#steam marketing art

[art-of-reinav]

I can design game logos and game UIs 👉👈😳 Here are the examples~~

Portfolio • Twitter  • Kofi •  Pillowfort  • Bluesky

•  Please do not repost my art  

[night-market-if]

The Night Market

Welcome to the Night Market! The nexus point between all the worlds. Lost and confused, play a character searching for a way home. Uncover secrets of the world, meet a cast of vastly different characters, and remember, that not all is as it seems. Over a million word interactive fiction for your viewing pleasure, actively updated and passionately loved.

Book One is complete!

Book Two TBA

Demo 🌿Steam🌿Itch.io🌿 Patreon 🌿Discord🌿FAQS

Art credit to @mooreaux

[thewakingcloak]

Trying Some Stuff

So I said I would Try Some Stuff last time, and the most valuable thing I've been trying is talking with friends about all this stuff. Who knew?

In review: I need some kind of sustainable, healthy way to communicate online about the stuff I'm making. That is how I want to connect with people, via my games.

But in talking with my friends, I realized it had to be more than just "sustainable," it has to actually drive the engine forward. It has to be fun. Whatever this ends up being, I have to look forward to working on it, and working on it has to push forward the game development, which will fuel the devlog, which will fuel the game development.

So if you caught that, I'm just going with calling this future strategy thing a "devlog". Not "marketing," not "engaging on social media," not "feeding the algorithm beast." I don't know what form a devlog will take. I mean it could just be this, what I’m doing right now (and this will certainly continue). One friend suggested doing devlog videos. A long time ago I did gamedev streams, and that was fun, and I also cut together little highlight reels, and that was fun. So that may be A Thing. It may not, too, because I don't know if I can actually consistently do something like that. Editing videos is a lot of work. Streaming is, too, especially with our baby's feeding/sleeping schedule. But I'm enjoying thinking about it.

And that's really good, because every time I've thought about online presence recently, I've just wanted to shrivel up and die. Maintaining social media, to me, is misery, is bowing before an algorithm, sacrificing my wellbeing to a human-made god that doesn't care. "If you're Really Lucky, I might show your sacrifice to the other sacrifices, and if you're Astronomically Lucky, a few might like it. Now let me drink your blood and fill your veins with toxic liquid instead via my evil ritual. Also, you have to post all your stuff in gifs, the worst image format known to humankind, but not that way, this way. No not like that, like this."

I'm over that.

If a social media platform doesn't fit what I want to do, I'm going to cut it.

(wow that gif is old… nice to see Tav though, right?)

I'm starting with Twitter (I'm not going to call it X). Twitter is not fun for me and never has been. So I'm actually, 100% for real, deprecating my Twitter account. Do you know how much pleasure I get from this idea? Do you have any idea how much lighter I feel, having decided to get rid of it? Twitter has given me a few dear friends (whom I now talk to via routes other than Twitter anyway), but also nearly ten years of grief, and this platform is not getting better. Oh, the algorithm actively suppresses my posts now? Fine. Let it die. I'm not carrying that burden anymore.

(just constantly bashing my head against social media)

And I don't want a Twitter-like. If that format works for y'all, great, please keep doing what you like to do, but I'm not going to spend my time trying to recreate the evil rituals somewhere else (I've never enjoyed evil rituals). (To be clear, I'm not calling you evil if you engage on social media. I am calling social media algorithms evil.) My time on any remaining microblogging sites, if I even continue those, will now be devoted to simply directing people to the devlog, the thing I actually like and want to do. Does that mean just like a static post on each of them that has a few (shudder) gifs and some links? Maybe! Maybe!!

I'm not going to make any sweeping declarations of The Plan, partly because there isn't a firm one yet, and partly because I've done that before to little success or consistency. However, I know I want to do stuff that makes me want to make stuff, and I'm excited for that. I think it's gonna be fun. I think it may also be sort of a return to form, at least in ways that I can now that I've got my family. So stay tuned…

Oh! Don't forget to wishlist ProtoDungeon: Episode I and ProtoDungeon: Episode III on Steam! (II is in progress!)

[broadsiderenegade]

WIP idk if I’ll finish in time for release as I’m a bit rusty but experimenting with a more hand drawn style for Steam page art (my click through is bad, if this wasn’t my first release I’d have paid for a professional by now haha). I do realize how much I miss regular drawing so I’ll have to get more of that in before I go full speed again on another project.

[comet-cola-lite]

Bring back Club Penguin with a brand new game that's set on the original island and make it a Steam/Console MMO with 2D art, and I think it'll not just survive but thrive!

Also no Disney-brand crossovers.

[fioredeciliego]

Softly, Sweetly - Winter x Fem!Reader

12.5k words

The morning air in the office was crisp with the scent of fresh coffee and lingering hints of printer toner. Minjeong adjusted her blazer, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of desks as she walked through the bustling corporate floor. It was her first week as the new manager—a title she’d worked tirelessly to earn. Being an alpha in a field where appearances were everything, she’d perfected the art of self-control. Her instincts had no place here.

“Good morning, Manager Kim,” a cheerful voice greeted her. Minjeong nodded with a polite smile, not breaking stride. She kept her expression neutral, her shoulders squared. No one needed to know how tightly wound she felt beneath the surface.

The breakroom door was ajar, and as Minjeong pushed it open, something in the air shifted. Her breath hitched. A scent, warm and delicate, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was unmistakable: vanilla, butter, and the faintest hint of lavender. Her instincts stirred before she could stop them, her wolf perking up like it had just found something—someone—important.

Minjeong froze mid-step, her eyes scanning the room. A tray of cookies sat on the counter, golden and fresh, a few crumbs scattered around it. She frowned slightly, glancing at the lone figure sitting at the small table in the corner.

You.

Your head was bent over a book, a steaming cup of tea beside you. You looked so at ease, oblivious to the chaos of the office just outside the door. The moment felt oddly intimate, as though Minjeong had stepped into a scene she wasn’t meant to disturb. Her wolf growled softly in approval, a low hum of recognition.

She shook her head, forcing herself to move. Minjeong was here to grab a coffee, not to—…whatever this was.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice even. You looked up, startled, your eyes meeting hers. For a moment, Minjeong forgot how to breathe.

“Oh, good morning,” you replied, offering a shy smile. “You must be the new manager. Minjeong, right?”

Hearing her name in your voice made something in her chest tighten. She gave a curt nod. “That’s right. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, setting your book down. “I work in marketing. I, um, bake cookies for the team on Fridays. I hope that’s okay?”

Minjeong blinked. You thought she might disapprove? She glanced at the tray again, her fingers twitching with the urge to grab one. “It’s… nice. I’m sure the team appreciates it.”

Your smile widened slightly, and Minjeong felt her heartbeat quicken. She hated how her composure wavered under your gaze, like you could see right through the layers she’d carefully built around herself.

“Would you like one?” you offered, gesturing to the cookies.

Minjeong hesitated. Something about the idea of taking one felt too personal, but the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation made it impossible to refuse.

“Sure,” she said, stepping closer. She picked one up, the warm cookie soft against her fingertips. She bit into it, and the taste was as comforting as the scent that lingered in the room.

“It’s good,” she said after a moment, keeping her tone neutral.

“Thank you,” you said softly. There was a flicker of something in your expression, something almost… hopeful. Minjeong quickly looked away, busying herself with pouring a cup of coffee.

“Do you bake often?” she asked, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

“Pretty often,” you said, shrugging lightly. “It’s kind of my way of relaxing. Helps me feel grounded, you know?”

Minjeong wouldn’t know. Relaxation wasn’t something she indulged in. But she nodded anyway, sipping her coffee. The warmth didn’t quite reach the tightness in her chest.

She lingered longer than she intended, watching as you returned to your book, completely at ease. The contrast between your serenity and her constant self-discipline was almost jarring. But it was the scent that stayed with her long after she left the breakroom, weaving itself into her thoughts and refusing to let go.

--

By the end of the day, Minjeong was mentally exhausted. Meetings, presentations, and the constant effort to keep her instincts in check had drained her more than usual. As she gathered her things, her thoughts drifted back to you. To the way your scent had wrapped around her like a protective cocoon.

It wasn’t just pleasant. It was calming in a way that nothing else had been in years. She hated how much she craved it already, how the memory of it lingered on the edge of her consciousness. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t professional.

“Manager Kim?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see one of her coworkers standing hesitantly by her desk.

“Yes?” she asked, straightening up.

“Just wanted to say thanks for joining us today. I know it’s been a busy week for you,” they said.

Minjeong gave a polite smile. “Thank you. Have a good evening.”

As the office emptied out, she found herself standing alone, staring at the breakroom door. The faintest hint of your scent still lingered, teasing her senses. She shook her head, forcing herself to leave.

--

At home, Minjeong dropped her bag by the door and sank onto the couch. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She’d worked so hard to suppress her instincts, to present herself as an alpha who could be trusted in any situation. But you… you had cracked something open in her with just a smile and a tray of cookies.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from her assistant, reminding her about a team lunch next week.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t the last time you’d be on her mind.

Minjeong prided herself on her ability to remain composed in any situation. Meetings, deadlines, and even high-stakes negotiations barely fazed her. But now, as she sat in a mid-morning conference room, facing a dozen employees, her calm exterior was slipping.

She stole a glance toward you, seated across the table. You were scribbling notes in your planner, a small smile tugging at your lips. That scent—a warm mix of vanilla and sugar—was still faint in the air, and Minjeong was losing her grip on rational thought. It wasn’t overpowering, but it lingered in the corners of her mind, making her restless in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“Minjeong, what do you think?” someone asked, snapping her back to the present.

She blinked, realizing that everyone was staring at her, waiting for a response. “I, uh… Yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. “Could you repeat the question?”

There was a murmur of suppressed laughter around the table. Minjeong’s second-in-command smirked but repeated the inquiry about projected timelines. She nodded briskly, giving an efficient, if generic, response that seemed to satisfy the room. When the meeting resumed, she glanced at you again. You were grinning now, but it was subtle, almost hidden behind the tilt of your notebook. Did you know you were driving her to distraction?

By the time the meeting wrapped up, Minjeong was on edge. Everyone filed out, but she lingered, pretending to tidy her papers. Her heart sank when she realized you were still at the table, reorganizing your planner. Alone with you, she felt the tension in her chest tighten.

She couldn’t just sit in silence. Say something—anything, she told herself.

“The cookies,” she blurted out, louder than intended.

You looked up, startled. “Pardon?”

“Your cookies. I mean, the ones you bring every Friday,” Minjeong stammered, feeling her cheeks heat. “They’re really… nice.”

You blinked, and then—to her simultaneous relief and mortification—you burst into laughter. It wasn’t mocking, though; it was light and genuinely amused. “Nice?”

“What I meant,” Minjeong said, quickly backpedaling, “is that they’re good. Great, actually. Really great. Everyone likes them.”

You tilted your head, your laughter fading into a warm smile. “Thank you, Minjeong. I’m glad you like them.”

“I…” she hesitated, unsure of how to salvage the moment, “I’m not just saying that because of the… cookies.”

Now it was your turn to look confused. “You’re not?”

“I mean, I am saying it because of the cookies, but also because you…” She trailed off, realizing she had no idea where she was going with this. Her internal monologue was screaming for her to stop talking.

“Because I what?” you prompted, resting your chin on your hand, clearly enjoying her awkwardness.

“Because you… seem to put so much care into them,” she finished lamely.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, you closed your planner and stood, your warm scent enveloping her as you passed by. “Thank you, Minjeong. That means a lot.”

She watched you leave, feeling both relieved and utterly defeated. Great job, Minjeong, she thought bitterly. You’ve officially forgotten how to talk like a normal person.

--

The rest of the day didn’t go any better. Minjeong found herself distracted during her afternoon meetings, her mind replaying your smile and the way you’d looked at her in the conference room. By the time her last meeting ended, she was ready to call it a day. She was gathering her things when she heard a soft knock on her office door.

“Come in,” she called, forcing herself to sound professional.

The door creaked open, and there you were again, holding a small container. Her heart rate spiked.

“Hey,” you said, stepping inside. “I had some extra cookies left over. Thought you might want some.”

Minjeong blinked at you, momentarily stunned. “Oh. Uh, thank you.” She stepped forward to take the container from your hands, careful not to let your fingers touch.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not bribing you for a promotion or anything.”

She managed a chuckle, relaxing slightly. “Good to know. I’m not sure my integrity could survive that kind of scandal.”

You grinned and glanced at your watch. “Well, I should get going. Have a good evening, Minjeong.”

“You too,” she replied automatically, watching as you disappeared down the hall.

When she opened the container, the scent hit her like a tidal wave—comforting and intoxicating all at once. The cookies were still warm, their edges golden and crisp. She picked one up, taking a bite. Perfect, of course.

--

Later that night, Minjeong sat in her apartment, the empty container resting on her coffee table. She’d polished off the cookies in record time and now found herself staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment she’d spent with you that day.

“You’re losing it,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples. But despite her frustration, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she’d been awkward today, but it didn’t seem to matter. For the first time in years, she felt something other than restraint.

Minjeong dropped her bag on the floor and shrugged off her blazer, letting out a heavy sigh. The day had been relentless—back-to-back meetings, demanding deadlines, and an inbox that seemed to multiply the moment she glanced away. Her head throbbed, and her shoulders ached from the tension she’d been carrying all day.

She moved toward the couch, loosening her tie and unbuttoning the top of her blouse. As she sat down, something soft and familiar brushed against her fingers. Her scarf. She frowned slightly, picking it up from where it had been draped over her bag. She hadn’t even realized she’d brought it home; she usually left it in her office during warmer months.

Bringing it closer, she froze. That scent. Subtle yet unmistakable—a warm blend of vanilla and sugar. It wasn’t just the fabric softener or any lingering fragrance from her office. No, this was your scent, the one that always lingered faintly when you walked by her or leaned just a little too close while passing her papers in a meeting.

Minjeong’s grip on the scarf tightened as she inhaled again, slower this time. The tension in her body seemed to ease, her mind quieting in a way it hadn’t all day. The calming effect was almost immediate, as if the stress that had piled up over the hours was being gently swept away.

She leaned back against the cushions, holding the scarf against her chest. It wasn’t intentional at first, just a subconscious reaction to the comfort it provided. Her thoughts drifted to you—the way your laughter lit up the office, the delicate smile you gave her whenever she passed by your desk. And, of course, the cookies. Those damn cookies.

The realization hit her like a jolt: she was craving this. Craving you. Not just your scent, but the sense of peace you brought with it. It wasn’t something she’d consciously acknowledged before, but now that she’d felt it, there was no denying it. You had somehow become her haven in the chaos of her daily life.

She closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the quiet moment. Her alpha instincts stirred faintly, a protective warmth blooming in her chest at the thought of you. It wasn’t overwhelming, not the way she’d been taught to fear growing up. Instead, it was grounding, like a steady pulse reminding her of something she hadn’t realized she was missing.

Minutes turned into an hour as she stayed there, holding the scarf. Her apartment, usually too quiet after a long day, felt less lonely now. But with that comfort came another emotion: guilt. She shouldn’t be clinging to this scarf like some lovesick teenager. You deserved better than to be the object of someone’s selfish yearning, especially when she hadn’t even mustered the courage to tell you how she felt.

Minjeong’s eyes fluttered open, and she set the scarf down gently on the couch beside her. She needed to get a grip. This wasn’t fair to you or to herself. Still, as she stood and moved to the kitchen to prepare a late dinner, she couldn’t help but glance back at the scarf.

--

That night, as she lay in bed, the memory of your scent lingered. Minjeong’s mind wandered to what it might be like to have you close, not just in the abstract sense but here, in her space. She imagined you sitting on her couch, sharing a laugh about something trivial. She imagined brushing flour off your cheek after a baking session, your laughter soft and sweet as she teased you for being messy. The thought brought a warmth to her chest that she hadn’t felt in years.

Her hand drifted to her phone on the nightstand. For a brief moment, she considered messaging you. Something casual, something that wouldn’t betray the flurry of emotions she was feeling. But what would she even say? “Hey, your cookies are great, and your scent calms my overworked alpha instincts”? Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening.

Instead, she sighed and placed the phone back down. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow she’d find the courage to say something—anything—to let you know how much you meant to her. For now, she closed her eyes and let the memory of your scent lull her to sleep.

--

The next morning, as Minjeong got ready for work, she hesitated before leaving her apartment. Her eyes fell on the scarf, still draped over the couch where she’d left it. She debated bringing it back with her, but something held her back. It felt too personal now, too intimate to casually return to the office.

With a small sigh, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. The scent might not have been with her anymore, but the sense of calm it had given her lingered, a quiet reminder of the comfort she’d found—and the feelings she couldn’t ignore any longer.

The office was unusually quiet that evening, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound accompanying Minjeong as she reviewed a spreadsheet in her dimly lit office. Most employees had left hours ago, leaving the building in an almost eerie state of calm. She liked it this way—no distractions, no small talk, just the numbers and her thoughts.

But as she stepped out of her office to grab a file from the printer, she caught sight of a light still on in the breakroom. Her brow furrowed. The breakroom was supposed to be locked after hours. Curiosity got the better of her, and she made her way over, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Pushing the door open, Minjeong froze. There you were, sitting cross-legged at one of the round tables with a laptop open in front of you. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, a pen twirling absently between your fingers. Beside you sat a small plate of cookies—of course—and an empty mug with faint coffee stains.

“Y/N?” Minjeong’s voice came out softer than she intended, but it still startled you. You looked up, eyes wide for a moment before a smile spread across your face.

“Oh, hi, Minjeong. Didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

She stepped inside, her curiosity piqued. “I could say the same about you. What are you working on?”

You gestured to your laptop. “The quarterly report for the marketing department. I wanted to get a head start since things are going to get hectic next week.”

Minjeong nodded, impressed but not surprised. You’d always struck her as someone who went the extra mile, though she couldn’t help but notice the faint circles under your eyes. “You could’ve done this tomorrow. Staying late isn’t mandatory, you know.”

You shrugged, your smile turning sheepish. “I know. But I work better when it’s quiet. Plus, it’s… nice to have some time to myself.”

There was a weight to your words that Minjeong couldn’t quite place, but she decided not to push. Instead, she glanced at the plate of cookies. “Did you make those here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I brought them from home. Baking’s kind of my thing. Want one?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

You slid the plate toward her, and she picked up one of the cookies. It was warm and soft, melting on her tongue with a burst of buttery sweetness. She couldn’t suppress the small sound of approval that escaped her.

You grinned. “Good?”

“Better than good,” Minjeong admitted, setting the half-eaten cookie down. “I think these are your best yet.”

“High praise from the boss,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “But yeah, baking helps me unwind. Keeps my hands busy and my mind clear.”

Minjeong leaned against the counter, intrigued. “So it’s more than just a hobby?”

You nodded, your expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah. Living in the city can be overwhelming sometimes, especially for an omega. Baking’s like… my way of staying grounded. The scents, the textures, the routine of it—it’s comforting. Familiar.”

Her heart softened at your candidness. She’d never really thought about how challenging it might be for you, navigating a high-stakes corporate environment while balancing your instincts. “That makes sense. It’s important to have something like that. A safe space.”

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, tilting your head. “What keeps you grounded?”

Minjeong blinked, caught off guard. No one had ever asked her that before. She crossed her arms, considering the question. “Honestly? I… don’t know. I’ve always just focused on work. It’s what I’m good at.”

You frowned slightly. “That sounds… exhausting.”

She shrugged, trying to play it off. “It has its moments. But it’s not so bad. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Your frown deepened, but you didn’t press the issue. Instead, you reached for another cookie, breaking it in half and offering her a piece. “Well, maybe you need to find something that makes you happy outside of work. Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, right?”

Minjeong took the offered cookie, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away. Minjeong found herself relaxing in your presence, the usual weight of her responsibilities feeling just a little lighter. She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you stretched and yawned, glancing at the clock.

“Wow, it’s already past ten,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “I should probably head home.”

Minjeong stood, her protective instincts kicking in. “Let me walk you to your car. It’s late.”

You looked surprised but didn’t argue. “Alright. Thanks, Minjeong.”

As the two of you made your way to the parking lot, the cool night air hit your faces, refreshing after the stuffiness of the office. Minjeong stayed close, her sharp senses on alert for any potential danger. When you reached your car, you turned to her with a grateful smile.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight. It was… nice to talk.”

“It was,” Minjeong agreed, her voice soft. “Drive safe, Y/N.”

You gave her a small wave before getting into your car and driving off, leaving her standing there under the dim glow of the parking lot lights. As she watched your taillights disappear into the distance, she felt a strange warmth in her chest—a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name.

Maybe, she thought as she made her way back inside, it was time she found her own version of sweetness. And maybe, just maybe, it was closer than she’d realized.

The hum of the office carried on as usual, phones ringing intermittently, keyboards clacking away, and the soft murmur of conversations filling the air. Minjeong sat at her desk, head bent over a report she had been reviewing for the past half hour. Her concentration was only half-hearted, though. Every so often, her eyes drifted toward the far side of the room where you sat, completely engrossed in your work.

It wasn’t unusual for Minjeong to find herself distracted by you these days. Your presence had a way of grounding her yet simultaneously throwing her off balance. It wasn’t just your calming scent—though that was a major factor—it was the way you carried yourself, your quiet confidence, and the little smiles you shared with everyone. She knew she needed to get a grip, but you made it incredibly difficult.

“Minjeong…” a voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to find her second-in-command, Jihoon, standing by her desk with a knowing smirk. “Staring at Y/N again?” he teased, just loud enough for a few nearby coworkers to hear.

Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she immediately straightened in her chair. “I was not staring,” she replied defensively, her tone sharp enough to make Jihoon chuckle.

“Sure, boss. Whatever you say.” He leaned on the edge of her desk, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “But you know, if you keep looking at her like that, people are going to start talking.”

“They’re not already?” another coworker, Soojin, piped up from a nearby cubicle. She swiveled her chair to face them, her grin mischievous. “Minjeong practically turns red every time Y/N’s around.”

Minjeong’s ears burned as she glared at Soojin. “I do not. And for the record, can we focus on work instead of pointless gossip?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “It’s not gossip if it’s true.”

Minjeong groaned, running a hand through her hair. “This is completely unprofessional.”

“Oh, come on,” Soojin said, rolling her eyes. “We’re just teasing you, Minjeong. Lighten up. Besides, Y/N’s sweet. If I were you, I wouldn’t deny it so hard.”

“There’s nothing to deny,” Minjeong insisted, but her words lacked conviction. Her traitorous cheeks were already giving her away, flushing a faint pink that made Jihoon and Soojin exchange amused glances.

From across the room, you glanced up, sensing the commotion. Your gaze landed on Minjeong, and for a split second, your eyes met. The moment stretched longer than it should have, and Minjeong felt her pulse quicken. You smiled softly, tilting your head in curiosity at the group gathered near her desk. Then, you went back to your work, leaving Minjeong to deal with the aftermath of her coworkers’ relentless teasing.

“See?” Soojin said triumphantly. “She’s got you flustered already.”

“I’m not flustered,” Minjeong hissed, though the way she avoided their eyes told a different story.

“Alright, alright,” Jihoon said, holding up his hands in surrender. “We’ll drop it… for now.”

Minjeong shot him a glare before turning back to her report, determined to ignore the growing heat in her cheeks. But even as she tried to focus, she couldn’t shake the memory of your smile or the way her heart had stuttered when your eyes met.

--

By lunchtime, the teasing hadn’t entirely subsided. Minjeong was walking to the break room when she overheard a pair of interns whispering near the coffee machine.

“Do you think Minjeong likes Y/N?” one of them asked, not bothering to lower their voice much.

“Oh, definitely,” the other replied. “She’s always looking at her during meetings. It’s so obvious.”

Minjeong cleared her throat loudly, and the interns jumped, spinning around to face her with wide eyes.

“Ladies,” she said coolly, “I suggest you find something productive to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused before scurrying out of the break room.

Minjeong sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand. She grabbed a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, taking a moment to collect herself. The break room door swung open, and she tensed, expecting another nosy coworker. Instead, it was you.

“Hey, Minjeong,” you greeted, your smile as warm as ever. “Taking a breather?”

She nodded stiffly. “Something like that.”

You moved to the coffee machine, humming softly as you prepared your drink. Minjeong watched out of the corner of her eye, silently berating herself for not saying something. Anything.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the silence. “What’s everyone talking about today? I feel like I missed something.”

Minjeong’s heart skipped a beat. “Nothing important,” she said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

You glanced at her, amused. “Are you sure? You’ve been looking a little… distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” she insisted, though the defensive edge in her voice probably undermined her claim.

You chuckled softly, stirring your coffee. “If you say so.”

She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, realizing she’d only dig herself deeper. Instead, she focused on sipping her own coffee, hoping the heat from the drink would explain the flush in her cheeks.

“Well,” you said, turning to leave, “if you ever want to talk about whatever’s distracting you, I’m a pretty good listener.”

Minjeong nodded mutely, watching as you walked away, your scent lingering in the air long after you’d gone. She set her coffee down and leaned against the counter, letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

Maybe… just maybe… her coworkers had a point.

The office buzzed with its usual energy as the day wound down, employees shuffling papers and exchanging pleasantries on their way out. Minjeong leaned against the doorway of her office, watching the scene unfold. Her sharp gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. You were at your desk, head tilted as you listened politely to one of the marketing associates—a man who was leaning in a little too close for comfort.

Minjeong frowned, her instincts prickling at the sight. She told herself to stay calm, that there was no reason to interfere, but the feeling gnawed at her as the moments dragged on.

“You’re always so cheerful,” the man’s voice carried across the open floor. “How do you manage it? Must be all those cookies you bake for us.”

You chuckled politely but shifted back in your chair, creating a subtle distance. “I just enjoy baking. It’s a good way to unwind.”

“Well, maybe you can bake something just for me sometime,” he pressed, his tone too familiar. The insinuation in his voice made Minjeong’s jaw tighten.

She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the simmering protectiveness rising in her chest. It wasn’t her place to intervene. You were capable of handling yourself, and she didn’t want to overstep. But when he moved even closer, leaning over your desk with a hand braced on the edge, her restraint snapped.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

You hesitated, your polite smile faltering. “I… really don’t think—”

“Y/N, can I borrow you for a moment?” Minjeong’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. Her steps were deliberate, her posture calm but radiating authority as she approached.

Your head whipped toward her, relief flashing across your face. “Of course.”

The man straightened, clearly annoyed. “Oh, we were just chatting. No rush.”

“Actually, it’s time-sensitive,” Minjeong said, her tone polite but firm. Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Her presence left no room for argument. The man hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he eventually stepped back. You gathered your things quickly, and Minjeong’s hand lightly brushed your elbow as she guided you toward her office. Once the door clicked shut behind you, you let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to face her. “I… didn’t know how to get out of that conversation.”

Minjeong leaned against her desk, crossing her arms. “He’s always like that?”

“Not always,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “But he can be… persistent. I try to brush it off.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the protective instinct she’d been holding back flared again. “You shouldn’t have to. If he ever makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you… protecting me, Manager Kim?”

Minjeong stiffened, realizing how her words might have sounded. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “I’m just ensuring a safe and professional work environment,” she replied, though the faint pink tinge on her ears betrayed her.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her attempt to maintain professionalism. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Good,” Minjeong said, trying to recover her composure. She glanced at the clock on her desk. “It’s late. You should head home.”

You hesitated. “Are you staying late?”

“Just finishing some reports,” she said, brushing off the question.

You tilted your head, studying her for a moment. “Don’t overwork yourself. Even managers need rest.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Noted.”

Satisfied, you gave her a cheerful wave and headed out, leaving her alone in the quiet office. Minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. The lingering trace of your scent in the room calmed her, even as her thoughts raced.

--

The next day, whispers rippled through the office. Minjeong’s intervention hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it didn’t take long for the gossip to reach your ears.

“Did you see how Manager Kim handled that guy yesterday?” one coworker said, leaning over the partition of a cubicle.

“She’s so cool,” another agreed. “Didn’t even raise her voice, but he backed off so fast.”

You tried to focus on your work, but the murmurs made you smile. Minjeong’s actions had been subtle yet effective—a balance of authority and care that you couldn’t help but admire.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself standing outside her office with a small box of cookies in hand. You knocked lightly on the doorframe, peeking inside. Minjeong looked up from her desk, her expression softening when she saw you.

“Hi,” you said, stepping inside. “I wanted to say thank you again for yesterday.”

“No need to thank me,” she replied, setting down her pen. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would have stepped in so gracefully,” you said, placing the box on her desk. “I made these for you. As a thank you.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she opened the box, the familiar scent of your baking filling the room. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said, though the small smile on her lips betrayed her gratitude.

“Consider it a token of appreciation,” you said, your tone teasing.

Minjeong chuckled, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. As the sweet flavor melted on her tongue, she looked up at you, her gaze warm. “You know, these might be your best batch yet.”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As you turned to leave, she found herself wondering how long she could keep her feelings in check—and if she even wanted to.

When the door closed behind you, she leaned back in her chair, the taste of your cookies and the sound of your laughter staying with her long after you were gone.

The soft hum of music filled your cozy kitchen as the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the countertop. Minjeong stood at the edge of the counter, eyeing the array of baking ingredients with a look that could only be described as apprehensive.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” Minjeong said, her hands resting awkwardly on her hips. Her confidence, so steady in the corporate world, seemed to falter in the face of flour and sugar.

“Magic might be a stretch,” you teased, tying an apron around your waist. “But baking is supposed to be fun. Relaxing, even. So don’t overthink it.”

“Relaxing,” Minjeong repeated, as though testing the word on her tongue. She picked up a measuring cup and examined it like it was a foreign object. “Right. Relaxing.”

--

The idea for the lesson had come up earlier that week. Minjeong had been unusually tense during a meeting, her alpha instincts likely strained by the pressures of the job. Hoping to lighten the mood, you’d casually mentioned your baking hobby.

“If you ever want to relax, you should join me sometime,” you’d said. “Baking cookies works wonders.”

She’d looked at you, her expression skeptical but intrigued. “You think I’d be good at baking?”

“Not at first,” you admitted with a grin, “but it’s about the journey, not perfection. Besides, it’s fun to try something new.”

To your surprise, she’d taken you up on the offer, showing up at your apartment that evening with an apron she’d clearly borrowed from someone else. It was light pink with frilly edges, entirely at odds with her usual serious demeanor.

“You’re really committed to this, huh?” you teased when you saw her at the door.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she’d muttered, her cheeks tinged with color as she stepped inside.

--

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re going to be fine. Just follow my lead.”

Minjeong exhaled, rolling up her sleeves with dramatic determination. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“First step,” you began, pointing to the flour, “measure out two cups of flour and sift it into the bowl.”

She nodded seriously, grabbing the bag of flour. With one strong motion, she tipped it over the measuring cup. A white cloud puffed up instantly, coating her hands and the counter in a fine layer of flour. Minjeong froze, her eyes wide.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” you said, biting back a laugh as you grabbed a dishcloth to clean up the excess.

“Why does it get everywhere?” she muttered, glaring at the flour as though it had personally wronged her.

“It’s part of the process,” you said, smiling. “Baking is messy, but that’s what makes it fun.”

Minjeong didn’t look convinced, but she carefully measured out the flour again, this time with exaggerated precision. You handed her the sifter, and she hesitated before shaking it over the bowl. When a fine, snowy stream of flour fell neatly into place, she brightened visibly.

“See? You’re a natural,” you said encouragingly.

She gave you a skeptical look but allowed a small smile to tug at her lips. “What’s next?”

“Next, we add the baking powder and salt.” You gestured to the small bowls of pre-measured ingredients. “Just toss them in.”

This part went smoothly, and Minjeong seemed to regain a bit of confidence. That is, until you handed her the mixing spoon.

“Okay, now we cream the butter and sugar together,” you instructed. “It’s all about getting the texture just right.”

Minjeong eyed the bowl of softened butter suspiciously. “This doesn’t look right to me already.”

“It’ll look better when you mix it,” you assured her.

She dipped the spoon into the bowl and began stirring with what could only be described as excessive enthusiasm. Butter and sugar flew out of the bowl, splattering onto the counter and her shirt. You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer.

“Minjeong, stop! You’re going to redecorate my kitchen at this rate,” you said, clutching your stomach.

She paused, her face a mixture of embarrassment and determination. “I thought you said baking was relaxing!”

“It is,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “For people who aren’t trying to stir like they’re fighting for their lives.”

Minjeong groaned but started laughing along with you. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

“Not hopeless,” you said, moving closer to take the spoon from her. “Just… enthusiastic. Here, let me show you.”

Your hands brushed against hers as you guided the spoon, and Minjeong’s breath hitched slightly. The moment lingered just a second too long before she cleared her throat and stepped back, letting you take over. Her ears were tinted pink, but she tried to focus on your demonstration.

“See? Gentle but consistent,” you said, glancing at her with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Minjeong watched you work, her gaze softening. There was something about the way you moved—so at ease in this environment—that made her chest tighten. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so freely, or felt this at peace.

“Your turn,” you said, handing the spoon back to her.

This time, Minjeong took her time, carefully folding the ingredients together. The butter and sugar began to blend into a creamy mixture, and she shot you a triumphant look.

“I did it!” she said, grinning.

“See? I told you you’d be fine,” you said, nudging her playfully.

The rest of the process went more smoothly, though there were still a few hiccups—like when Minjeong accidentally cracked an egg too hard and had to fish out the shell, or when she forgot to set the timer for the cookies and nearly burned the first batch. But each mistake was met with laughter, and by the end of the evening, the kitchen smelled like warm vanilla and chocolate.

As the two of you sat at the table, sharing the fruits of your labor, you noticed how Minjeong’s shoulders seemed more relaxed, her usual corporate stiffness replaced by a quiet contentment.

“You know,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in years.”

“That’s the power of baking,” you said with a smile. “And maybe the company helped a little, too.”

Minjeong’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world outside your small kitchen seemed to fade away. She reached for another cookie, but her hand brushed yours instead, making both of you freeze.

“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back quickly.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your cheeks warm. The air between you felt charged, but neither of you dared to break the spell.

Eventually, Minjeong cleared her throat and stood, gathering the plates. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you said, standing as well. “Thanks for… you know, being a good sport about all this.”

She chuckled, brushing flour off her shirt. “Thanks for not giving up on me after the… butter incident.”

As she walked to the door, she hesitated, turning back to look at you. “I… I had a really good time tonight. Thank you.”

“Me too,” you said, your smile genuine. “Maybe next time we’ll try something easier. Like cupcakes.”

Minjeong laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You sighed as you stood at the office entrance, peering out at the relentless downpour. Of course, today of all days, your car was in the shop for maintenance.

“Looks like you’re stuck,” a familiar voice said behind you. Turning, you saw Minjeong, dressed impeccably in her usual business attire, holding a large black umbrella in one hand and her bag in the other. Her sharp eyes softened as they landed on your slightly disheveled figure.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing awkwardly. “Guess I didn’t plan for this.”

Minjeong tilted her head, her lips curving into a small smile. “Your car’s still at the shop, right?”

You nodded, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, it’s been a pain this week.”

“Come on,” she said, already reaching into her bag for her keys. “I’ll drive you home. No sense in getting drenched.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” she interrupted gently. “It’s not out of my way. Besides, you’ll owe me one.”

You hesitated, glancing back out at the rain. It was falling harder now, and you really didn’t want to ruin your clothes—or catch a cold. With a sigh of resignation, you nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Minjeong.”

She smiled, leading you to her sleek black car parked nearby. The rain intensified as you reached it, and she quickly opened the passenger door for you before darting around to the driver’s side. Once inside, the warmth of the car was a welcome contrast to the chilly storm outside.

Minjeong started the engine, the soft purr filling the enclosed space as she adjusted the heater. “Comfortable?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, buckling your seatbelt. “This is really nice of you.”

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Consider it part of my duties as your manager.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I didn’t realize driving employees home was in your job description.”

“Only for special cases,” she teased, pulling out onto the rain-slicked streets.

The streets were quieter than usual, most people having already sought shelter from the rain. The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers and the soft hum of the car’s engine filled the silence between you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though; there was something peaceful about sitting beside Minjeong, the world outside muted by the storm.

“It’s rare to see rain like this in the city,” you commented after a while, your voice breaking the stillness.

Minjeong glanced at you, her eyes warm. “It is. But I don’t mind it. There’s something calming about it, don’t you think?”

You smiled. “I guess so. As long as I’m not caught in it without a ride.”

She chuckled softly, her laughter low and melodic. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence again, the rain forming a soothing backdrop. Then Minjeong’s voice broke through, quieter this time. “You know, it’s… nice. Spending time like this.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. “Yeah, it is,” you agreed softly. “I guess we’ve both been so busy that it’s hard to just… slow down.”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “That’s the city for you. Everyone’s always moving, always rushing to the next thing. Sometimes I feel like I’m running just to keep up.”

Her words struck a chord, and you found yourself nodding. “I know what you mean. It’s easy to get lost in the chaos.”

Minjeong’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, her knuckles paling. “It’s harder when you’re… different.”

You turned to look at her, noticing the tension in her jaw. “Different how?”

She hesitated for a moment before exhaling slowly, her breath visible in the cool air. “Being an alpha in a place like this… it’s not easy. There’s so much expectation, so much pressure to… control everything. To suppress instincts, to fit into this mold of what’s ‘acceptable.��”

Her confession caught you off guard. Minjeong always seemed so composed, so in control. Hearing her admit to struggling with her alpha nature made her feel more… human.

“I’ve always wondered about that,” you admitted. “How you manage to stay so calm and professional all the time.”

Minjeong gave a small, rueful laugh. “It’s a balancing act. Most people don’t realize how much energy it takes. How much I… how much I’ve had to suppress to keep that image.”

Your heart ached at her words. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” she said quietly. “But it’s what’s expected. Alphas are supposed to be strong, reliable, in control. There’s no room for mistakes, no room to… just be.”

The vulnerability in her voice was striking, and you felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. “You know, Minjeong,” you said gently, “you don’t always have to be perfect. It’s okay to let yourself feel things. To let yourself… be human.”

She looked at you then, her eyes searching yours. The rain blurred the edges of the world outside, leaving only the two of you in focus. “It’s hard,” she admitted. “Especially when…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though debating whether to continue.

“When what?” you prompted gently.

Minjeong hesitated before speaking, her voice barely audible over the rain. “Especially when someone’s scent makes it harder to keep everything in check.”

Your breath caught, the meaning behind her words sinking in. “Minjeong…”

She looked away, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Sorry. That was… probably too much.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize…”

“That you affect me?” she finished for you, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yeah.”

Minjeong smiled faintly, her expression softening. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. If anything, it’s… grounding. Comforting, even.”

Her words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the heater. You didn’t know what to say, so you settled for a small smile. “I’m glad.”

The rest of the drive was quieter, but the silence between you felt different now—charged with unspoken emotions. By the time Minjeong pulled up to your apartment building, the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle, the sky still heavy with clouds.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, your voice softer than before.

Minjeong nodded, her gaze lingering on you. "Anytime," she said. "Really."

You hesitated for a moment, the warmth of the conversation still wrapping around you. Finally, you gave her a small smile. "Goodnight, Minjeong."

"Goodnight, Y/N," she replied, her voice carrying an unfamiliar softness.

As you stepped out of the car and into the drizzle, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Minjeong waited until you were safely inside before driving off, her car disappearing into the rain-soaked night. Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, your heart still racing.

The office was bustling as usual, a midweek rush that had everyone scrambling to meet deadlines. You were no exception, rushing from one end of the office to the other, juggling an armful of documents and a coffee mug you had precariously balanced on top of the stack.

“Y/N, do you need a hand with that?” someone called, but you waved them off with a distracted smile.

“No, I’m good!” you replied, already halfway to your desk.

Minjeong, seated at her desk across the room, glanced up from her laptop at the sound of your voice. Her sharp eyes tracked your movements, a hint of amusement on her face as she watched you maneuver through the sea of desks like a busy bee.

She had been keeping an eye on you more often lately, though she wasn’t sure if it was her alpha instincts or something else entirely. Either way, she couldn’t help but smile softly when you finally made it to your desk, setting the pile down with a triumphant huff.

But just as you turned to head toward the breakroom, chaos unfolded in the blink of an eye.

One of the office assistants, rushing by with a loaded cart of supplies, misjudged the narrow space near the staircase. The cart clipped the corner of your desk, sending its contents tumbling. You instinctively stepped back to avoid the spill, but the assistant, flustered and off-balance, accidentally bumped into you.

The world seemed to tilt as you stumbled backward, the edge of the staircase suddenly far too close. Your heart leapt into your throat as your heel missed the step, and you felt yourself start to fall.

“Y/N!”

Before you could process what was happening, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back from the brink. The momentum sent both of you tumbling onto the floor, but Minjeong’s body cushioned your fall.

The office fell into stunned silence. Everyone froze, eyes wide as they processed what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Minjeong’s voice was low and urgent, her breath warm against your ear. Her arms remained firmly around you, as if afraid to let go.

You nodded shakily, your hands clutching at her blazer for support. “Y-Yeah. I think so.”

Her eyes scanned you, sharp and precise, searching for any sign of injury. When she was satisfied that you were unharmed, her gaze shifted, hardening as it landed on the assistant who had caused the commotion.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped, her tone cutting through the room like a blade.

The assistant stammered, their face pale. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

A low growl rumbled in Minjeong’s chest, primal and protective, sending a chill through the room. The sound was quiet but unmistakable, and it made everyone within earshot tense. Even the assistant, who had been scrambling to pick up the spilled supplies, froze in place.

“Minjeong,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m okay. It’s fine.”

Her growl subsided at the sound of your voice, her grip on you loosening slightly. She exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she looked down at you.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening but still tinged with concern.

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “I promise. Thank you for catching me.”

Minjeong blinked, as though coming back to herself. She realized then that she was still holding you, her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly helped you to your feet, clearing her throat.

“I…sorry,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you said, your smile turning playful. “You kind of saved my life, you know.”

Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile forming despite her embarrassment. “Just doing my job.”

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, your coworkers slowly returned to their tasks, though not without casting curious glances in your direction. The assistant apologized profusely before hurriedly cleaning up the mess, clearly eager to avoid Minjeong’s wrath.

You crouched down to help pick up the scattered papers, but Minjeong stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“Let them handle it,” she said firmly. “You should sit down and rest.”

“Minjeong, I’m fine,” you insisted, but the look in her eyes told you there was no arguing with her.

“Please,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

The softness in her tone caught you off guard, and you relented with a small nod. She guided you back to your desk, her hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment before she stepped away to check on the situation.

For the rest of the day, Minjeong stayed close, her presence a constant source of reassurance. Whenever you caught her glancing in your direction, her eyes filled with concern, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, a part of you felt safer knowing she was there.

The days had grown longer and more vibrant since Minjeong and Y/N’s near accident on the stairs. Minjeong had become more protective than ever, though she masked it with her usual calm demeanor. But something had shifted between them. The air felt heavier when they were together, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of them was ready to address fully—until today.

Minjeong stood by her office window, staring out at the city skyline. She had been rehearsing her words all morning, a coffee mug clutched tightly in her hand. Her assistant had noticed the alpha’s uncharacteristic hesitation and wisely decided not to interrupt her.

“You’ve got this,” Minjeong muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, set her mug down, and strode confidently out of her office. But as soon as she approached Y/N’s desk, her composure wavered. The omega was typing away, her brow furrowed in concentration, and Minjeong couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Y/N?” Minjeong’s voice came out softer than she intended. Y/N looked up, her expression brightening immediately.

“Oh, hey, Minjeong. What’s up?”

The alpha shifted on her feet, suddenly hyper-aware of how many people were around. She cleared her throat. “Can we talk? Privately?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Sure. Just let me finish this email.”

A few moments later, they were tucked away in an empty conference room. Minjeong closed the door behind them, her heart pounding.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Minjeong said quickly, then winced at how abrupt she sounded. She took another deep breath, willing herself to calm down. “Actually, I… I wanted to ask you something.”

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity replacing her concern. “Okay?”

“Would you… would you like to go out for coffee with me?” Minjeong’s words came out in a rush, her cheeks tinging pink. “I mean, just the two of us. Not as coworkers. Just as… us.”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting in surprise. For a moment, Minjeong feared she had misread everything. But then, a slow smile spread across Y/N’s face, and she nodded.

“I’d like that,” Y/N said softly.

Relief flooded through Minjeong, and she couldn’t stop the grin that broke across her face. “Great. How about tonight?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Tonight sounds perfect.”

--

The coffee shop Minjeong chose was cozy and tucked away in a quieter part of the city. It was the kind of place where people came to unwind, with warm lighting, soft jazz music playing in the background, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Minjeong had arrived early, her nerves getting the better of her.

She had just finished checking her reflection in her phone screen for the tenth time when Y/N walked in. The sight of her took Minjeong’s breath away. Y/N wasn’t dressed in her usual office attire but in a casual sweater and jeans that somehow made her look even more stunning.

“Hey,” Y/N said, smiling as she approached the table.

“Hey,” Minjeong replied, standing awkwardly before motioning for Y/N to sit. “You look… great.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You do too.”

They ordered their drinks, and for a while, the conversation was light and easy. They talked about work, the rainstorm earlier in the week, and the latest office gossip. But as the evening wore on, the conversation turned more personal.

“I’ve always loved coffee shops like this,” Y/N said, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “They remind me of home.”

“Home?” Minjeong asked, leaning forward.

Y/N nodded. “I grew up in a small town. There was this little café where everyone would gather. It’s where I first started baking, actually. The owner let me use the kitchen after hours to experiment with recipes.”

Minjeong smiled, picturing a younger Y/N covered in flour and determinedly mixing batter. “That sounds… nice. Peaceful.”

“It was,” Y/N said wistfully. “But I wanted more than a small-town life. So, I moved here. It’s been good, but sometimes I miss how simple things were back then.”

Minjeong nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “I get that. The city can be overwhelming, especially when you feel like you have to constantly prove yourself.”

Y/N looked at her, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Is that how you feel?”

Minjeong hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Being an alpha in a corporate world like ours… it’s complicated. People expect you to be strong, assertive, always in control. But sometimes, I just want to… not have to be any of those things.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” Minjeong admitted. “But then there are moments that make it worth it. Moments like this.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Minjeong…”

The alpha shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Sorry, that probably sounded cheesy.”

“No,” Y/N said quickly, her voice earnest. “It didn’t. I… I’m glad you asked me out tonight.”

Minjeong’s smile widened. “Me too.”

They spent the rest of the evening talking, the hours slipping away unnoticed. By the time they left the café, the city was quiet, the streets glistening under the soft glow of streetlights. Minjeong insisted on driving Y/N home again, and this time, the car ride was filled with comfortable silence and shared smiles.

When they reached Y/N’s apartment building, Minjeong walked her to the door.

“Thanks for tonight,” Y/N said, her voice soft.

“Thank you,” Minjeong replied. “I… really enjoyed it.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Me too.”

For a moment, they stood there, the world around them fading away. Then Y/N leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong’s cheek. “Goodnight, Minjeong.”

The alpha’s heart raced as she watched Y/N disappear into the building, her hand unconsciously brushing the spot where Y/N’s lips had touched her skin. She stood there for a moment longer, a smile spreading across her face.

Tonight had been perfect.

The day began like any other—files to review, meetings to attend, and the faint aroma of coffee and paper wafting through the office. Y/N was unusually quiet that morning, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a subtle tenseness that Minjeong couldn’t ignore. Though Y/N smiled politely when spoken to, her eyes seemed distant, her body language subdued.

Minjeong noticed immediately. She always did.

From her office, she watched Y/N shuffle through her tasks with uncharacteristic sluggishness. Something was wrong, and the faint prickling of her alpha instincts told her it was more than just a bad day. She tried to focus on her own work, but her gaze kept drifting to Y/N’s desk. It wasn’t until the omega abruptly stood, gripping the edge of her desk for support, that Minjeong’s concern sharpened into alarm.

Y/N’s scent shifted—a faint, sweet warmth that drifted into the air, growing stronger by the second. Minjeong stiffened, her instincts roaring to attention as she recognized the telltale signs of an omega entering an unexpected heat. Around the office, other alphas subtly straightened, their noses twitching as they picked up on the scent. Minjeong’s jaw clenched.

She was out of her office in seconds, crossing the floor to Y/N’s desk. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but firm enough to cut through Y/N’s haze.

Y/N turned to her, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “I… I think…” Her voice wavered, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

“Come with me,” Minjeong said, stepping closer. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, steadying her. The touch seemed to ground the omega, and she nodded, leaning into Minjeong’s support. Minjeong’s heart twisted at the vulnerability in Y/N’s expression, but she pushed it aside. Right now, Y/N needed her.

The other employees were starting to notice, their whispers and curious glances only heightening Minjeong’s urgency. Without a word, she guided Y/N toward the elevators, shielding her from prying eyes with her own body. When a junior alpha from accounting started to approach, Minjeong shot them a warning glare, a low growl rumbling in her chest. The other alpha froze, then wisely retreated.

Once inside the elevator, Minjeong pressed the button for the top floor. The building had a few unused executive suites that were kept locked and private. It was the safest place she could think of.

Y/N’s breathing was shallow, her face flushed as she leaned heavily against the elevator wall. Minjeong stayed close but kept her hands to herself, knowing how overwhelming physical contact could be during a heat.

“We’re almost there,” she murmured, her voice steady and calming. Y/N’s eyes flickered to hers, and for a moment, Minjeong thought she saw a flicker of gratitude.

The elevator dinged, and Minjeong led Y/N down the empty hallway to one of the locked suites. She used her master keycard to unlock the door, ushering Y/N inside before closing it firmly behind them. The room was quiet and spacious, with a plush couch and large windows overlooking the city.

“Sit,” Minjeong said gently, gesturing to the couch. Y/N obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a soft sigh. Her scent was stronger now, filling the room with a warmth that made Minjeong’s pulse quicken. She forced herself to focus, setting her bag down and taking a step back to give Y/N space.

“Do you need anything?” Minjeong asked, keeping her voice soft. “Water? A blanket?”

Y/N shook her head, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the couch. “I… I didn’t think it would happen here,” she said, her voice thick with embarrassment. “It’s never been so sudden before.”

“It’s okay,” Minjeong said firmly. “You’re safe. Just focus on breathing, alright?”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to steady herself. Minjeong watched her carefully, her own instincts warring within her. The protective urge to stay close was almost overwhelming, but she knew better than to act on it. Y/N needed comfort, not pressure.

After a few moments, Y/N’s breathing evened out slightly, though her flushed cheeks and the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead betrayed the intensity of her heat. “I… I’m sorry for causing a scene,” she said quietly, not meeting Minjeong’s eyes.

“Don’t apologize,” Minjeong said immediately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a weak smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Minjeong’s expression softened. “Not always. But I mean it. You don’t have to feel bad for something you can’t control.”

For a while, the two of them sat in silence, the tension in the room slowly easing. Minjeong stayed by the door, her arms crossed as she kept a careful eye on Y/N. Despite the situation, there was something oddly comforting about being here with her, away from the chaos of the office. It felt… intimate, in a way that Minjeong hadn’t expected.

“Minjeong?” Y/N’s voice broke the quiet.

“Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. “Thank you. For helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if… if you weren’t there.”

Minjeong’s chest tightened, a warm ache spreading through her. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

Y/N looked up at her then, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the air between them charged with something neither of them dared to name. Then Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile, and the tension eased, replaced by a quiet understanding.

“You should get some rest,” Minjeong said, clearing her throat. “I’ll stay out here and keep an eye on things.”

Y/N nodded, leaning back against the couch with a tired sigh. As her eyes fluttered shut, Minjeong settled into a chair by the door, her posture relaxed but alert. She knew the next few hours would be long, but she didn’t mind. Protecting Y/N, keeping her safe—it felt right. Natural.

Minjeong found herself anxiously smoothing down her blazer for what felt like the hundredth time. She stood outside a cozy café nestled in the quieter part of the city, a place Y/N had chosen for their second date. Their first official outing had gone better than Minjeong could have hoped. But today felt different. She could feel the weight of words she’d been holding back pressing heavily on her chest.

“Minjeong!” Y/N’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Turning, Minjeong saw her walking up the cobblestone path, a soft smile playing on her lips. She wore a light sweater that made her look impossibly warm and approachable. Minjeong’s heart did a somersault, the kind that left her both exhilarated and terrified.

“Y/N,” Minjeong greeted, her voice softer than she intended. She held the door open, and they stepped inside together.

The café was a charming little nook, its walls lined with bookshelves and fairy lights. The gentle hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the rich scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries. They found a quiet corner, and as they settled into their seats, Minjeong couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes sparkled when she looked around.

“This place is lovely,” Y/N said, her hands wrapping around the warm cup of tea the barista had just placed in front of her. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”

Minjeong nodded, watching her as she spoke. She loved how Y/N’s voice carried a gentle lilt, how her presence seemed to soften even the sharpest edges of Minjeong’s restless mind.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Minjeong said, a teasing glint in her eyes. “But I agree. It’s... cozy.”

Y/N chuckled softly, and for a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks. Minjeong felt the tension in her shoulders ease, but the words she needed to say lingered at the back of her throat, refusing to come out. It wasn’t until Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand and looking at her with those impossibly kind eyes, that Minjeong realized she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice hesitant. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Oh? What is it?”

Minjeong hesitated, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I... I like you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “A lot. More than I think I even realized at first.”

Y/N’s smile grew, and she leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable for a moment. Minjeong’s heart pounded in the silence that followed, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario.

“You’re really bad at hiding it, you know,” Y/N finally said, her tone playful. “I’ve known for a while.”

Minjeong blinked, stunned. “You... knew?”

“Of course I did.” Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re not exactly subtle, Minjeong. The lingering stares, the way you always find excuses to be near me... It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

Minjeong felt her face heat up, and she ducked her head slightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was waiting for you to,” Y/N admitted, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to rush you. Besides, I liked seeing you figure it out on your own. It made it feel... genuine.”

Minjeong looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. There was no teasing in her gaze now, only warmth and sincerity. Something inside Minjeong eased, and for the first time, she allowed herself to smile fully.

“I don’t know why I was so scared,” Minjeong said, her voice barely audible. “I just... didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re important to me.”

Y/N reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on Minjeong’s. “And you’re important to me, too. More than you probably realize.”

The gentle weight of Y/N’s hand against hers sent a wave of warmth through Minjeong, and she squeezed it lightly. For a moment, the world outside the café faded away, leaving only the two of them in their little corner of peace.

As they left the café, the cool evening air greeted them. They walked side by side, the city’s lights casting a soft glow around them. When they reached Y/N’s building, she turned to Minjeong, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“Thank you for tonight,” Y/N said. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” Minjeong replied, her voice gentle. She hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Y/N... can I—?”

Y/N didn’t let her finish. Smiling, she closed the small distance between them, standing on her toes to press a soft, lingering kiss to Minjeong’s lips. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when Minjeong responded, cupping Y/N’s face with trembling hands, it deepened into something that felt like a promise.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N’s eyes were bright, and Minjeong felt like she could conquer the world. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N said softly, her voice laced with something Minjeong couldn’t quite place but knew she never wanted to lose.

Minjeong nodded, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Tomorrow.”

As she walked away, Minjeong felt lighter than she had in years. She didn’t just feel like an alpha or a manager or a woman trying to navigate the complexities of life in the city. She felt like someone who had finally found home.

The soft hum of the oven filled Minjeong’s cozy apartment, mingling with the warm aroma of freshly baked cookies. It was a stark contrast to the quiet professionalism that usually defined their weekdays at the office. Here, away from deadlines and meetings, the world felt smaller, simpler—just the two of them, and a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

Y/N stood at the counter, hands dusted with flour as she worked dough into perfectly round shapes. Her laugh was light as she glanced over at Minjeong, who was struggling with her own misshapen attempts.

“How do you make it look so easy?” Minjeong grumbled, holding up a lumpy ball of dough that barely resembled a circle. Her lips were slightly pursed in concentration, but her cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“Years of practice,” Y/N teased, leaning closer to inspect Minjeong’s work. “But hey, this one’s not bad.” She picked up the lopsided creation and held it between her fingers. “See? Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Minjeong raised a playful eyebrow. “Harsh.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling as she turned back to her tray. “You’ll get there. Eventually.”

Minjeong rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. She set down her latest attempt and stepped closer to Y/N, brushing her hands on her apron. “You’re just showing off now.”

“And?” Y/N smirked, her tone light and teasing.

The playful banter filled the room, a rhythm they had fallen into so naturally that it felt like second nature. It was hard to believe that just months ago, Minjeong had been too nervous to even compliment Y/N’s cookies at work. Now, she was elbow-deep in cookie dough, laughing at her own failures with someone who had become the most important part of her life.

Minjeong reached over and stole a small pinch of dough from Y/N’s tray. Before Y/N could protest, Minjeong popped it into her mouth with a smug look.

“Minjeong!” Y/N gasped, her hands on her hips. “You’re going to throw off the balance!”

“I’ll risk it,” Minjeong said, her voice muffled by the dough. She grinned and leaned on the counter, watching as Y/N shook her head, half-exasperated and half-amused.

“You’re impossible,” Y/N said, but her tone lacked any real heat.

Minjeong’s gaze softened as she watched Y/N’s smile linger, even as she pretended to scold. This was the kind of happiness Minjeong had never thought she’d find—effortless, genuine, and entirely tied to the person standing in front of her.

The oven timer beeped, pulling Minjeong from her thoughts. Y/N moved to grab a mitt and carefully pulled out the tray, setting it on the counter. The cookies were golden brown, their edges crisp and centers soft. Minjeong leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

“Smells amazing,” she murmured.

“Of course it does,” Y/N replied, feigning pride. “It’s my recipe, after all.”

Minjeong chuckled and grabbed two mugs from a cabinet. “Milk or tea?” she asked, holding them up.

“Milk,” Y/N said, her tone definitive. “Cookies without milk are just sad.”

Minjeong nodded in agreement and poured two glasses of milk, setting them down on the small table in the living room. She returned to the kitchen and began transferring cookies onto a plate, doing her best to avoid the ones she’d shaped—those would stay hidden for now.

Y/N noticed and nudged her. “They all go on the plate, Minjeong. Even the… unique ones.”

“Fine,” Minjeong sighed, but she couldn’t stop smiling as she added the misshapen cookies to the plate.

Once the cookies were ready, they settled on the couch together, the plate balanced between them. Rain pattered softly against the windows, and the warm glow of a single lamp bathed the room in a cozy light. It felt like a scene out of a movie—a peaceful, domestic moment that neither of them wanted to end.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Minjeong admitted after a long stretch of comfortable silence. She glanced at Y/N, her expression thoughtful. “With someone who makes me feel so… grounded.”

Y/N looked at her, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in Minjeong’s voice. She set down her cookie and turned to face her fully. “You mean that?”

Minjeong nodded, her gaze steady. “I’ve spent so much time trying to keep my instincts in check, trying to be the kind of alpha who doesn’t make people uncomfortable. But with you…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “I don’t feel like I have to hide anything.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she smiled softly. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, Minjeong. I like you just the way you are.”

The sincerity in her voice made Minjeong’s heart ache in the best way. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before taking Y/N’s hand in hers. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Y/N squeezed her hand gently, her eyes shining with warmth. “For what?”

“For being you,” Minjeong replied. “For making me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong.”

The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken emotions that didn’t need words. Minjeong leaned closer, her eyes flicking to Y/N’s lips for just a second before she pulled back, her cheeks pink.

Y/N chuckled, reaching for another cookie. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Minjeong groaned, covering her face with her free hand. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Y/N teased, biting into her cookie.

Despite her embarrassment, Minjeong couldn’t help but smile. She leaned back against the couch, her hand still intertwined with Y/N’s. The scent of cookies lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of Y/N’s calming scent. a/n: sigh, i kinda gave up on this one halfway through😭😭 the burnout is real you guys.

[aru-art]

socks and the hopeye just went up for pre-orders!! i had a few people ask me where we got the vriki plushes from last time, so grab these 2 while you can if you're interested!!

good morning exocolonist nation

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi there! I'm writing a barista character and got a bit stuck. Do you have any notes on how to write baristas (e.g. what shifts are like; what you have to learn to be one, etc)? Thank you so much!

(Your posts here are invaluable, by the way, and super helpful. 😄)

Writing Notes: Barista

Barista - specializes in making a variety of coffee and espresso beverages.

Usually works in a cafe, coffee shop or bookstore where they take customer orders, complete transactions and serve drinks.

May also prepare and serve a few small meals and pastry options.

Day-to-Day Tasks

As a barista, you would:

prepare the premises or outlet ready for opening

welcome customers, take orders and process payments

prepare and serve coffees, hot snacks, sandwiches and cakes

clean and tidy work areas, equipment and coffee machines

check and order new stock

Preparing Beverages. One of the barista’s primary duties is preparing various drinks to meet customer preferences. This involves:

Crafting Espresso-Based Drinks: Baristas skillfully pull espresso shots, steam milk, and create drinks like cappuccinos, lattes, and macchiatos. They ensure each beverage has the perfect balance of flavor and texture.

Brewing Specialty Coffees: Many coffee shops offer pour-over coffees, cold brews, or French press options. Baristas must understand brewing methods, grind size, and extraction techniques to achieve the desired flavor profile.

Creating Latte Art: For many customers, presentation matters as much as taste. Baristas often add intricate designs, such as hearts or rosettas, to elevate the visual appeal of lattes and cappuccinos.

Customizing Orders: Customize drinks to customer preferences by adjusting sweetness levels, switching to non-dairy milk, or adding extra espresso shots.

Other barista duties may include: 

Welcoming patrons to the shop

Building a relationship with regular customers and remembering their orders

Explaining the cafe’s special menu items as necessary

Recommending beverage options if requested

Following recipes and presentation guides to make beverages

Preparing plates or takeaway containers of pastry and food items

Cleaning and maintaining the commercial coffee machine, steamer and blender

Following health and safety policies

Removing dishes from the table as patrons finish their drinks

Preparing checks and taking payment from patrons

Work Environment 

Baristas work in a variety of coffee shops with the following characteristics:

Standing and walking around for extended periods of time

Lifting and carrying food and drink trays to tables

Working near many other customers, servers and kitchen staff

Wearing a uniform if required by the restaurant

Working environment may be noisy

Typical Hours

40 to 42 hours (variable) per week

Evenings / Weekends / Holidays (on shifts)

Cafes and coffee shops typically open early in the mornings

May require baristas to be flexible with scheduling to meet customer demand

The work can be fast-paced during busy periods

Suitable job for students and part-time workers

Career Path & Progression

There may also be opportunities to move into:

barista staff training

equipment maintenance

coffee tasting and buying

product development and marketing

You could become self-employed and open your own coffee shop.

With experience, you could become a:

store manager, then

regional manager, with a coffee retail chain or franchise.

Pros & Cons

Pros

Flexible Hours: Perfect for students or part-time workers.

Skill Development: Learn customer service, multitasking, and coffee expertise.

Social Interaction: Build relationships with customers and colleagues.

Career Growth: Opportunities to advance into management or specialty coffee roles.

Cons

Physical Demands: Standing for long periods and repetitive motions.

Irregular Hours: Early mornings, weekends, and holidays are typical.

Modest Pay: Entry-level wages can be low, though tips often help.

How to Become a Barista

You can get into this job through: a college course; an apprenticeship; applying directly; training with a professional body.

College. Although not essential, you could do a college course that would give you some of the skills needed for this role. Courses include:

barista skills

food and beverage service

retail skills

Apprenticeship. You can apply to do a Hospitality Team Member Level 2 Intermediate Apprenticeship.

This will usually take 12 months to complete

A mix of on-the-job training and time spent with a college or training provider

Direct Application. When you start, your employer will put you through training in barista skills and product knowledge. Some employers may prefer you to have experience in customer service, retail sales or catering.

Common Personality Traits

22,778 baristas were surveyed to learn what personality traits and interests make them unique. Based on the Holland Codes:

Baristas tend to be predominantly conventional individuals, meaning that they are usually detail-oriented and organized, and like working in a structured environment.

They also tend to be realistic, which means that they often enjoy working outdoors or applying themselves to a hands-on project.

Based on The Big Five:

Baristas score highly on openness, which means they are usually curious, imaginative, and value variety.

They also tend to be high on the measure of extraversion, meaning that they rely on external stimuli to be happy, such as people or exciting surroundings.

Barista Tools

Baristas use a wide variety of tools to complete their duties. Some common tools:

Espresso Machine. Allows you to brew highly concentrated black coffee. During this process, the machine forces pressurized hot water through finely grounded coffee. Some types of drinks you can make using an espresso machine include: Macchiato; Cafe latte; Cappuccino; Mocha; Affogato; and Americano

Frothing Steam Pitcher. Used to create any drink that requires milk. A frothing stream pitcher helps you create a milk foam to top off a cup of coffee. You can also use this type of pitcher to create an assortment of latte art. Frothing pitchers are stainless steel and feature a handle and pouring spout. A narrow spout can offer control when pouring latte art, such as a heart or rose. You can also find frothing pitchers in different sizes, depending on the amount of milk you want to froth.

Foam Frothing Spoon. After creating foam from a steam pitcher, you can use a foam frothing spoon to control how much foam you pour over a cup of coffee. Using a frothing spoon can prevent spilling that may occur when pouring the foam into a cup of coffee. This type of spoon features a flat tip that makes it easier to scoop only foam from a steaming pitcher.

Thermometer. When making espresso, it's important to consider the brewing temperature, along with that of the milk froth. If your espresso machine doesn't come with a proportional-integral-derivative, use a thermometer to measure espresso as it leaves the brew head.When making a drink that requires steamed milk, it's important for the milk to reach the ideal temperature of about 149 degrees Fahrenheit. To reach this temperature, consider using a frothing thermometer for complete accuracy. A frothing thermometer can also help you avoid burning the milk while ensuring a caramelized milk finish that can elevate the flavor of any coffee.

Commercial Coffee Maker. This type of coffee maker lets you brew a standard cup of coffee. After filling it with water and coffee grounds, a coffee maker filters hot water through a basket holding coffee grounds. After filtering, black coffee enters the coffee pot. You can use this black coffee for a standard cup of coffee or for other drinks such as an iced coffee or latte.

Tamper. Baristas use tampers to brew espresso, whether in a machine or through a stovetop espresso maker. A tamper lets you pack loosely dosed coffee grounds so they're tightly pressed, ensuring a quality espresso shot. You can also adjust the length of a tamper depending on the espresso dosage.

Scale. Helps you achieve a consistent and accurately measured espresso shot. In terms of measurement, a scale helps you determine the amount of beans you use for one shot. If you use a quality grinder with a doser, you may not need a scale.

Coffee Grinder. Grinds fresh coffee beans before the brewing process. A coffee grinder lets you grind as much coffee as needed, whether for an espresso shot or a large batch of coffee. Many coffee grinders have conical burrs that let you select the size of your coffee grounds.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, thanks so much for your lovely words, you're too kind! Hope this helps with your writing 💕

[fireandiceland]

Hetalia characters with dishes typical for their country - part 1 (part 2 here)

Italy: Maritozzo (cream bread) -> This Roman milk bread is said to be dated back to times of Ancient Rome. The baked good is filled with generous amounts of whipped cream and somtimes decorated with fruit or pistachio. Young man also used it in courtship by hiding jewellery or a ring in the filling.

Germany: Breze(l) mit Schokolade (chocolate dipped pretzel) -> A baked pastry with sweet or salty toppings, best known for its distinctive symetrical, knotted shape. Dipped in chocolate the soft pretzel is a popular snack at funfairs and markets, but there are also small, crispy pretzels that are to be eaten like crisps/chips.

Japan: 和菓子 (wagashi; plant based sweet) -> Originally meaning "Japanese confectionery" the term now refers to a traditional dessert made from plant based ingredients. It's artful shapes are influenced by season, nature, or even poetry.

France: Quiche Lorraine -> A savoury tarte traditionally made with a filling of eggs, heavy cream, ham, and bacon. Today cheese is often added, though it is controversial among professionals. (In the drawing there seems to be leek added too which is not mentioned in the original recipe either.)

England: Scotch Egg -> Supposedly inspired by the Indian nargisi koftas, this dish consists of a hard-boiled or soft-boiled egg wrapped in pork (sausage meat) which is coated in breadcrumbs and then baked or deep-fried. Often served in pubs and a popular cold snack as well.

America: Hamburger -> A popular fastfood consisting of a patty (traditionally made from ground beef) between two halfs of a sliced bun. There are countless variations made with all kinds of additional ingredients and condiments, including expensive high-end versions with edible goldflakes.

Russia: пирожки́ (Pirozhki; stuffed bread) -> This popular street food is a baked good made from yeast-dough is typically boat-shaped and filled sweet or savory with meat, vegetables, fruit, jam or tvorog (an Eastern European fermented milk product with a consistency similar to curd cheese)

China: 小籠包 / 小笼包 (Xiaolongbao; steamed bun) -> Steamed dumplings made from leavened or unleavened dough traditionally filled with minced pork, traditionally eaten for breakfast. The top of the dumpling is closed by folding and pinching it. Authentical dumplings have at least 14 folds, preferably 18.

[lunachy]

New Limited 6★ Defender: Yu

Primal Protector Defender

Illustrator: 1000_Kangk

Trait: Blocks 3 enemies, and can inflict Elemental Damage

Talent 1: The Golden Rule

Whenever Yu blocks an enemy, he gains Shelter. Enemies blocked by Yu take Arts Damage/second and ATK% Burn Impairment/Second.

Talent 2: Hidden Clouds

If there are a certain amount of deployed Operators or more, heal health and Elemental Impairment every second.

Skill 1: Today's Host

Passive: +1 Taunt.

Active: +DEF, +HP. Whenever Yu is attacked, deal Burn Damage to that enemy.

Skill 2: Generous Gifts, Distinguished Guests

+2 Block, +Max HP, +ATK. Yu's attacks deal Arts Damage. When You activate this skill, deal Arts Damage to all ground enemies in range, then teleport them into Yu's tile.

(Note: Yu only teleports enemies whose pathing would be lined up with where Yu is. So you can not yoink enemies from entirely seperate paths, like say in 1-7.)

Skill 3: All The World's a Stove

+ATK, +DEF, +Max HP. Yu gives Talent 2 to all deployed Operators. When You activate this skill, create a firewall in front of Yu, that spans across the entire width or length of the battlefield. Whenever an ally attacks an enemy across the firewall, they also deal Burn Damage. Whenever an enemy projectile would cross the firewall, it has a chance to be deleted.

Translated Weibo Introduction:

"Hello, you must be the doctor. I'm here to visit my brothers and sisters. Is this where visitors register? Okay - Logistics Officer Entry Contract? Sister Nian! You lied to me again!"

__________________

At dawn, Yu set up a breakfast stall in front of his store.

The first batch of customers had already been waiting on the street. As usual, they asked for a few steamed buns, left coins, and hurried to work. Some of them left their things in a hurry, and Yu had to run a few steps to stuff them into the hands of the customers.

As the sun gradually rose, the elderly who were exercising in the early morning and the residents who went out to buy vegetables came to the stall in groups to buy breakfast for their families. Some wanted the fried dough sticks to be older, some wanted salty paste with spicy sweet paste and less sugar, five or ten portions were all different requirements, but this did not prevent Yu from chatting with the neighbors while turning the fried dough sticks over and putting them into the oil pan. Soon, they carried large and small bags to their homes.

The hawkers were calling out from all around, and the bells and horns were ringing on the street. Students were rushing to class, but they didn't mind spending a few minutes watching the chef, who was about the same height as them, making pancakes or rice balls. Those accompanied by their parents would occasionally be nagged by gossips like, "Look at the young chef", so Yu had to quickly smooth things over and hand the breakfast he had just made to the customers. After they opened their mouths and took a bite of the food, they had no time to criticize or refute.

Stop the chattering mouths and feed the hungry stomachs, whether it is the morning market, afternoon tea or dinner, this is what cooking is all about.

The food delivery cart stopped in front of the store, announcing the official end of breakfast time. After Yu sold and gave away the remaining meals to several latecomers, he took the stall back to the store. The waiter Lao Jiang got off the car and helped his small shopkeeper chef to move the dishes into the back kitchen, cleaned the shop, set up the benches, and lit the stove.

Thus Yuweiju was officially opened.

[da-shrimping-station]

Here is a shrimpy rambling about the Butler sprites for the April Fool's event 🦐

GAWD DAMN THEY BROUGHT OUT THE ENTIRE BAKERY WITH THOSE SPRITES

On a more serious(?) note, the sprites remind me of the Summer Raphael card. They're not L grade levels of rendering but they don't match the S grade card art style either. Naturally, I would assume they are S+ cards.

They will probably be acquired the same way as Summer Rara too: by purchasing a ticket with the code at the pop up venue. While I do get the marketing strat of lowkey forcing people to actually go to the venue to not only buy the code but also the physical merch, I hope PB wouldn't make much of a fuss about people reselling codes to people who really want the cards but aren't able to go to the pop up event.

So about the sprites! I don't think they are AI. That's just my opinion. Seeing the full body ones and looking through all of it from top to bottom (as respectfully as I could lol) they just suffer a bit of wonky-ness that all WHB sprites suffer. I don't wanna fault the artists since they've probably done the best they could. They gave us really good cakes after all. It could be from management's side of things or whoever is in charge of the art department.

Remember: the artists can give it their all but at the end of the day, management has the final say in things. Which sucks ass but that's the reality of things.

Besides, I think PB is smart enough to realise that using AI for their sprites would be like taking a shotgun to their own foot and ruin whatever's left of the players' goodwill. I hope.

MY BEEF!

The sprites are good but not perfect. There are glaring issues that we've seen and pointed out. Most of these are just stuff I personally have beef with.

1. Beel's skin tone.

Good god they massacred him. That is not Beel. Who the fuck is that man. I'm so happy the fandom agrees they fumbled this so bad. Putting up my edit beside it to preserve my sanity /hj

2. The poses and the proportions.

They're a hit or miss. Satan and Beel have the best poses imo. Mammon's is a bit fruity. Levi's and Belphie's is fine enough. Asmo's being a tease with the little butt grab. But Lucifer? Bro is your back alright???

And the butts...yeah idk how Beel's got the biggest and roundest. Oddly enough I think Belphie's got the most proportionate butt.

3. The difference in the rendering of their faces

Lookie at this:

Look how the rendering becomes more and more....simplified? as we go through the Kings in order of release. The main 4 is fine. Beel and Satan arguably have the better rendering with the lighting in their faces and hair. (i fucking hate using the unedited Beel sprite cuz of the skintone but im trying to make a point here)

Lucifer's is so-so but then we get to Belphie and Asmo....they got done dirty 💀 it's like the artist ran out of steam or smth.

I feel disappointed but not surprised kinda.

5. Asmo's hair

Just like Beel's skin tone, WHERE TF DID IT GO???? WDYM WE GET A LIMP ASS PONYTAIL FOR HIM???

Man where did all that hair go 💀 also did they make him paler??? like,,,how is that even possible

What in "Hell" is Bad's main selling point are the characters we simp and thirst over. PB should give great care when it comes to their art for them. I'm fine with average quality for the art but what I'm looking for is consistency. And for them to forget such a crucial feature like skintone, it really tilts me so bad. I can excuse the hair. You can argue that it's a different hairstyle but skintone??? I'm sure as fuck the artists have and can use a crap ton of references when they draw the character. So why the fuck did Beel's sprite turn out like that.

And then there's the inconsistency with the rendering. Idk what's going on during the art process but srsly....the difference is off putting, to me at least. Belphie's and Asmo's ass and clothes are more rendered than their faces.

At this point it's more of a Quality Assurance thing. Can PB get someone to review the art before it gets released or smth 💀 gotta make sure it's all yk, fucking consistent to all the art released so far

If you've made it this far, thank you for taking your time to listen/read to this shrimp's rambling about the demon porn game🙏

[night-market-if]

The Night Market

Can we give a shoutout to @mooreaux for making me such AMAZING art for this game? Seriously, the talent of my bestie is through the roof. Go look at their work. Also, if you want to play the Night Market, it is available here on Steam or here on itch.io!

Book Two tba

[leog4u]

Adult Gaming Survey Results!

Hey, hey! Here's the results of that survey on adult games I set up a while back. I was blown away by the amount of responses, totaling at 1,159! After reading every write-in, I've made a little write up with some analyses that adult game devs could chew on. I think it's also interesting from an audience stand point, so give it a read! The link above goes to the survey results, so you can see the percentages and write-ins for yourself. Oh also here's a link to the top 12 favorite adult games of the responses, so you don't have to count the 591 answers yourself.

As a reminder, this is a survey for adult games. Search any game in the response list at your own risk. Minors go do something else.

And with that out of the way...!

How often do you play adult games?

Something I noticed was quite a few replies mention very large gaps between adult game sessions. I'd like to drill down on this, because paired with respondents mentioning not know how to acquire adult games, this lack of awareness might lead to less opportunities for playing adult games.

The flip side to many responses in “Other” mention binge bursts, followed by long periods of no adult game activity, it might just be a case of adult life lacking free time. 

How long do you expect an adult game to be?

A relief to game devs, there’s no major expectation for an adult game to be pulling JRPG playtime numbers. A majority would rather play a game that does what it sets out to do at its own pace, rather than hitting a target goal of X hours and be subject to poor flow and padding. 

How long is an adult gaming session?

A majority spend over an hour, with time set aside to do said adult gaming. While “till i finish” could be less than an hour, it’s still a designated time set aside to play an adult game.

What’s interesting is the responses in the “Other” category that go into detail, if the goal is to just get off, it’ll be quick. But if a game has plot and gameplay, like some kind of video game, then it’s likely they’ll take more time as they’re now being entertained in the way a video game does.

When it comes to art, what level of quality do you expect?

Again, something that should come as a relief to adult game devs. There’s not a big expectation of painted, master quality art that would be hung in a museum. People want something that gets the idea across and something fresh. 

The style should match the actual content of the game. Too many times I've played a game with the most facebook friendly mobile game style, and it just feels like it's distracting from what the game is trying to actually do.

It also would help if when a potential customer scrolls down the itch.io adult game page, their eyes don't glaze over at art that looks like every other game on the market.

Do you buy your adult games?

A problem that is highlighted here is the lack of ability or knowledge on how to buy adult games. Storefronts hide the settings needed to see adult game options, which actively lead to a lack of knowledge on how to purchase. 

A majority of the “Other” category mentions it being a combination of spending money and playing free games.

Another point to note is that some mentioned that they will pirate with the intention of spending money later. A free demo, like some mention seeking out first, can help devs avoid piracy, since some people use pirated games as a demo when none is available to see if the game’s worth it.

Another note, which unfortunately won’t help the devs affected, but when non-english games aren’t available in english or on english storefronts, some respondents feel that the only way to play is by pirating. It’s difficult to get the numbers, but I’d be interested in seeing how well japanese adult games on steam that have been localized for english speaking audiences are doing, since that previously wasn’t an option for japanese adult devs until very recently.

How important is writing in adult games for you?

This was actually a surprising result to me. Adult games primarily advertise their art. How much of it there is, how well drawn it is, if it’s animated or not. So seeing 77% of respondents cite good writing as one of the most important parts to an adult gaming experience really changes what the priorities should be for an adult game dev. 

While some would skip writing, either to get to “the good stuff” or just to skip over bad prose, some have an actively worse experience with being shown bad writing.

How important is animation in the porn scenes?

A recurring sentiment in the “Other” category is that if the animation is bad, don’t bother. 

Combined with the majority of 67.1% saying that animation is optional, I think adult game devs are safe to not prioritize it unless their game is the kind that needs it to function, like a side-scroller. It drains a lot of money and resources, especially for a first time project.

Even the live2D tweening has little payoff with these numbers considered.

How important is voice acting in the porn scenes?

Similar to animation, voice acting is a nice feature to have, if it’s done well. Otherwise it can feel tacked on, or worse, detrimental to enjoying the game.

With 50% not caring or actively muting, I think it’s safe to say that it’s a “nice to have” and resources should be focused on other things like writing and gameplay.

How important is sex sound effects in the porn scenes? (moaning, wet slapping, squelching, etc)

What’s really fascinating is that the sound effects and audio design are more appreciated than the voice acting. If I had to pinpoint a difference, it’s that bad delivery can ruin a scene, but a sound effect is far less intrusive.

What genres of porn games do you like the most?

The genres chosen were a combination of which were the most populated as well as recent trends. A large amount of write-ins were expressing that simulation games were a favorite. 

Now comes the question, is the number one favorite genre RPGs because that’s the best genre for an adult game, because it’s a genre people enjoy playing for gaming’s sake, or because a massive amount of adult games are made in RPG Maker? I think it’s a little bit of columns A, B, and C.

When it comes to adult games, what matters more?

People are here for porn, but that doesn't mean they're here for just porn. They want a good delivery vehicle for the porn. Both parts of this sentiment mean that there's one thing you should avoid more than anything and it's annoying padding and grinds. They bought your game, there's no need hide a nipple behind five hours of gameplay. Likewise, it's not very good game design to give the player everything at once, as I've mentioned before.

There are several draws to adult games. It's intimacy in a safe, virtual environment. It's making bonds with characters the player falls in love with that end with a climax, or two. It's exploring kinks. And it's blowing off some steam by getting your rocks off. These should be considered when designing a porn game.

Does a kink you enjoy influence if you buy an adult game?

In the future, I would rephrase this question as asking how much your kink factors into buying a game, rather than what was presented. As it stands, “I buy things if they’re good” isn’t that interesting or valuable of an insight.

Respect to the small slice that don't buy shit unless it has their kink in it.

Does a kink you dislike influence if you buy an adult game?

Making more extreme or polarizing kinks optional enables the developer to explore said kinks while allowing the player to avoid uncomfortable situations. As long as it’s clear what’s optional and what isn’t on the product description, this seems to be the preferred method. 

What’s your stance on AI art?

A landslide stance. This can be attributed to politics: there is a hardcore stance against any and all AI. That aside however, when it comes to selling a product to a consumer, why would they want a product they know was made with no care or effort? Where else were corners cut? AI in porn games are usually used to generate the art and writing, the most important parts (according to the survey) to the porn game. It's where you want the most care and attention, not the opposite.

What aspect of an adult game do you care about the most?

Players care about the porn in their porn games. This isn’t a surprise. Audio being ranked so low also isn’t a surprise considering the previous results. But, what is interesting is how gameplay is ranked highest in the “important” category, past art and writing. I interpret it as “come for the art and writing, stay for the gameplay.” 

Talking Points From the Free Form Responses

Replayability and customization are gameplay features people value, which can be reflected in the amount of responses citing games such as Corruption of Champions and Degrees of Lewdity as their favorites.

Porn games are really unique because you need to list out its content. We're used to spoilers being a bad thing in marketing materials, but for porn its mandatory. A customer needs to know: what's the degree of sexual content, is it cheese cake, is it gay, is there dub-con, is there inflation, the list goes on. Nobody will be mad to know that something they don't like is in something. Well, some people will be, but it's a lot worse when it's a surprise. Also consider, it stops comments asking if there's content like pregnancy in your game or not.

I can not understate how important customization is to a number of people, wanting the body and pronouns they have to be reflected in the player character. This gives text based games a bit of an edge, since it's significantly less resource intensive to accommodate for all these different identities in text vs having to make art assets for every configuration and body type.

There’s a general lack of knowledge on where to actually get adult games. This is due to social media sites making it difficult for adult content to be shared, as well as limited market places for adult content. Epic Game Store has a ban on it, despite allowing for full on con-artist projects like NFT and Crypto games, while Steam requires some settings to be changed that aren't advertised. However, Steam's new feature to hide games definitely helps gamers feel more comfortable acquiring adult games since their friends won't have to know when they're jerking off.

Woman focused content that doesn’t involve non-con is lacking. Meanwhile, a lot of adult games that feature a woman protagonist that does consent either have her be bimbofied or a literal succubus, rather than an actual character that wants sex like their male counterparts. These male counterparts could be extracted from their porn game and placed in any other fantasy story and get along fine, so why not women?

Don’t forget to add a gallery to your game.

[broadsiderenegade]

Playing with a less busy Steam capsule art design. I like my other one but it’s probably too busy to be effective. Still not sure how to improve the text though

[hellinistical]

You asked Zayne for a Darry Ring.

wc: 1k

Morning light streamed through the frosted windows of the small café, casting a warm golden hue on the wooden floors. Outside, the world was cloaked in a blanket of white; snow dusted the rooftops and lined the branches of bare trees. A sharp chill in the air made each person who entered shiver and stamp their feet to shake off the cold.

Inside, the café was a sanctuary of warmth. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. Soft jazz played in the background, barely audible over the gentle hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.

Near the counter, a young woman in a knitted scarf and an oversized coat cupped a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Her breath fogged the rim as she leaned closer, savoring the warmth. At a corner table by the window, a man flipped through a dog-eared paperback, his gloved fingers still red from the cold.

The barista, clad in a green apron, worked methodically, their movements fluid as they crafted intricate foam art atop each latte. A line had formed, patrons clutching scarves around their necks and speaking in low, muffled tones.

Beyond the window, people bustled along the icy street, their steps brisk, their heads bowed against the wind. The café was their respite, a place where time seemed to slow, where the cold couldn't reach.

Zayne’s green eyes narrowed slightly, the confusion in his gaze giving way to faint amusement, though his expression stayed firmly unamused. His black hair, tousled by the brisk winter wind, framed his face in a way that gave him a roguish charm. The pink flush on his cheeks and the tip of his nose betrayed just how cold it was outside, though he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair and raising a single brow as if challenging you to explain yourself.

“And… you want a Darry ring, why?” he repeated, drawing out the last word as though he couldn’t quite believe the ridiculousness of your request.

Behind him, the café bustled on. The soft clinking of mugs and the gentle hum of chatter filled the air, but it all felt distant under his steady gaze. You could see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he clearly wasn’t giving you the satisfaction of smiling outright.

“Well?” he prompted, his tone dry but not entirely devoid of curiosity. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Because you can only get it once—” you began, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Zayne didn’t even let you finish before cutting in, his tone laced with dry skepticism. “Which is a marketing tactic, but go on,” he said, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips now. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, clearly enjoying himself more than he wanted to let on.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to throw your scarf at him. “No, it’s not just that. It’s... special.”

“Right. Because a mass-produced, limited-edition trinket sold to a frenzy of people with fear-of-missing-out syndrome screams special.” He tilted his head, the teasing in his tone now undeniable.

“It’s not about the ring itself,” you said, your voice a little sharper. “It’s about what it represents.”

“And what does it represent? A triumph over capitalism?” Zayne quipped, raising both eyebrows now, his smirk fully formed.

You huffed, glaring at him. “Forget it. I should’ve asked someone else.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, leaning back in his chair with the satisfaction of someone who knew he’d won this round. “So I guess I’ll keep listening... if you really want me to.”

You almost groaned, the sound bubbling in your throat, but the waitress arrived at your table just in time, setting down your orders with a warm smile before disappearing into the cozy bustle of the café.

As Zayne reached for his coffee, smugness practically radiating off him, you decided to strike back. Without a word, you grabbed his mug and took a defiant sip, glaring at him over the rim.

The taste hit you instantly—an overwhelming, cloying sweetness that made your face scrunch up in reflex. It was as though someone had dissolved half a candy store into the cup. You swallowed, though it took more effort than you cared to admit, and slammed the mug back down on the table.

Zayne didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He simply watched you, calm and collected, his expression unchanging save for the faint sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes.

“You knew,” you accused, your voice low, the bitterness of betrayal mixing with the lingering sugar assaulting your taste buds.

“Of course I knew,” he replied smoothly, picking up the mug you had so brazenly stolen from and taking a leisurely sip. “You don’t like sweet things. And this?” He gestured to his coffee. “This is a masterpiece of sweetness. It’s art, really.”

You glared, wiping at your mouth with a napkin like it could somehow erase the taste. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe,” he mused, setting the mug down with a soft clink. “But I’m also the guy who’s going to hear more about this Darry ring nonsense. So, I guess we’re even.”

Zayne sighed, the sound soft but laced with amusement as he watched you all but chug the ice water in a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the overly sweet assault on your taste buds. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing lazily over his chest, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll get you the Darry ring,” he said, his tone unexpectedly—though not entirely surprisingly—affectionate.

You froze mid-sip, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded, his smile widening slightly as he tilted his head. “I’ll even stand in line in the freezing cold if that’s what it takes. Because apparently, you’re willing to wage war over a sugar bomb just to prove a point.”

You set the glass down, still squinting at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head. “You’re not going to tease me about it the entire time?”

“Oh, no, I absolutely will,” he admitted with a low chuckle. “But I’ll still get it for you.”

Your lips twitched, caught between a smile and a frown. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Zayne replied, leaning forward again and resting his chin on his hand, “here we are.”

[centrally-unplanned]

I watched two documentaries recently that were very "2000's nerd culture" which I thought were very fun! In like a meta way as cultural commentary, of course, it is me after all. The first was Indie Game: The Movie, a 2012 documentary on the making Braid, Super Meat Boy, and Fez. It is a "creator-focused" documentary and in particular for the latter two games the film crew actually filmed them mid-production & release, which does make for some authentically heartfelt scenes.

So in a certain sense all eras of documentary will contain this, but the 2000's going into the 2010's was absolutely rife with a new wave of films, often supported by crowdsourcing funds like Indie Game was, primarily concerned with the self-legitimization of niche subcultures. By creating something cohesive, academic, and prestigious like a documentary, the film can codify the subculture as "real" and "worthy", and additionally lend credence to narratives about the subculture that have grown prevalent. And to be clear, this is not a criticism, even if there are parts that are - all meaning and identity is forged in similar ways. But for nerd culture in the 2000's, there was a particularly intense need for this process, because this was the era of nerdom going mainstream. That level of culture shift generated demand for all the above, which films like this aim to supply. There were lot of films of this type - we made a brony "documentary" propaganda film guys, nothing was exempt.

Indie Game is overwhelmingly the story of outsider artists bleeding and dying for their art, which will triumph above all odds. And it leans, heavily, into the bleed; at one point Phil Fish (creator of Fez), openly states he might commit suicide if his game fails. Much screen time is spent on personal sacrifice, financial poverty, the "doubters", etc. This is of course a classic tale for artists, but if I may be so bold that is something of an easy sell - emotionally, narratively - for someone writing the Great American Novel. It is maybe harder to sell if you are making this?

(Cover art by Bryan Lee O'Malley btw - very era appropriate!) How do we make "dude in hat solves puzzles" worth the Starving Artist life?

We do that by positioning these games not as games, but as paradigms. These games, by dint of being the independent vision of unitary creators, are making games that Big Gaming never could. New digital means of distribution are allowing artists to cut out the middleman of publishers, groups that corrupt the real vision of creators. And with no barriers to development, now anyone (maybe...even you?) can make games that can compete in the big leagues. Indie games through this lens are a different product than mainstream titles, and these creators are opening doors. And their suffering is going to be financially rewarded with success and money to boot! That is the narrative Indie Game is selling to its audience of gamers, to understand why the indie games they bought and loved are meaningful.

And to be clear, as much as I am about to deconstruct this, it isn't like totally false or anything. Starting in the late 2000's digital platforms like Steam, more accessible development tools like Unity (released in 2005), and so on did in fact make smaller games appealing to more niche markets more viable, and by virtue of their nicheness yeah they can do things big budget games maybe can't. These creators absolutely had passionate visions for their games, sacrifice for your passions is fine (not bashing that part here), hats off to them. Indie games in this era would absolutely "change gaming".

But not really in the ways this narrative wants them to, nor with the "meaning" people of the time expected it to have. For one, there is a conflict in this documentary of them wanting to highlight "bold new visions" and also wanting to highlight...popular indie games. This is Super Meat Boy, for example:

Yeah, never had a 2D platformer blob guy dodging traps before in gaming! "No see its retro" yeah retro to what, old games? Like those Nintendo made back in the 90's, which you explicitly mention in your documentary? You know, niche indie studio Nintendo? This isn't a bash, at all, at the game itself, but instead the idea that "AAA Studios would never"; they totally would, and always did. There has never been an era where the large gaming studios weren't also making creative games, but for this narrative they need to be propped up as static for it to make sense. And the actual niche indie stuff that big studios wouldn't touch don't sell well enough to justify being in this film!

And the idea of the "solo developer" is also, hm, let us say a bit sus. Not that these developers weren't solo or small teams, they were (though ofc a solo core creator will often have dozens of helpers on supporting roles that get sidelined in this "unitary vision" narrative); but that such a model is all that new? How big do you think development teams were in the 90's for so many classic games? The original Pokemon Red/Blue game had less than a dozen core developers (the total staff list, including American localizers, is ~30 people - Super Meat Boy meanwhile seems to have 16 for comparison). You wanna bring up the dev teams for PC-98 visual novels? They were made in an Akihabara cave with a box of pixel art scraps by like 6 people! You think those games didn't have "unitary creative visions"? Small gaming companies have always been a part of the ecosystem, getting niche titles funded & published using insane magic and pure luck. The "indie boom" is better seen as a change in the numerator.

Though what did change is that, by being self-published, development was approachable by outsiders in new ways. Though even then, this is a bit of a lie - Jonathan Blow of Braid was an industry veteran, and everyone here plays the "convention circuit" and networks with people like the PAX crew and Xbox representatives. But with the games being published by an individual over a studio, even a studio of a half dozen people, it is far easier for the audience to see the creators as "one of them". No office, no suits, just a man in his gamer den banging out his dream. That aesthetic is core to why this narrative was potent at the time, and why making a documentary to codify it was seen as compelling. It takes an already ascendant idea, polishes it, packages it as nonfiction, and then sells the idea back to the people who invented it. LIke so much media, to be clear! I always enjoy seeing it, it is the dialectic of culture in action.

I also find it very funny to see a documentary made in 2012 playing tropes that will become far more ~problematic~ just around the corner. Burnout and work-life balance - in a documentary where a developer, crying, discusses suicide if his game fails, to remind you - is pretty much never mentioned, and a successful game launch is absolutely presented as justifying endless crunch. You would never see that today. The only women in this documentary are wives and parents - which is very amusing, because the co-creator of the film is a woman! No one thinks gender is relevant to mention. Boy would that change in a few years.

Indie games today, of course, are just a segment of the gaming market. They are incredibly common now, so much so that most people lose money making them, people discuss oversaturation, big studio companies have "indie wings" to cover consumer preference ranges, etc. There is no magic in it anymore, it is just dev strategy. So yeah, very enjoyable as a representative time capsule in a strain of culture that is pretty much gone now! The Capital-R Romantic Era of indie gaming; what a time.

In the next post, we are going much more niche, so stay tuned for that. Or don't, I don't know you, and like this was a loooot of writing. Maybe i'll, idk work on that for the next one? ...I probably won't -_-