#egg stamp egg printing

[evermoredeluxe]

How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

[milkteabinniechan]

*⁠♡ That's my girl - Seungmin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. membership // m.list

pairing: bf seungmin x afab reader

warnings: established relationship, puppy play, collar and leash use, pet names, fluff fluff fluff

“You look so great.” Seungmin’s voice hummed in your ear. He usually towered over you, but when you sat on your knees he felt exceptionally taller. He slowly ran his fingers through your hair.

“Just look at you, so obedient.” Seungmin carefully lifted you, facing you towards the bedroom mirror. Your eyes washed over the sight reflected back at you. A light blue collar lay flush against your throat. Soft, white fur lined the inside while a gold-plated paw print was stamped proudly onto the front. Your stomach clenched and squeezed from sheer excitement at the view. You looked like a puppy, like Seungmin’s puppy. A proud smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Does puppy like that?” Seungmin gave you a loving pat on the head. Then he looped his long fingers around the hem of the collar, pulling you into a deep, possessive kiss.

Three days ago was your anniversary. Three days ago, you were just Seungmin’s girlfriend. Three days ago, you had no idea how exciting your boyfriend could be. 

Seungmin had planned an entire day of pampering and spoiling you. You awoke to breakfast in bed and your favorite songs playing over his bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. You pulled yourself out of bed to see him still preparing, pancake batter, egg shells and flour scattered along the counters. Seungmin broke eye contact with his bowl of batter to see you standing in the living room with a smile.

“Go back to bed, it’s not ready yet.” Seungmin continued to stir and whisk.

You chuckled at his tone. People that didn’t know your boyfriend might think he comes off as rude or as cold. But you knew the truth about him. Even if he wasn’t the greatest at showing affection, he gave his entire heart into anything you wanted. Anything you ever needed, he would find a way to get it to you.

You strolled back to bed and tucked yourself under the covers, feigning surprise when Seungmin finally walked into the bedroom, tray in hand. You sat together on the bed and ate your breakfast together. You teased him for cooking and called him a good housewife, he teased you for being lazy and waiting in bed for your food. You pushed and nudged each other playfully until Seungmin’s body was pressed closely against yours. You felt a heated rush of adrenaline as his hands explored the curves of your body. You let your head fall back and melt into the sensation of his fingertips dipping and pulling at the hem of your clothes.

You started to squirm as Seungmin buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting out low, breathy growls into your skin. You absolutely loved when he would get like this, like he would devour you. As if he could tear you apart with his teeth and claim you as his. It made you feel feral, like an animal. Then, as if Seungmin could sense your anticipation, he lightly grazed his teeth against your sensitive flesh. The moan you let out in response told him all he needed to know. He bit down slightly harder on the second bite, adding a bit of pressure and intensity with his teeth. Leaving a reddish mark on your neck, Seungmin licked it slowly. A squeal escaped your lips that could almost be confused with a dog’s yelp. Seungmin paused his biting, lifting his body to look at you.

“Was that a bark?” He asked, eyes darkening a bit.

You felt a wave of fire burn through your core at the question. You were unsure how to answer, you couldn’t tell if Seungmin was disgusted or… proud.

“No. I mean, maybe?” your words fumbled over one another as you tried to find the response he wanted. You held your breath and hoped he wouldn’t leave in distaste. 

Seungmin looked over your face, seeing the fire in your eyes that you were trying to shield from him. A smirk crossed his mouth.

Well,” he grabbed your chin and propped you up to face him. “Can you bark for me?”

Your eyes widened, while a tight and taught band seemed to form in your lower abdomen. Your mouth filled with saliva while any thought that occupied your mind now poured out of your ears and onto the floor.

You took a deep breath and showed Seungmin that you could, in fact, bark for him. The sound bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. Seungmin’s smile widened as he watched you obey him so willingly. Love and affection dripped off every pore as he kissed you. Aggressively pushing his tongue into your open mouth, tangling and swirling with your tongue. Seungmin pulled back from the deep kiss to face you again.

“Now, What else can puppy do?”

**********

The next day was when you had innocently mentioned a collar, well, a necklace. It was a tight choker necklace that loosely resembled a collar but not so obvious that you would freak Seungmin out. Barking in bed was one thing, but wearing a collar for your boyfriend was a whole other step. You squirmed and shifted in your seat while scrolling through the different necklace options. The thought of Seungmin pulling on a collar that he picked out just for you had your mind feeling fuzzy and scrambled. So, when your boyfriend walked through your apartment door, you had a fool-proofed plan prepared to ease him into all of this puppy play stuff.

You watched eagerly as Seungmin set his keys down on the counter and hung his jacket up. He turned towards the door again and revealed a medium-sized pink gift bag. Seungmin usually came home with treats from the bakery next door, so the sight of him with a pink bag was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Can I show you something, Seungminnie?” You asked softly, strategically using his pet name.

Seungmin nodded. “Okay, but then I want to show you something.”

He sat down next to you on the couch and glanced at the website you had pulled up. You showed him the modest and discreet necklaces, careful to not use the word “collar” or “leash.” Once your presentation was over, a look of disappointment washed over Seungmin’s face. His eyes wandered over to the pink bag he had brought inside. Panic instantly claimed your heart and squeezed your veins. Seungmin said nothing as he stood up from the couch and made his way over to the mysterious bag.

“I guess you wouldn’t want this, then?” In his hand lay a light blue collar with a matching leash.

You jumped up from your seat and ran to see your present. You ran your fingers across the carefully stitched leather. Seungmin turned you around and fastened the collar around your throat. The delicate fur lining brushed against your skin, promising to be gentle around your neck.

Oh, Seungminnie… I love it!” You smile warmly and stand on the tips of your toes, wrapping your arms around Seungmin’s neck. He snaked his long arms around your waist and held you close against his body. You breathed his scent in deeply, whispering a soft thank you in his ear.

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[grunklejam]

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10cm x 10cm standee

6 individual components, 5 of which are fully printed uprights

Single-side full-detail components with matte finish

Loaded with Gravity Falls Easter Eggs

Responsibly sourced, 4mm thick Maple veneered MDF

Packed with a miniature linen-effect art print complete with assembly instructions

Black luxury gift box with foam protective insert and gold foil design lid

Exclusive to Not S&P Approved, designed and manufactured in the UK

Obviously, not actually intended for outside use

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Five: The LCCC SS: 3 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 4K Content Warnings:

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame stumbles out of bed, her head pounding faintly from the previous night's tequila-fueled exorcism. The morning is too bright, the faint hum of the city outside grating against her half-awake brain as the doorbell buzzes insistently.

Groaning, she trudges toward the door, muttering curses under her breath. She swings it open to find Hyunjin standing there, looking like he walked straight out of a runway show. His white silk blouse catches the light, tucked neatly into black slacks that cling just enough to make his long legs look even longer. His hair is slicked back in that effortlessly chic way that only Hyunjin can pull off. Draped over one arm are dress bags that scream "expensive."

"Minho-hyung said you needed psychological warfare clothing," he announces without so much as a hello, breezing past her.

Ayame stares after him. "What the actual fuck?" she mutters, shutting the door behind him.

From the kitchen, Minho's voice rings out, obnoxiously chipper despite the early hour. "Relax, Maknae. He's one of us."

"One of who?" Ayame asks, watching as Hyunjin drapes the dress bag over the back of the couch with the flourish of a magician about to reveal his greatest trick.

Hyunjin turns to her, his expression deadly serious. "One of the survivors. The haunted. Changbin's muscles haunt me."

Minho pokes his head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, a smirk playing on his lips. "True story. He told me about a dream he had where Changbin put him in a headlock and what was it again, Hyunjin?"

"Fucking railed me," Hyunjin says without a shred of shame, smoothing the fabric of the dress bag like it's a holy relic. "I confessed to Minho-hyung, and now we're a support group."

Ayame blinks at them, her grogginess making the scene feel even more surreal. "This is insane."

"It gets worse," Hyunjin says ominously, unzipping the bag. "The dreams never stop. You're our newest member now."

Ayame groans, dragging her hands down her face. "Fantastic. This is exactly what I needed."

Hyunjin pulls out a black lace-up blouse and a matching black mini skirt, holding them up with a gleam of triumph in his eye. "This is how we fight back. Psychological warfare, little maknae."

Minho strides out of the kitchen, holding a plate of bacon in one hand and a frying pan in the other. "He's right. Look hot, feel hot, fuck the system but never the Miroh trolls. Breakfast will be ready in five."

Hyunjin lays the blouse and skirt on the couch, then retrieves a pair of black Louboutin stilettos from a second bag. "You're going to destroy souls in this. Trust me."

Ayame rubs her temples, but she doesn't argue as Hyunjin grabs her straighteners from her bathroom. He sits her down on a stool near the coffee table, sectioning her hair with quick movements. The sharp scent of heated ceramic fills the room as he works in focused silence.

"We can't give in, you know that, right?" Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice calm but firm as he runs the straightener down another section of her hair.

"I know," Ayame murmurs, watching him in the mirror he's propped up on the table. His concentration is almost unnerving, his brow furrowed just slightly.

When he finishes, he steps back and inspects his handiwork like an artist admiring a completed masterpiece. "Hair done. Now for the face."

Hyunjin switches to her makeup, blending and brushing with precision that makes Ayame question whether he's secretly a professional. When he finally steps back, he nods approvingly. "There. Office siren."

Minho reappears from the kitchen, setting plates of bacon and eggs on the counter. "Breakfast is ready!" he announces, then pauses, looking Hyunjin over. "Did you bring me anything?"

Hyunjin grins, pulling a second bag from the floor. "Obviously. I couldn't leave you out."

He produces a purple silk blouse, black slacks, shiny black shoes, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings. For the finishing touch, he holds up a sleek black beret like it's a crown.

Ayame snickers. "Minho, I might start calling you Mommy."

Minho takes the clothes and beret, his expression unbothered. "Give me five minutes." He disappears into her bathroom, and Ayame turns to Hyunjin.

"Is this what my life is now?"

Hyunjin shrugs. "Your fault for dreaming about Chan."

Before Ayame can retort, Minho emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed in the outfit. He strikes a pose, hands on his hips, the pearls catching the light as he tilts his head dramatically. "Well? On a scale from one to fabulous, how do I look?"

Ayame hums, taking a sip of her coffee. "I may be pansexual, but you're confusing me right now."

Minho smirks, ruffling her hair affectionately before sitting at the table. "Aww, Aya, you're so cute. My little baby Maknae."

"Don't make me fall in love with you, Oppa," Ayame teases, digging into the bacon and eggs he's plated for her.

Minho gasps, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. "You mean you're not in love with me? Betrayed! Heartbroken!"

Hyunjin snorts, joining them at the table with his own plate. "I'm glad I brought this support group together. You two are a fucking disaster, but at least you're our disaster."

The front door swings open with all the subtlety of a battering ram, and Seungmin strides into Ayame's apartment like he's already over the day, despite it barely starting. He's dressed in his signature uniform of quiet indifference. A dark sweater and perfectly fitted jeans that scream I care just enough to look good, but not enough to try.

"Food's on the stove," Minho calls from the table, barely glancing up from his coffee, which he's nursing like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

"Thank you," Seungmin replies dryly, kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for the kitchen. He grabs the pot of coffee Ayame left out, pouring himself a steaming cup before taking a cautious sip. His face softens, though he doesn't let the appreciation show more than a fraction. "Coffee's good, Maknae. Thanks."

Ayame smirks, sitting on the couch in her freshly styled look, her Louboutin heels resting on the coffee table. "You're welcome, Oppa Three. Help yourself to breakfast before Oppa One inhales everything."

Minho sets his fork down with exaggerated offence. "Excuse you, I cooked that food."

"And then ate half of it," Hyunjin mutters from where he's sprawled in an armchair, legs dangling over one armrest, phone in hand. He's scrolling aimlessly, but his tone carries the usual bite of his dramatic commentary.

Seungmin grabs a plate, his movements methodical as he loads it with eggs, bacon, and toast. "So, why do you three look like you're on the cover of Hot Corporate Takeover Weekly? Are we seducing the board of directors now?"

"We're fucking with the board of directors and all the Miroh trolls," Minho corrects, gesturing vaguely at his own outfit. "Psychological warfare, Seungmin. Learn it. Live it. Love it"

Hyunjin suddenly perks up, setting his phone aside as a grin spreads across his face. "Oh, Seungmin! I almost forgot, I brought something for you, too."

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, already bracing himself. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

Hyunjin leaps out of his chair with the kind of enthusiasm that suggests he's been waiting for this moment all morning. He unzips his garment bag with an overly dramatic flourish, pulling out a crisp red button-up shirt and a pair of sleek black slacks. "You're welcome. Join the cause."

Seungmin eyes the outfit like it's an unsolicited tax bill. "If I hate this, I'm blaming you."

"You won't hate it," Hyunjin says confidently, thrusting the clothes into Seungmin's hands. "You'll look hot, and you'll thank me later."

With a resigned sigh, Seungmin disappears into the bathroom to change. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the rest of them to wait.

Minho leans back in his chair, swirling his coffee with lazy satisfaction. "What are the odds he actually complains about looking hot? Seungmin is genetically incapable of hating how good he looks."

"He'll grumble," Ayame says, resting her chin in her hand. "But deep down, he'll love it. He just won't admit it because that would ruin the whole brooding thing he's got going on."

"Like someone else I know," Minho teases, nudging her foot with his own. "Admit it, Maknae, you live for the chaos."

Ayame smirks, leaning back into the cushions. "I don't need to admit shit."

When the bathroom door opens, the apartment falls silent for a moment as Seungmin steps out. The red shirt pops vividly against his skin, the black slacks tailored so perfectly they look like they were made for him. Even his hair, which usually leans toward strategically messy, seems to cooperate for once, framing his face like he's walked straight off a runway.

Hyunjin lets out a low whistle, dragging his phone up to snap a quick picture. "Damn. We've outdone ourselves."

Minho raises his coffee cup in mock salute. "You're a fucking masterpiece, Seungmin. Own it."

Seungmin rolls his eyes, but the faintest twitch of a smile tugs at his lips. "You're all insane. Let's eat before you start calling me Mommy Seungmin."

Ayame grins, patting the seat next to her. "Don't tempt Minho. You know he'll do it."

Minho, already halfway through another forkful of bacon, nods solemnly. "I would. Without hesitation. But he's going to be seducing everyone at the office"

Seungmin glares, though it lacks any real venom. "I am not seducing anyone at that fucking office."

Hyunjin smirks. "Well, not with that attitude."

The entrance to the Levanter-Miroh building buzzes with the usual morning chaos. Phones ringing off the hook, heels clicking against polished marble floors, and muted conversations blending into the steady hum of corporate life. The routine disorder comes to an abrupt halt the moment Minho, Ayame, Seungmin, and Hyunjin sweep in like a hurricane of chaos and beauty.

Minho leads the charge, his purple silk blouse gleaming under the harsh lights, the pearls around his neck sitting like a knight's armour, weaponized for psychological warfare. His every step is calculated, a purposeful swagger that screams don't fuck with me. 

Ayame walks beside him, a picture of lethal elegance in her black lace-up blouse and mini skirt, the cut sharp enough to make her every move a command. Her Louboutins click against the floor, announcing her presence before anyone even looks up. 

Behind them, Seungmin walks with his usual air of unaffected cool, the crimson of his shirt vivid against his skin, the perfect contrast to his calm, unreadable expression.

Bringing up the rear, Hyunjin struts like the entire office is his runway, his white silk blouse billowing slightly with every graceful step, his dark slacks hugging his long legs perfectly.

The quartet moves as a unit, like a well-dressed battalion ready to conquer, and heads snap in their wake. Conversations falter, coffee cups freeze mid-air, and a wave of stunned silence rolls through the entrance.

In the kitchenette, Jisung stands slack-jawed, his coffee halfway to his mouth. He smacks Chan, Jeongin, and Changbin on the arms, nearly spilling his drink. "Holy fucking shit," he mutters, his voice hushed like he's witnessing a divine revelation. "It's like Mean Girls, but hotter. Way fucking hotter."

Chan raises an eyebrow, glancing up from his coffee just as Ayame passes by. Her perfume, warm vanilla and tart cherries, cuts through the antiseptic staleness of the office like a goddamn weapon. It lingers in the air, and though his face remains as neutral as ever, the scent lodges itself in his mind, uninvited and immovable.

"Fuck," Changbin breathes, eyes locked on Hyunjin as he watches the silk blouse shift with every movement. "I would absolutely rail Hwang Hyunjin."

Jeongin snorts into his coffee, shaking his head. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell's right with me," Changbin counters, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin's retreating figure. "That man is not of this earth. Look at him. He's a fucking Renaissance painting come to life."

"They hate us," Jisung says, his tone balancing somewhere between awe and exasperation. "They think we're corporate dick-suckers. And honestly? Fair. But fuck, I'd sell my soul to fuck any one of them."

Changbin lets out a low laugh, finally looking away from Hyunjin. "Hyunjin's mine. I'll marry that androgynous masterpiece one day. Mark my words."

"Seungmin's mine," Jeongin pipes up, setting his coffee down like he's just made a contractual declaration. "That man is a wet dream in a red shirt. Did you see him? That fucking red shirt."

Jisung leans back against the counter, grinning as he takes a sip of coffee. "You're all aiming too small. I'm calling it now, I want Ayame, Minho, or both. Why not go big?"

Chan's grip tightens ever so slightly on his coffee cup, but his face stays blank. "Leave Lim out of it."

"Oh, come on," Jisung says, nudging Chan's arm. "Minho's hot, yeah, but Ayame? Imagine getting her in bed. Those legs? That attitude? She'd fucking-"

"Enough." Chan's voice cuts through the kitchenette, low and cold. "I don't want to hear you talking about her like that. It's degrading. She's our colleague."

Jisung pauses, tilting his head as he studies Chan's carefully neutral expression. "Okay. Fine. Minho it is, then. I'll fill my mouth with his cock and keep my feminist conscience clear."

Changbin nearly spits out his coffee, doubling over with laughter. "Holy shit, Jisung, what the fuck?"

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning as he leans against the counter. "This place is such a fucking circus. Why do we even bother pretending we're normal?"

Chan doesn't answer, his gaze drifting toward the elevator where Ayame steps inside. She moves with purpose, her heels clicking a deliberate rhythm against the tile. She doesn't look at him as the doors slide shut, but his eyes linger on the empty space long after she's gone.

Behind him, Jisung is still going on about Minho's thighs, while Changbin and Jeongin debate whether Seungmin or Hyunjin would make the better househusband. Chan exhales sharply, draining the rest of his coffee in one long gulp.

Another day in this hellscape.

He walks out, ignoring the way his mind keeps replaying the sound of Ayame's heels and the lingering scent of vanilla and cherries. Behind him, Jisung's voice carries over the buzz of the office. "I swear to god, if Minho even looked at me without hatred, I'd throw my entire paycheck at him."

Chan steps into their shared office, his presence a gravitational pull that Ayame tries to ignore as she flips through a file. His sharp eyes immediately land on her, lingering on the perfectly deliberate lines of her lace-up blouse, the curve of her black mini skirt, and the lethal elegance of her Louboutins. Her glossy red lips catch the light as she absently swipes another layer of clear gloss across them, and for a moment, his neutral expression falters. Just for a moment.

"You've done a whole... thing," he says, gesturing vaguely toward her outfit with one hand while the other clutches his bag. His tone is casual, but his gaze is anything but. "And the lipstick."

"I always wear red lipstick," Ayame replies coolly, not bothering to look up as she flips a page in her file.

"Not like whatever this is," Chan mutters, his tone dipping into something harder to decipher. He sets his bag down with more force than necessary and pulls out his laptop, the sharp clack of it opening filling the room.

Ayame finally glances up, smirking as she caps the gloss. "Weird dreams do that to people."

Chan freezes, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. His gaze snaps back to her, and there's something sharp in his expression now. "You had a sex dream."

Ayame's smirk vanishes, replaced by a glare so pointed it could puncture his ego. "No."

Chan leans back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, his tone far too casual to be innocent. "Was I in it?"

Ayame's head jerks up fully now, and she fixes him with a stare that could kill lesser men. "Only in your dreams would you ever be in my dreams."

His lips twitch at the edges, amusement threatening to spill over, but Ayame doesn't give him the chance to gloat.

"It was a guy from work," she says, leaning back in her chair with an air of affected nonchalance, her tone deliberately breezy. "Everything you're not. Hot, funny, not a corporate dick-sucking robot. And I have a date with him tonight."

Chan's eyebrow quirks, his fingers tapping once against the edge of his desk. "Do you now?"

Before Ayame can fire back, the sound of raised voices cuts through the office like a siren. Both of their heads snap toward the open door just as Nari and Haechul storm off the elevator, their argument already loud enough to carry across the entire floor.

"God forbid we actually invest in something artistically worthwhile!" Nari snaps, her heels clicking with an intensity that mirrors the fire in her voice as she marches toward her office.

"You know what your problem is, Nari?" Haechul shoots back, following closely behind with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. "You think it's beneath you to give people what they actually want! Me? I don't give a shit! People want a book on animal dicks? I'll parade the animals all the way to the fucking bank!"

"This is what I get for selling my soul to Mephistopheles!" Nari yells, spinning on her heel to face him.

Haechul halts, blinking in genuine confusion. "Who?"

Nari throws her hands in the air, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Read a fucking book!"

The two stomp off to their respective offices, slamming their doors so hard the walls tremble slightly. The lingering tension hangs in the air, only broken by Ayame muttering under her breath, "Good morning to them."

Chan leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk firmly intact. "Always a pleasure to see our fearless leaders getting along."

Ayame snorts, shaking her head as she refocuses on her laptop. The tapping of keys fills the room for a moment before Chan breaks the silence.

"So," he says, his tone too casual to be innocent, "when and where is this supposed date happening?"

Ayame doesn't look up, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard. "You're very interested. Why's that?"

"Studies show that when managers feign interest in their employees' personal lives, it boosts morale," Chan replies smoothly, not missing a beat. "That, and I think you're lying."

Ayame leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she meets his gaze. "I'm meeting him for drinks at the shisha bar at seven."

Chan stands, smoothing the lapels of his blazer with deliberate ease. He picks up his coffee mug, his movements slow and deliberate. "What a coincidence," he says, his tone practically dripping with amusement. "I'm going to the shisha bar tonight at seven too."

Ayame's head snaps up, her glare as sharp as her stilettos. "You're fucking joking."

"Not at all," Chan says with a grin so smug it makes her want to throw something at him. "Looking forward to seeing you there."

Ayame groans, dragging her hands down her face. "You're the fucking worst."

Chan chuckles, walking toward the door. "See you tonight, shortcake."

As the door clicks shut behind him, Ayame slams her laptop closed with a force that rattles the desk. "Fan-fucking-tastic," she mutters, already contemplating how much alcohol it will take to survive the night.

Ayame bursts into Minho's office like a woman on a mission, the sharp click of her Louboutins echoing in the small space. She slams the door shut with enough force to rattle the frosted glass panel, making Minho glance up lazily from where he's lounging in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk.

Seungmin, perched on the edge of the desk with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, doesn't even flinch. Hyunjin sprawls across the couch like a Victorian damsel fainting onto a chaise, his phone held above his face as he scrolls aimlessly. The three of them turn toward her with varying degrees of interest.

Minho sighs, dragging a hand through his hair as he leans back further. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Ayame snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut steel as she throws her hands in the air. Her accusatory finger shoots toward Minho like a loaded weapon. "This is your fault!"

Minho blinks, finally setting his feet on the ground and leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. "What the fuck did I do?"

"Yes, you! You and Hyunjin, with your stupid psychological warfare bullshit!"

Hyunjin glances up from his phone, his brows raising with faint interest. "Oh, we're taking credit for something? I love that for us."

Seungmin hides his smirk behind his coffee cup, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Alright, spill it. What's got you stomping around like a rejected K-drama lead?"

Ayame stops pacing, leaning over Minho's desk, her palms pressing flat against the surface as she glares at him. "Who in this godforsaken office would date me?"

Without missing a beat, the three answer in perfect unison. "Seonghwa."

Minho leans back again, crossing his arms and smirking. "Why?"

"I told Chan that I have a date tonight with a guy from work, and now he's decided to show up at the fucking shisha bar because he thinks I'm lying which I am. So now I actually need a date, thanks to you assholes."

Minho smirks wider, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "And this is somehow my fault?"

"Entirely!" Ayame snaps, gesturing between him and Hyunjin. "You two convinced me to dress like this, like some femme fatale in a crime drama, and now I'm spiralling faster than a plane crash. This is all on you."

Hyunjin swings his legs off the couch, sitting up straighter with a grin. "First of all, you look hot. You're welcome. Second, we empowered you. Big difference."

"Seonghwa will say yes," Minho says dismissively, grabbing Seungmin's coffee without asking and taking a sip, earning a glare. "He's basically your golden retriever. You're good."

"Great," Ayame mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I'll just throw myself at him, then."

Seungmin clears his throat, his tone more curious than teasing. "Wait, hold up. Why does Chan showing up bother you so much? What's the big deal?"

Before Ayame can respond, Minho chimes in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "She had a sex dream about him."

Seungmin nods solemnly, sipping his coffee. "Welcome to the club."

Ayame whirls on him, her jaw dropping. "You too? Who did you dream about?"

Seungmin doesn't even blink. "Jeongin."

"The IT guy? IT Jeongin? Yang Jeongin from the IT department?"

"Yes," Seungmin says simply, his tone so calm it's borderline eerie.

Hyunjin waves his phone like he's signalling a touchdown. "Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you. Seungmin's been part of the club for, like, two months. He confessed over soju."

Ayame groans, dragging her hands down her face. "Why the fuck is this my life?"

"You're one of us now," Minho says with a shit-eating grin, raising his coffee cup like he's toasting to her misery.

Ayame walks to the door, yanking it open and poking her head out. "Hwa!"

Seonghwa looks up from his desk across the room, his face lighting up immediately. "Yeah?"

"Drinks tonight? Shisha bar. Seven?"

"Hell yeah," Seonghwa replies, grinning like a puppy who just got offered a treat. "Count me in."

Ayame ducks back into the office, smirking triumphantly as she slams the door shut again. "Done. At least now I have a date, and Bang Chan can stick that up his unfairly perfect ass."

Minho bursts into laughter, clutching his stomach as he leans back in his chair. "That poor man. Salivating over the scraps you throw him while you're here, secretly part of the Lusting for Corporate Cock Club."

"Or the LCCC for short," Hyunjin hums as he squints at his phone.

Ayame glares daggers at him, her cheeks flushing. "At least I'm not dreaming about Jeongin!"

"Jeongin is charming," Seungmin says firmly, like he's defending a national treasure.

Hyunjin tilts his head, his tone suddenly serious. "Question, is Chan's ass a BBL?"

Seungmin shrugs, considering. "I've heard rumours. It's a BBL."

"It has to be," Minho says, nodding with conviction. "Nobody's born with an ass like that."

"Absolutely a BBL," Ayame mutters, flopping onto the couch next to Hyunjin. "No fucking way that's natural."

"Can't be anything else," Hyunjin agrees solemnly, as though discussing scientific fact.

The four of them sit in a brief moment of absurd silence before Minho claps his hands together. "Well. This day is already fucking fantastic."

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

[zhalfirin]

Winnie-the-Pooh - A.A. Milne with decorations by Ernest H. Shepard

I got the chance to bind this wonderful typeset by @mourningmountainsbindery Many thanks for that!

Materials used

case

binders board (3mm) book cloth (uncoated) decorations, laser printed recessed paper onlay title, hot stamped

inner book

paper: Schleipen Fly 05 (115gsm) endpapers: marbled paper by @renato-crepaldi endbands: Gütermann button hole silk edge decoration: gauffered egge with acrylic paint, waxed and polished

format: 11,5cm x 15cm

[dognonsense]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Serena Rios McRae | Tucson Art (@cactuscloudsart)

this person carved this toast eraser linocut set and it came out so beautifully. thats really of the beauty of this recycled book they made, it allows u to try any idea no matter how crazy it fosters a creative environment. they had an idea for carving this toast eraser and the book allowed them to stamp them out and get the idea for an print.

its also good to break down how the new unexpected source of medium allowed for creativity. where the shape of the toast eraser can be inspiration, for well then whats on the toast? and then carving the lil eggs and strawberries. by allowed their focus to be on what was on the toast entirely, the limitation of the exercise fostered creativity.

boundless possibility, and extreme limitation are very important for fostering art in their own unique ways and are important to balance and try in different ratios to discover new art to make

[mrkoppa]

03 October 2024, 22:04 | Hotel Desk Collage Lab, Country Inn & Suites, Middleton, Dane County, Wisconsin

Finished with leftover egg prints of JoAnna Poehlmann drawings and birds cut by JoAnna’s hand from her collection of postage stamps.

Decided it’s done.

Tentatively titled As the Gears Turn.

[sturdy-and-soundproof]

Wyveon mail!

<a small, white and pink wyveon, roughly the size of a small adult human, places a basket of dyed eggs and candies nearby with an invitation card from Joan, Sylph, and Professor Sandalo>

“Hey smol friend! In about a month, we’re gonna be having a sowing and fertility festival week and we wanted to see if you and one of your carers wanted to come! We have crafting contests, and cooking contests, and we have egg finding contests, and we’ll have some games and other cool stuff! like, I’ll be teaching a Pokemon health assistant class so little Pokemon can see if they wanna be hospital or service ‘mon when they get bigger! There’s even gonna be a music competition, called a “Battle of the Bands”, and a talent show! If y’all don’t come, that’s ok, I’ll just send you some stuff. Oh, and Joan says hi!” <the card is signed by Professor Sandalo and is stamped with Sylph’s nose print and Joan’s paw print>

ahh hi again miss Sandalo.. unfortunately due to recent events, we're not traveling anywhere. Thank you for the invite and the candies though. They're appreciated :)

[zhalfirin-binds]

WIP Winnie-the-Pooh

Part VI decorating and titling the case

This cover is a mess of different decoration techniques. There is the depression for an inlay, a laser printed picture of Winnie, the honey pot on the back side is painted on and finally the title was hot stamped.

As a last touch I added the inlay for the balloon and immediately messed up because I cut the marbled paper too small and it looked more egg-like.  So I went fixing it... 

Which gave me a differently shaped egg with paper running up the edge of the set back area -_-

So I kept fixing and now it looks pretty balloon-shaped.

If nothing else worked I was prepared to add another, better cut piece of paper. But I liked the little heart in the other cut out, so I really wanted that to work.

[little-pup-prince]

Jack Krauser as a caregiver (mainly for petre) / and as a little or flip

but separated for those who would only like to be babies

pre infection and post resi 4 he is thinking about retiring so you coming into his life is a blessing

a reason to cling to his sanity, someone he can protect and spend his ridiculous amounts of money on he gets either as a salary or as a pension

loves when you regress and show weakness as he isnt used to a display of that total daintiness. adores it wholeheartedly and wouldnt change it for anything.

loves the outdoors and car rides/roadtrips, if you accompany him on one he will be over the moon

camping trips with just the two of you, making marshmallows and stargazing are frequent with him

you can howl at the moon/ bring him cool sticks and rocks you found,/ you can even hunt and catch some insects, but he always reminds you to put them back to their place later as they are living beings too

you can play hunt with him tho as well, he is a master of hide and seek (but will tone it down for you)

you can watch movies in the car without headphones on

will teach you campfire songs and tell you o n l y the exciting and funny stories of when he was working

loves a puppy regressor, but is open to any other animal and he will be fascinated to learn to care for you in new ways

you two will visit pet shops and he lets you choose toys and equipment for helping you regress

will bake you cokies resembling dog treats/make you chicken strips and eggs (fox), i can see him fishing from time to time and he is happy to prepare his catch for you (cat)/ will keep gummy worms and sliced fruit in his backpack for you (rodent, bat) if you like them even different seeds, nuts and dried fruit (the student mix rocks imo) as well

any time you want to go outside he will go with you to the backyard and watch you explore and play and even join you if you ask i him, any way, he wont take his eyes off of you

likes playing chase or tug o' war and he commits to the bit with holding back and letting you win, but we can tire you out (either pre infection or post re4 that is very considerate and impressive of him with all that power and the physique)

you will have your own little playground with slides and swings amd monkeybars but he is perfectly okay with taking you to one in the neighbourhood

watching shows on animal planet about the one you regress to - will tell you if the cuties in the show act just like you and will praise you for it

if youd like he can give you a cute petname (there is a big chance it has the structure similar to  the codenames they used all the time)

not experienced with a little not as a pet regressor but regardless will be eager to learn and helps with the regression

is very patient amd lets you stay in the headspace as long as you like

prints you coloring pages (using the militarys money)

no but really scrap papers, templates noone will ever fill, he just takes and uses the other side

now your colored pages sometimes will have a military stamp of the branch he workes in on

and sometimes gets your art mixed in between his work papers

likes helping you out with your creative projects

very lenient on your bedtime as having the night to himself and passing out at 2am watching something with you on the tv, when the kids channels all have either switched to some other type, are repeating episodes or are playing really old shows is a rare treat he couldnt have without the consequence of being tired all day next day

now you two are sleeping in as much as you can and enjoying life

likes morning walks with you on the occasions you wake up early, when the neighbours are still asleep and the sun hasnt risen yet

if you get tired he can carry you

will cook for you but hasnt got anything against fast food

will surprise you with toys he saw you looking at online or you got mesmerised with watching an ad

some of the shows you two watch together are: bluey, jake the pirate, paw patrol, mickey mouse clubhouse, the crearure cases, scooby-doo, the garfield show, madagascar, barbie and the newest my little pony series - he likes the old one as well but thinks it may be a bit scary somstimes for a little

flip part

sometimes when he reads you a story his mother used to for him as well he gets emotional and may regress with you

this feeling isnt new to him but only since meeting you can he really word what he feels and needs

its perfectly fine he doesnt push you to be his caregiver if its not in your nature or put you of your headspace, he is content with playing and cuddling with you

but if you take care if him when little/pet regressed or if you arent a typical cg but as his beloved he at the moment doesnt wanna label his nature of relationship with, he will melt

will totally cry

will cry everything out those moments

slipping into littlespace especially, there is at least an hour of that always in the beginning

uses baby-talk or goes non-verbal

doesnt like to think of you as his mommy, because the relationship with his family is complicated: the relationship with his mom is sacred. this is not to say you can never fill the void in his heart left by growing up and away from her, he just doesnt wanna put that burden on you, this holy image of a guardian, kind of like God. his mom tried her best to keep him safe, yet he went off to the most tiresome, cruel and demaning job, he still feels ambiguous about it, thinking he upset his mom by going against her kind nature. his dad better not mentioned, doesnt like to think of him even not in littlespace, he absolutely forgets he has a dad when regressed.

sometimes he just repeats "im sorry" over and over. about his men, how he treated leon if he went the canon way, if not how he almost turned to the dark side.

wants you to kiss his scars better.

big hoodies to hide his arms, he still feels insecure about them. you can reassure him he is the strong and brave boy he was.

has a 50+cm plushie of his fave animal which he carries around everywhere

you will have a cd collection of all the shows and movies he liked as a kid

he will be commenting on them while you two watch it and introduce you to the characters. if you get lost, totally helps you out by telling you the story

if you make him meals he had as a kid he will cry happy tears

is open to modern media as well

at one point he totally was into pokemon, but seeing his beloved characters fighting is saddening to him so he only plays pretend with raising them

his plushie collection. totally has the cats legs hanging down to the floor. yall need to wash that one more or put socks on it so those will get dirty instead of the stuffie

gives names to all his plushies and has a journal where he writes down what happened with them in their day to day life

you can regress together as well and have tea parties with them

[karczel]

Hi 👋

As a sky player,

I dreamt that the color of the nine deer season requires a cup with water filled chickpeas that was classified as a muffin,

and if we collect the valentine’s bows currency we’ll get discount by 16 baht per bow

(when you pick it up it will stay like that so I got some plastic bag in beginning before I entered the supermarket, they’ll feel quite study to hold)

and these bows appear every time set duration on in the market in the same fashion they appear in sky

I remember jumping as I grab as many as I can, the supermarket was packed and crowded with people and they’ll respawn on different section depending on the time

Each muffins were 15-18 baht but they were big enough to fill my hand when I hold it

When I got to the cashier, it was getting quite empty after I get my variety of muffins,

In the end I got:

- an entire chocolate muffins with Genshin slime blue eyes(printed on chocolate’s

- a normal chocolate chip cookie with a few distinct chocolate chips that look like it was pressed with sigil of stamp press

- chocolate muffin with lotus petal bakery formation and liquid chocolate in the middle, I got 2 with different designs

- some other more to fill 7 positions of muffins I got beside the ‘chickpeas cupcake’

- 3 eggs and 3 salted eggs, presumably ready for consumption

Some how the cashier was Amaury Guichon

He was surprised to see the heaps of things I got and then understood after seeing the bag of bows for discount

He go through all the things and check the egg with one of them

The boiled egg was runny and the salted egg there were still some yellow of the egg white

After I tasted it I realized the salted egg was raw and worry about the salmonella in it

and then I woke up

[starkerscoop]

caveat emptor (Ch. 1)

Inspired by Squid Game :)

also on ao3

Tony turned over the sleek card in his hands.

It was smooth and soft. Expensive. Tony used to know what expensive felt like; the memory was doused in a maudlin haze, far from reach.

That was all before Obadiah Stane. 

Tony knew nothing of riches now. He slept on a stained mattress he bought at a garage sale for five bucks. It was riddled with holes that were burrowed into the fabric by moths to lay eggs that have yet to hatch. 

He was perched on that mattress now, reading the two words printed onto the card, over and over, until they were seared into his brain. 

Caveat emptor.

Let the buyer beware.

Tony inhaled, deep and a touch shaky. What did he have to lose nowadays? The meager earnings he sent to his landlord. The apartment that could never feel like home. The despairing eyes that bored into his soul whenever he dared look into a mirror. The moth-eaten mattress he thought was a steal. 

His list used to be infinite. It could be again. 

Tony stuffed the card into the pocket of his worn jeans. He left the apartment without looking back. The destruction of his life had the effect of detaching him from his belongings. Tony thought maybe it should be the other way around. 

He strolled through the streets with confidence he didn’t feel. The darkness of the city enveloped him, shadows reaching for him with greedy fingers, combated by the dim streetlamps that illuminated his way. 

New York City didn’t have very many payphones left. It was rapidly progressing technologically, a great deal of which could be attributed to Stark Industries. That used to fill him with immense pride. He searched for that feeling within himself and felt his mouth flood with bitter contempt.

Tony kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk as he made his way to the closest payphone he knew of. This seemed to be his lucky night—he’d spotted two quarters over the length of his walk. 

The quarters were hastily slid into the slot in the phone booth. His future felt bright, suddenly, attainable if only he could get the damn coins in the machine. 

He fished his lifeline from his pocket, grasping it delicately with his left hand, his right punching in the silver numbers stamped on one side of the card. 

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times, and Tony was starting to tremble, his grasp loosening on the business card. 

His call was picked up before his heart could ratchet up a few more notches. 

“Anthony Stark,” a deep-voiced man greeted. “Are you accepting our gracious invitation?” 

Tony nodded firmly to himself. “I am.” 

“A car is en route to your location. Stay where you are.” The man hung up. 

They’d anticipated his response. They were watching him. Tony dropped the phone and the card, the former dangling over the latter after it fluttered to the ground. His fingers curled into tight fists as he fought back the shivers that raced up his spine. 

Even in poverty he couldn’t escape the watchful eyes. 

Two beams of headlights turned into the street, burning his eyes where he now stood in front of the phone booth. He ducked his head reflexively, escaping the bright light, and was unable to notice the opening of the car’s back door.

“Get in,” barked the driver. 

Tony took one last look at his surroundings. He couldn’t say he was upset to be leaving. Excitement ran through his veins despite his considerable fear, a delicious cocktail that spurred him to climb into the car. 

The door closed on its own. Tony settled in his leather seat, foregoing his seatbelt in favor of scrutinizing the driver. The driver silently shifted gears and began to drive. The details of his face were impossible to make out. His mouth and nose were concealed by a plain cloth, and his eyes were hidden by sunglasses despite the time of night.

That’s my thing, Tony thought petulantly. 

Tony’s eyes drifted upward, hoping to at least make note of the driver’s hair. It was covered by a hat, and Tony barely had time to feel annoyed by that before he noticed a divider going up between him and the driver. 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. A quiet hissing preceded the entrance of a white vapor. It drifted towards him, filling up the backseat and embracing his face. Tony reached for the door handle, jerking it roughly to no avail. The vapor crawled up his nostrils and Tony reared back, coughing. 

His movements grew more sluggish. His hand slackened and fell from the door handle, landing on his lap with a muted thud. 

His eyes closed despite the fight he put up. He was out like a light, and the car carried on, taking him away to an uncertain future. 

Whether he liked it or not. 

[ancientegyptianjewellery]

Seal Rings! Most of the rings I saw had a "Khepri", which was a scarab representing a rising Sun god. It was sign of fertility and rebirth for Egyptians, and that belief comes from the fact that the scarab beetle pushes through the desert an excrement ball where it previously deposited its eggs, until a point where newly born scarabs start to come out! Watching that event must be intriguing, new life coming from "nothing" - self creation! Because of this, they associated it with the daily self rebirth of the Sun. These rings are named "Seal Rings" because in fact they are stamps! they have a spinning axis, one side of the ring has a sculpted stone/gold/cloissone beetle and the other side a personal insignia for printing in clay. Multipurpose! I love it Read more 📚 http://gemagenta.blogspot.com/2010/04/ancient-egyptian-jewelry-at-met-museum.html?m=1 (at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpvOEAdM78q/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[titsoutfortntduo]

THEYRE HERE

Unfortunately the Oregon one doesn’t seem to be authentic (the back gives it away :/ It is the same as on the sellers page so egg on my face for that) but the print looks very nice! The picture was originally printed 10-24-1938

The Las Vegas one was printed 10-19-1937??? Holy shit. I have two Nevada cards from curt teich but the other one is from 1941. Losing my mind over this. It is a used card so there’s writing on the back and it’s stamped 1953 so I don’t know if it’s actually from 1937 or if the original design started being printed in 1937. Either way this rocks I’m so happy

I’m still waiting on one more! Very excited. It’s the one with the sad looking dog I posted a pic of a little while back lol

[vvvbbghhbhhhggvvf]

cfvgg swamps candace marie hughes jurassic park fvg dinosaur size housed cfvg houses eggs delivered cfvg paid egg gbhhh sized scaled cfvfg - 77788 paid laid paid locked 333488 delivered cfvgg paid ghbbbvv paid laid paid locked L k. eggs fccvvfg, jnnhbhg, fc sized cfvgg delivered paid ccvvfg eggs sized cccvv - 88877 gbhhhyytt5 delivered gvvfc paid gvbgh 6667778 554 social security grounds cccvfg lands earth numbers gvfc - gvbgh locked delivered eggs cvvfg paid laid paid locked owner candace marie hughes swamps paid laid earth hbgv paid delivered hnjj paid laid paid locked candace marie hughes fcccdx 4443332 houses landings swamps cvvfg grounds cv land paid earth laid paid locked paid laid paid candace marie hughes columbine school hbgv sized eggs delivered paid laid paid jn-889////65 fcvvfg eggs scaled cfvg delivered paid laid paid locked vvbbghh eggs xccfff baggings delivered paid locked laid paid locked candace marie hughes farm earth laid paid laids paid locked candace marie hughes delivered fsssxxxccc farmed cvfg eggs sized xcfvg delivered paid laid scaled paperes cvvdf stamp vbgh enveloped cccfvfg envelopes paid printed cccvvfg mailings paid delivered paid laid paid locked 6665///89 nnjjjhh bbvgf-8899077 paid laid paid locked candace marie hughes paid locked on. on. paid. laid. paid. locked. mail/life. on. on. on. paid. laid. paid. locked. 87776. 5

[galaxyonthestrings]

random things ive scripted to happen in my webtoon artist dr (and that you can add to your scripts too) <33

🌷. ## my fav music artists making some osts for my webtoons.

🌷. ## my webtoons getting either a drama adaptation or an animation. sometimes even a cd drama audio with voice actors i picked<33

🌷. ## scripted all kinds of merch (keychains, figurines, prints, dolls, stamps, stickers etc) and physical serializations.

🌷. ## collabs with some games! it could be some items as easter eggs or whole skins.

🌷. ## visual novels adaptations for some of them!

🌷. ## café collabs, and that kind of stuff.

🌷. ## my works or my characters being either referenced with other artists' works or cameos of my characters.

🌷. ## always having a strong buffer as to never run late for weekly apparition.

🌷. ## never getting rushed by my publishers in a way that could affect my content's quality.

🌷. ## not getting dropped suddenly because of a lack of funds or engagement or some shit like that.

🌷. ## a good relationship with my fans, my fellow writers and artists and also my manager/beta-reader & coloring assistant.

🌷. ## my own entreprise and site at one point.