehow forgotten how loadbearing textile crimes are for me. i haven't done much of anything since the moth debacle, and that was almost two years ago. last night i found some suspicious holes in a camisole and i'm really really hoping it's just cat claws and not moths or carpet beetles or any other fun things that eat clothes.

[docholligay]

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

This is when I'm supposed to tell you about the weight of history and what it is to see the human experience of the human experience all collected into a large building, and how it being labyrinthine is a part of the art itself, giving one the feeling of the human journey, up and down and backwards and lost, always lost, but surrounded by beauty and blah blah I'm sure it would have been very evocative and I'm clever as shit or whatever but honestly one of my FAVORITE things to do in museums is play games with myself. I like to pick categories, and find things that fit them, and here's a sampler of what I found

Something I’d like to steal: 

This punch bowl could very possibly hold two gallons of my sangria in one go, which would enable me to be an even better hostess, not having to constantly be looking to see if the sangria needs to be refreshed with the jugs from the kitchen waiting in the wings. There’s such an intensely organic feel to it, I just think it would feel good to carry this. I feel like I always pick a serving piece for this category--I always spend a lot of time in the functional arts--but in fairness, that’s the things I like and also, it sounds very frivolous to say that I love throwing parties, but it’s a part of connecting with my community, and I think, in some way, serving them. Genuinely, I would love to host something like a Sailor Moon mixer or something if people could teleport in. That’s what I do for my congregation, is basically catering for the shabbat meal. Anyway, I would use the SHIT out of this for the Shabbat meal, and also for parties. 

Something that moved me:

This is The Angel of Death and the Sculptor, and I must have stared at it for five solid minutes. My mom was wondering what in the hell I was looking at, and it was hard to describe. There is something so beautiful about the way the young sculptor is caught by his wrist, in the middle of his art. It will ever be unfinished, but no less the beautiful for that imperfection. The look on his face, as I moved around the piece in the corner of the Parisian-style square set into the Met, that horror and knowledge all in one. The Angel of Death cannot look him in the eye. He does what she needs to do, and then moves on, but that in no way means that each work is wanted, and this is not the act of calling an ill old man home. He was scultping the sphinx! He was doing greatness! But that matters not at all, when Death comes to call. I thought about it a lot then, if I had been alone I might have sat there and written down every fool thought that came into my head, but I wasn’t, and so I moved on, but it was lovely, and I was really touched by it. 

Something I learned: 

I did not know this kind of multi-shelved thing made to hold mostly objects was called an étagère! I had seen them plenty in interiors, but hadn’t connected a name to them.

The ugliest thing i saw: 

This fucking??? “Display platter”??? So it’s a platter, but you can’t use it as a platter because you have the ugliest fuckign fish this side of Billy the Big Mouth Bass over here blocking every useful part of the platter, joined by his good friend why the fuck is there a crawdad desperately trying to escape this place, and several venomous snakes circling the place. This looks like something my beloved and very sexy wife would buy at a garage sale for 2 dollars and put up in the garage because I deemed it too ugly to hang by the dead animal skulls in our house.

[zombeesknees]

currently in the life of the angie bee:

my sense of time is strangely broken, because it's almost 6pm but my brain is all, "gosh, it's not even noon yet!" and i have no fuckin idea why.

i've been deodorizing and washing and cleaning the house all day because i feel like there's a particularly sour smell throughout it, but now i'm wondering if it's me, and i don't know why i'm suddenly smelling so sour??? like, it's not a sweat smell, it's a sour, musty smell, and i'm still using the same shampoo and body washes i always do, and it's not as if my diet's changed significantly, so wth is going on??? IS IT A SIGN THAT I'M DYING OF SOME WEIRD DISEASE??? i know folks with diabetes sometimes smell strangely sweet, but i've never heard of something that makes you smell sour. OR IS IT ALL IN MY HEAD AND PSYCHOSOMATIC??? i'm not just gonna go up to someone and be like, "do you think i smell weird?"

quint remains one of the Characters of All-Time (and a Happy Jaws Day to all who celebrate it).

(yeah, i don't celebrate the 4th, what a bullshit holiday, we have nothing to be proud of as a country, especially these days.)

dropped $288 this morning on two and a half weeks-worth of groceries for one person. and that was buying basic, off-brand shit. how the fuck did we get to this.

slight silver lining: i have today, tomorrow, and the full weekend off, and i get to spend time with joel tomorrow AND see shara and nichole on sunday.

i set my reading goal for the year at 50 books (something i didn't come close to achieving last year, thanks to a reading block that set in in march and didn't let up for the rest of the year). and in the last two weeks i hit 54 books (almost all of them new-to-me, which is ALSO amazing). my unmedicated ADHD bullshit may still be preventing me from watching new shows and movies, but at least it's eased off on the reading front.

a new dude joined our book club this week and he's CUTE and likes fantasy and is a high school social studies/history teacher, and we discussed character archetypes for like ten minutes. maybe next club meeting i'll actually give him my number and ask him out.

wimsey has spent a full week in the flower donut collar thanks to scratching his chin raw and bloody. vet recced treating him with revolution in case it's because of mites, washing the wound with a special antibiotic flush, and keeping him in the collar until everything's fully healed/his fur grows back in. makes for a hella grompy flower:

god, leverage really is just the best show. doesn't matter how many times i watch it; i'm forever delighted and impressed with just how well written/constructed/everything it is. that's my emotional support family of thieves, your honor.

i'm getting SO CLOSE to filling out the final gaps in the current sections of my hazeldine WIP, and i really do think i'm gonna have to split it into two volumes instead of making it all vol. 6 as i had originally planned. but IF i do that, that means vol. 6 is gonna HAVE to end on a significant cliffhanger, which i typically try to avoid. (yes, technically all of the previous vols have ended on cliffhangers, since this is a continuing story spread over several volumes. but they haven't been LITERAL cliffhangers, with someone on the verge of death or something.) i don't like when books in a series i'm reading do that, so i try not to inflict that on my own readers. but perhaps i can mitigate it slightly by making sure both vols 6 AND 7 are fully polished/ready for printing, and release them like a month apart or something, so there isn't a huge wait in between...

FINALLY finished the replacement cross-stitch sampler of lighthouses for a gal from work (the first one got lost in the mail beginning of last month). now i can continue working on the Yee Dudes series for my bud jordan <3

but also i'm gonna try to design a pattern for myself re: a dracula joke that keeps popping into my head: descending the castle, lizard-fashion. i'm probably the only person who is THIS delighted/amused by that joke, but i'll enjoy stitching something for myself for a change, lol.

[realmikedirnt]

w's for the day !

- did some tidying upstairs (put some beads away, a bunch of recycling and trash, consolidated the rest of the laundry that needs doing)

- went to Mass

- deposited the cash from watching the house

- capped tomes & bought three of the pieces i need

- listed a bunch of materia n shit

- prepped & froze all the chicken i bought

- had rlly good chocolate cake w/berry compote & powdered sugar

- got a LOT queued/cleared out of my likes

- finished my chem homework

- ordered twisted monk sampler

[pagansprite]

okay so this weekend was my dionysia bc i was at a furry convention. fur cons are so incredibly dionysian and the dionysia is a spring time festival and my local fur con is in the spring so it just makes sense.

and my worship was already planned to be really casual, but it ended up being super extra mega casual lmao.

i couldn't find my travel shrine while i was packing (bummer bc i had just painted a perfect little box for it) but i figured i could still do the rituals i had planned, just do them without an altar.

i ended up being so busy with my friends that i only had time for reading one of the prayers i had planned and pouring wine into the sink.

but i thought about him the entire time. he influenced 90% of the decisions i made this weekend. i put on makeup (for the first time in years) for the rave i was going to. i stood at my friend's trunk in the parking lot, and smudged shimmery makeup on my eyelids, and that was for dionysos.

i went to a con rave, for the first time in years, and there were so many ppl dancing in different styles, and doing all kinds of fancy shit with glow sticks and fiber optics and shit. there were wallflowers just kind of bouncing along instead of dancing. there were chairs for ppl to sit if they couldn't, or didn't want to, dance. there were earplugs at the door. everyone was enjoying the music and lights in their own way. that was dionysos.

i bought a cheesecake sampler to share with my friends (for my birthday !) on saturday. at one point i would have thought it was kind of sad that i essentially bought my own birthday cake. but i had the idea to do it because i wanted to do something special with my friends. i wanted to get some kind of special treat to share with my friends !! and i didn't realize it then, but that was for dionysos (and hermes)

there were all kinds of artists selling all kinds of art, and i spent without really keeping track of my money but when i looked at it today it wasn't more than i would have budgeted myself if i had been keeping track. and bc i wasn't keeping track of it, i wasn't anxious the entire time about how much i was spending. that was dionysos (and hermes again lmaoooo)

i was surrounded by all kinds of queer people. like if you line up 10 furries 7 of them are some form of queer. and ppl are making themselves visibly queer. i was recognized as queer in a way that felt comfortable and friendly. that was dionysos.

one of my favorite events at this convention is Whose Lion, which is comedy improv a la whose line is it anyway, run for audience participation. ppl volunteer on the spot to do improv comedy games with strangers. the host says 'this is the best place to try improv bc this is the best audience bc i can murder hecklers' which actually keeps ppl from being assholes if someone gets stuck or if a joke doesn't land. and that's dionysos. (and then during the '''''''professional''''''''' whose lion, done with the host, there was a joke about dionysos, by name, in reference to dying and resurrecting. so ya kno.)

i got high with my friends, and drunk with my friends, but i was responsible and didn't go overboard. that was for dionysos.