#era: pleasure shop

[atlantis-area]

KEY - Pleasure Shop MV [x]

[cut-catches]

this is such a cool concept and way of expressing these thoughts and ideas around AI. kim kibum i love your mind

[bgarchivee]

key (shinee/soloist)

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

241109 KEY Ktwon4u Fansign — SHINee Group Chat

KEY: Something quite fun happened yesterday. It was Choi Minho’s first music show (perf) yesterday, as you know, so now we were talking about that in our KakaoTalk GC. All of sudden, Jinki hyungie was like: 🎵na~ nanana~ naNAna~🎵 and I said, “that’s not it, though?”so I’m like:🎵na~ nanana~ NAnana~🎵 and I asked, “isn’t this the right one?”Minho said: “Kibummie is right”. It went like that, but all of sudden, Lee Taemin was like:🎵nnnNA. na na na. na NA na.🎵 ( I can't hear well what he said here), but all of a sudden, Lee Taemin said: “hyung, go try practicing the piano version. this is absurd”. Then suddenly, Minho talked about golf, then Taemin followed with, “oh isn’t the broadcast tomorrow?” it ended like this.

Our talks about the broadcast went back and forth

trans

[procrastiel]

My observations from the Good Omens fandom:

Fanart and fics that are from the time before the TV series (1990 - 2019): Az & Co love each other deeply and there are no labels. Their love is very chaste and they usually kiss only. Ace vibes.

Fanart and fics after GO S1 (2019 - 2023): Aziraphale is a babe, a softie, and Crowley is the strong protector. The only fanart where Crowley is the one holding Aziraphale in his arms is from this time period. Fics are often explicit, but it’s very balanced between top Crowley and Top Aziraphale. There is a lot of play with different genitalia, but the main focus is still the strong, intense, unbreakable bond between the two, which defies all human relationship labels.

Fanart and fics after GO S2 (Aug. 2023 - present): Crowley is the soft, whiny baby who needs protection. Most fanart depicts Aziraphale as the strong protector and Crowley as the fragile girlfriend behind him. Crowley is very often depicted with black nail polish & long hair, more feminine character traits, unless both characters are female. Most fics are explicit, and Aziraphale is dominating Crowley, Crowley is desperately looking for approval or being a total brat and making Aziraphale’s life a living hell after the final fifteen, pouting and being angry/resentful. The main focus in the fics in now the sex and sexual pleasure. Now there is also a lot more exploration of different AUs and incarnations e.g. Crowley is very often a snake, they are drawn as robots or mouse & rat, AUs for coffee shops, gardeners, priests etc.

I am not judging this trend in any way, but I personally prefer the depictions and interpretations during the S1 era, because they feel the most true to the source material of the TV show for me. I wonder if after S3 it will diverge even further or if it will circle back.

[dresshistorynerd]

The Morrisian case against fast fashion

Today I discovered that H&M made a William Morris collection some years ago. The heath death of the universe can't come quickly enough. We can stop now. Satire is dead and we killed her.

It's not just the whole concept of H&M using William Morris' designs for their fast fashion which is insanity inducing, but also the critical response it garnered. Like sure, people did realize this is insane and there was a lot of think pieces about it at the time, but I read several of them and they all seem to still miss the point in spectacular way.

The basic premise of these think pieces go along the lines of: "Would William Morris spin in his grave with a speed of light because of the H&M collection of his designs? A difficult question indeed. William Morris was a complicated man. He wanted art to be affordable to everyone. Isn't H&M affordable? That kinda fits. Though probably he would have some concerns about H&M's practices."

On the surface - yes - but like in reality - fuck no. There's no nuance in this particular issue. He talked about many times what he though of the H&Ms of his time, the retailers selling poor quality industrially produced "fashionable" bullshit. We know exactly what he would have thought of H&M. Here's couple of quotes from his 1884 lecture "Art and Socialism", which makes it very clear.

"It would be an instructive day's work for any one of us who is strong enough to walk through two or three of the principal streets of London on a week-day, and take accurate note of everything in the shop windows which is embarrassing or superfluous to the daily life of a serious man. Nay, the most of these things no one, serious or unserious, wants at all; only a foolish habit makes even the lightest-minded of us suppose that he wants them, and to many people even of those who buy them they are obvious encumbrances to real work, thought and pleasure. But I beg you to think of the enormous mass of men who are occupied with this miserable trumpery, from the engineers who have had to make the machines for making them, down to the hapless clerks who sit day-long year after year in the horrible dens wherein the wholesale exchange of them is transacted, and the shopmen, who not daring to call their souls their own, retail them amidst numberless insults which they must not resent, to the idle public which doesn't want them but buys them to be bored by them and sick to death of them."

He is describing the birth of consumerism, which was taking form during his lifetime in the late Victorian Era, which fast fashion is the extreme logical conclusion of, and he fucking hated it. He specifically railed against endless consumerist products, which H&M is the perfect representation of. It was definitely not the art and beauty he believed everyone required and deserved. He makes the distinction often.

"Now if we are to have popular Art, or indeed Art of any kind, we must at once and for all be done with this luxury; it is the supplanter, the changeling of Art; so much so that by those who know of nothing better it has even been taken for Art, the divine solace of human labour, the romance of each day's hard practice of the difficult art of living."

"And here furthermore is at least a little sign whereby to distinguish between a rag of fashion and a work of Art: whereas the toys of fashion when the first gloss is worn off them do become obviously worthless even to the frivolous—a work of Art, be it ever so humble, is long lived; we never tire of it; as long as a scrap hangs together it is valuable and instructive to each new generation. All works of Art in short have the property of becoming venerable amidst decay: and reason good, for from the first there was a soul in them, the thought of man, which will be visible in them so long as the body exists in which they were implanted."

When he thought of popular Art he thought of the craftsmanship of the common people. The art people have made from useful everyday objects with skillful handicrafts. This is what he means by "divine solace of human labour". It's not reverence of Puritanical work ethic, on the contrary, it's the reverence of creation, of the earnest joy people feel when they get to express themselves through their creative pursuits. He certainly didn't believe in work for work's sake, work needed to be worthwhile and enjoyable. He summarized his own position on what labour should be thusly:

"It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should he done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious."

He urged his middle class audience to reject consumerism (the lecture was for a very much middle class atheist society):

"For I say again that in buying these things: 'Tis the lives of men you buy! Will you from mere folly and thoughtlessness make yourselves partakers of the guilt of those who compel their fellow men to labour uselessly?"

I think it's glaringly obvious H&M and fast fashion in general is what he would consider luxury. Rags of fashion that are just churned out and discarded without thought and produced by compelling people to labour uselessly. It's not popular art that's made by workers and craftsmen, who are able to express themselves through it. There's no agency for the abused workers in H&M's sweatshops, they are not expressing their joy of creation, they are simply labouring uselessly.

Morris didn't shame workers for buying affortable things even if they weren't Art with big A, because that's the problem he despised the whole economic system for, for taking away the popular Art from people, making it inaccessible, and selling back mass produced products with very little practical or aesthetic value. So I don't think he would have problem with people who can only afford fast fashion today. They are the victims of capitalism too, because Art has been taken away from them. But the idea that some of these think pieces had that perhaps the H&M's Morris collection can be good actually if you squint, that H&M has the capacity to bring the art and beauty Morris advocated for for the people, is level of stupidity that's hard to express in words.

Morris didn't believe anything made with exploited labour could be truly beautiful, truly art. In his 1879 lecture "The Art of the People" he put it like this:

"That thing which I understand by real art is the expression by man of his pleasure in labour."

The way I understand this, is that art is communication. Through it we communicate feelings, ideas and thoughts, that is it's purpose. So for that communication to work, for it to be imbued with message, the person making it needs to feel passion and love for it's creation. How can there be love and passion if the hands making the garment belong to a tired exploited worker who has no agency what so ever in their work and can only think about survival to the next day?

Beyond the fundamental exploitativeness of H&M and fast fashion, this collection would still get zero points on aesthetic values from Morris even with his own designs. Because the work itself was such an important part of art for Morris, good design was nothing without good craftsmanship. Good design in his mind was always relative and dependent on it's purpose.

"For everything made by man’s hands has a form, which must be either beautiful or ugly; beautiful if it is in accord with Nature, and helps her; ugly if it is discordant with Nature, and thwarts her; it cannot be indifferent." (The Lesser Arts, 1877)

Here when he says nature, he means the nature of the thing that is made - basically it's purpose and function - and the nature of the materials it's made from. Basically, the design must always be made to bring out the function of the art and the qualities of the material it's made from, not fight against them. This is because he believed handicrafts were uniquely suitable for expressing the love of creation, therefore superior labour, and to really bring out the qualities of the craftsmanship and enjoy the creative process, the design should be suitable for that craft. The other side, which was the joy of using and experiencing art, required the craft to be selected for the suitable purpose. Using poorly functioning furniture for example is not very enjoyable, nor is using clothing that's made from materials that are not suitable for the climactic conditions it's supposed to be used in.

H&M of course utterly fails in this. They use Morris' designs in fully unsuitable ways. They print patterns made for example for wall papers on poor quality fabrics with synthetics dyes they weren't made for. This line from one blog post I came across really got me: "Therefore, without cheapening the artistic value of Morris’ designs, H&M’s collection offers an unparalleled potential for accessibility to them." No. Fuck no. They do in fact cheapen Morris' designs in every single way possible. Literally this is atrocious.

Despite the popular depiction, Morris wasn't in fact against industrial machinery or industrial art even, or at least he wasn't once his views on art and politics matured. He did think technology was useful, but he thought the people should use industrial methods for the benefit of all, not be enslaved by the industrial machine.

"I have spoken of machinery being used freely for releasing people from the more mechanical and repulsive part of necessary labour; and I know that to some cultivated people, people of the artistic turn of mind, machinery is particularly distasteful, and they will be apt to say you will never get your surroundings pleasant so long as you are surrounded by machinery. I don't quite admit that; it is the allowing machines to be our masters and not our servants that so injures the beauty of life nowadays. In other words, it is the token of the terrible crime we have fallen into of using our control of the powers of Nature for the purpose of enslaving people, we care less meantime of how much happiness we rob their lives of." ("How we live and how we might live", 1887)

However, he thought that the designer should approach it the way they approached any craft, by designing for the strengths of the machine work.

"But if you have to design for machine-work, at least let your design show clearly what it is. Make it mechanical with a vengeance, at the same time as simple at possible. Don't try, for instance, to make a printed plate look like a hand-painted one: make it something which no one would try to do if he were painting by hand..." ("Art and the Beauty of the Earth", 1881)

He did use some machinery for fabric and wall paper printing, but he was very intentional about their use. Still his designs weren't made for the type of methods these modern H&M machinery uses and he did for example use natural dyes. Particularly insulting is that some of the H&M clothes are made from viscose, rayon made with viscose method. Viscose method is extremely toxic and is known to cause long term health consequences for the workers and the people in surrounding areas. This has been well proven knowledge for ages. William Morris' wall paper factory in the beginning used the typical method used at the time which involved arsenic, but once he learned this could pose risks for the workers, he changed the method. Many of the new synthetic dyes were toxic at the time, which is the major reason he so favoured natural dyes, known to not cause health issues for workers or pollute the environment.

The question many of these think pieces about the H&M Morris collection posed was, would Morris disapprove and should we care? The first part of that is very easy to answer. Yes. Of course Morris would disapprove. He is currently powering the whole of British Isles with purely the kinetic energy his grave-spinning produces. Should we care though? If you care about Morris' art, if you want to see more of that kind of art in this world, you should care. Morris' art is not about the superficial qualities. Copying his designs and aesthetics and styles, will only lead to hollow imitations, that are exactly what he described the rags of fashion to be; as the shininess of novelty wears off they will reveal themselves to be soulless, useless and utterly empty. This collection is just that. To see more of the kind of art that makes you feel like his art makes you feel, not just something that reminds you of that feeling, you should focus more on the way the art is made and less on the specific aesthetics. If his vision of labour and art was realised, all art produced of course wouldn't be loved by every person, but all of it would be loved by someone, even if that someone was just the maker. And that would be more worthwhile than every single rag of fast fashion.

I will stop William-Morris-posting now and return to my thesis.

The full texts I quoted here:

Art and Socialism The Art of the People The Lesser Arts How We Live and How We Might Live Art and the Beauty of the Earth

[rebelfell]

✦ Stranger Things Masterlist ✦

My works feature a female reader with limited physical descriptors. Just by virtue of being written by me, they will likely be shy/inexperienced ‘cos I write what I know, y’know? There are individual warnings on each. If you do come across something you think needs a warning, please let me know (gently, I am but a fragile soufflé ready to sink)

🌶️ is marked with a*

Everything is 18+ MDNI for your sake and mine

The Third Date┃Part One┃Part Two~

eddie munson x anorgasmic!reader - 14k

Surrender┃Part One ┃Part Two*┃Part Three*

eddie munson x bi!reader x lesbian!chrissy cunningham - 18k

Bells Will Be Ringing┃Part One*┃Part Two*

crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson - 8k

Hold Your Peace in Pieces┃TBD

engaged!rockstar!eddie munson x reader -

this summer is the apocalypse, pt II, pt III*, pt IV*, eddie’s interlude, part V, epilogue~, epilogue II~

Thinking thoughts on eddie and an older!Harrington!reader (aka: stevie’s aunt has got it goin’ on)

for your viewing pleasure~

a series of drips and drabbles featuring pornstar!eddie

under the influence

an edible loosens your lips in front of your frenemy, eddie

game night* (surrender universe)

chrissy and eddie get extra competitive, you benefit

made for lovin’ you*

softdom!eddie makes a bad tinder date a whole lot better

special delivery*

someone unexpected shows up to deliver your pizza

in the middle of the night*

boyfriend!steve helps to soothe what ails us🩸

buzzcut season, rockstar!eddie free write

dmm, i’m just embracing my shaved-head era

haven’t had any complaints yet*

the trials and tribulations of giving van head over forty

cold dry stone*

revenge f!cking with gator 🐊

that Vanity Fair party was a lot*

actor!steve x assistant!reader x rockstar!eddie

are you even listening to me?, cont’d~, preq

bestfriend!eddie gets distracted by your…assets.

I didn’t know you were into that…

you’ve been watching too many ghostface tiktoks 🔪

working on my fitness, pt II

a gym meet cute w/ modern!eddie (neighbors AU)

modern!wealthy!Steve? How’d you get in here?

steve spoils his girl in the midst of a hangover

wait, are you a…have you never?*

bigdick!steve x virgin!reader

felt in need of some affection…

sweet!soft!eddie vignette

possessive.┃eddie shows you who you belong to

multiples.┃eddie wants you to arrive properly

urgent.┃eddie can do better than he can

hesitant.┃eddie and you try something new

so wrong, it’s right┃so right, it’s wrong 🎃

eddie munson x his best friend’s (ex?) girl

you’ve never seen gremlins? 🎃

it’s scary movie night at eddie’s house

you’re a what? (WCIL-verse) 🎃

modern!eddie bumps into you at a halloween party

how much of that can is left? 🦃

you + eddie + whipped topping

today is a no bones day 🦃

you and eddie in recovery mode

#index landing pages for long form/multi-part blurbs & fics

#free write bursts of writing based on images/other posts

#my moods fic/character moodboards, (aka I spent too much time spent daydreaming on pinterest again)

#thrift shop eddie short blurbs about all the odd and random gifts I would terrorize shower Eddie with if given the chance

© 2024 rebelfell All Rights Reserved. Any written work on this blog is my own and I do not consent for it to be copied, altered or re-posted in any form or to be fed into AI software.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [38] - Gladiolus

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Strength builds in time.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of threat.

Word Count: 3100

Series Masterlist

Alright then.

Perhaps you owed Benedict an apology.

Ever since you had walked in on him and Madame Delacroix right after their escapade at her shop, you hadn’t stopped reminding him of his very frequent adventures with different ladies in the ton but in your defense, you had no idea the act was this…

Pleasurable.

Divine, even.

Yet, it raised one simple issue; the marriage bliss kept you too busy to pay attention to anything else. Honestly it didn’t feel like an issue at all to you -or to Benedict you were guessing- but you had lost the complete track of time in the last couple of days and you had to force yourself to think straight.

You put your shift on and walked to grab your dressing gown, your body aching in the most pleasant way and you bit down a smile as the memory of last night flashed through your mind, but then heard Benedict taking a deep breath, rising from his deep slumber.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep and you looked over your shoulder, the sight making your heart skip a beat. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his hair all messy while he ran a hand over his glimmering blue eyes, the sunlight falling on his chiseled chest. You could feel the familiar desire sending sparks through your system but forced yourself to focus, shaking your head slightly.

“Good morning,” you said, dragging your gaze away from him to look around the room for the items of clothing of yours that Benedict had thrown around the room in his haste to get you out of them. “Did I wake you up?”

“No—what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

His head shot up. “What?”

“For the day!” you added quickly and grabbed your corset off the floor. “I’m leaving for the day.”

“Why?”

“Benedict,” you said and motioned between you. “Perhaps it has escaped your notice but we have a problem.”

He tilted his head, confusion etched in his features. “A problem?” he repeated. “What problem?”

You tried to concentrate but it was rather hard when that fire was swirling in your lower stomach, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to climb back in the bed and—

You cleared your throat, looking up at the ceiling, causing Benedict to look up as well.

“What’s happening?”

“If I look at you I’m going to get back in the bed so I refuse to.”

“How is that a bad thing?” he asked with a grin and you shot him a glance, then looked up at the ceiling again.

“You know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we have a lovely ceiling.”

“My love, what are you talking about?”

You felt a smile warm your face, then grabbed your dress off the floor as well before turning to him, heaving a sigh.

“First of all, you were right about it being…divine,” you said, then narrowed your eyes. “Wipe that smile off your face.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender and you put your clothes on the sofa.

“That being said, do you not think we’re being a bit…fixated?”

“Fixated?”

“When was the last time you painted?”

“A week ago.”

“When was the last time you and I actually communicated with another person more than an hour without rushing to the nearest room?”

“There was the gala—”

“Gordon’s guest room.”

He hissed in a breath. “Right. Good point.”

“And I have a greenhouse,” you told him, putting your hands on your hips. “Ask me when the last time I’ve been there was.”

“…A week ago?”

“A week ago!”

“I mean Mr. Binsted is taking care of—”

Even you could hear the petulant tone in your voice; “It doesn’t matter, it’s my greenhouse!”

“Darling it’s not like it’s going anywhere—”

“Listen,” you cut him off. “I have a greenhouse with very rare plants. And flowers.”

“Mm hm.”

“Not to mention, I have the rarest flower in the world, in the aforementioned greenhouse.”

“I heard a thing or two about that, yeah.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re the love of my life,” you said, making a smile curl his lips, that softness apparent in his gaze again while you pointed at the window, stomping on your foot. “But my greenhouse!”

“Right.”

“It has my favorite flower in there!”

“Hasn’t escaped my notice my love,” he said with a grin, almost humoring you and you nodded your head.

“So that’s what we’re doing today—no, don’t get out of the bed until I’m away,” you stopped him as he swung his legs over the bed and you looked up at the ceiling. “Wait until I leave.”

“Why?”

“Because neither of us can be trusted,” you stated. “So we’re not to cross paths today.”

“The whole day?!” Benedict asked in shock and you flailed your arms.

“To repeat, we cannot be trusted apparently!” you said. “You—you take the studio side of the house and I’ll be in the greenhouse and we are going to be…calm.”

“Calm?”

“Yes, calm,” you said and heaved a deep sigh and turned your gaze to him again. “It’s alright. We can do this, I have faith in us.”

“I don’t.”

“Ben!”

“Shall I lie to you?” he asked with a small laugh and you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes again.

“I’m leaving,” you said. “See you tonight at the ball, not one second before.”

“Darling to repeat, we live in the same house—”

“We’ll meet there!” you said. “I mean it.”

“We’re going in different carriages?”

“Do you not remember what happened the last time we were in the same carriage?”

He gave you that lopsided grin you loved so much, making your stomach do a happy flip.

“Oh trust me, I do remember,” he said and you felt your cheeks burn, then you shook your head slightly and grabbed your clothes off the sofa.

“I’ll see you at the ball,” you said and walked through the door connecting his room to yours, painfully aware of the smile on your face.

                                             *

It was as if you were in a happy dream and if that was the case, you never wanted to wake up. You were sure that it had been hours since you stepped foot into the greenhouse based on the sun, but you could swear it had only been minutes. It wasn’t until you heard a knock on the door that you snapped out of your haze and looked over your shoulder, your hands still in the pot.

“Josie?”

“Wow,” she said, looking around. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head and pulled your hands out of the pot to take off your gloves. “Welcome.”

“I mean you mentioned it the other day and I figured…” she said, motioning around. “This is impressive.”

“Look!” you turned around to grab the pot you had been working on and held it up, a bright smile on your face. “It’s a Queen of the Night Tulip!”

“Pretty.”

“And the one to your right is a Ghost Orchid, and—that’s Middlemist Red! My favorite!”

She forced a smile.

“You’re never leaving this place, are you?”

“Never,” you said with a laugh and walked to the next pot, which was a gladiolus flower. Josie took a deep breath.

“So,” she said. “She came to see me.”

“Hm?” you asked, looking at her again. “Who?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“Mother,” she said. “Mother came to see me. Are you alright?”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach, your happy mood getting dim like a sudden shadow on a sunny day but you pressed your lips together.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sorry I was just distracted. But none of us told them you were here, how did she…?”

“Must have heard from someone in the ton.”

“What did she say?”

“She uh… remember how she found those letters between me and Bess?”

“And threw them in the fire before father—” a bitter taste appeared in your mouth as you tried to shake off the memory. “Yes?”

“Well as it turns out she didn’t throw all of them in the fire,” she said. “There is one left, and she is threatening to show it to not only uncle but also the whole ton unless I give them money.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back to the shelf.

“God damn it,” you muttered. “So not only are they using Teddy as a leverage for more money from uncle, they’re also—”

“Using Bess and Andrew,” she finished your sentence for you. “Yes. I don’t care what happens to me if the ton hears, but I can’t see them get hurt Y/N.”

You nodded your head.

“Of course not,” you said, running a hand over your eyes. “No that’s—that’s not going to happen. Did you tell them?”

“They were outside when mother decided to pay the visit,” she said. “I’ll tell them when I get home. I just wanted you to know before anyone else, just in case.”

You heaved a sigh, then walked to pull her into a hug.

“Josie…”

“I’m fine,” she said almost mechanically even though she wrapped her arms around you to hold you tight. “You know me, I can handle mother and father.”

You bit inside your cheek and pulled back to look at her better, holding her hand to squeeze it in an assuring manner.

“I know,” you said, remembering how relieved you felt when Benedict told you the same thing. “But you don’t have to handle them alone.”

She tried to smile and took a shaky breath, then looked around.

“Well alright then,” she said. “Go ahead, tell me all about these flowers.”

                                                *

By the time Josie left it was near evening, and though you had told Benedict you would be taking separate carriages, you were so desperate to talk to him that you had ended up changing your mind. He looked quite surprised to see you waiting for him by the carriage but he knew something was troubling you with one look at your face.

So you had spent the entire road to the ball telling him about what happened.

“Letters?” he asked as he helped you out of the carriage when it stopped in front of the Elwick house. You took his hand and stepped out, then placed your hand on his arm while you walked towards the house.

“Letters,” you said. “Josie eloped very soon after that because—well, you can imagine how mother and father reacted.”

Benedict clenched his jaw. “Unbelievable,” he said. “You know, I was thinking I should talk to your father again and this just proves I must.”

“The last time you talked, you punched him.”

“I don’t have any regrets over that.”

“Neither do I, I’m glad you did,” you said. “That being said, I’m not putting your wellbeing over him getting what he deserves, so no.”

You both entered the house and passed through the foyer, the music getting louder and louder as you approached the ballroom.

“Y/N—”

“No way,” you insisted. “I get that you’re angry at them, and trust me I’m angry as well. Me and Josie, but I told you before. My father is not worth your attention, let alone your fury.”

He reached to hold your hand, running his thumb over your skin as if trying to assure you and you offered him a small smile.

“I’m alright.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?”

You heaved a sigh and shrugged your shoulders, catching the sight of Andrew out of the corner of your eye, Benedict following your gaze.

“Did she tell him?”

“She said she would—I just didn’t think mother would actually go to Josie’s house,” you said. “My parents didn’t even know she was back in the country, so to come up with that plan as soon as they found out she’s here… I knew they were evil, I just didn’t think they’d be that fast.”

Benedict’s head snapped up.

“Wait,” he said. “They didn’t know she was here?”

“No,” you said. “The last they heard, Josie was going to Spain with Andrew and Bess so I figure they still thought she was there. Even I didn’t know she was coming back until she arrived here, there is no way they had an inkling.”

Benedict’s brows furrowed as if he was in deep thought, then he raised your hand to press a kiss on it.

“Just give me one moment my love, I will be back,” he said and strode to Andrew, muttering something to him before Andrew nodded and they both walked away. You frowned in confusion but then someone touched your arm, making you turn to them.

“Lottie!”

“Oh thank God you’re here, you’re going to save me,” Lottie said, linking her arm with yours and pulling you to the foyer, making you let out a small laugh.

“What? What is happening?”

“Tony hasn’t arrived yet and everyone is asking me a lot of questions about the wedding that I don’t even know the answers to,” she said as you followed her through the foyer. “And my mama has been taken hostage by other mamas who want to be invited to the engagement ball that I haven’t even planned yet it seems, so you’re to be my savior. We’re going to the backyard.”

You repressed a laugh. “There might be people there as well, you know.”

“Fewer people who will not be as enthusiastic to ask me questions, I’m hoping.”

You hummed as you both stepped out of the house to the backyard. “If someone does approach, do you want me to threaten them?”

“Goodness no!” she said. “That would be very rude!”

“What if they are approaching you to ask you questions about the engagement ball you haven’t planned yet?”

She thought for a moment, her lips pulling into a pout as if she was torn between decisions.

“Don’t threaten them verbally, just glare at them please?”

“Understood.”

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m the happiest lady in the entire world but—” she huffed as you two sat down on a bench. “Everyone has something to ask and nobody leaves us alone anymore Y/N! With Tony, it’s as if everyone swore to…”

“Interrupt you?” you said with a grin and she looked abashed for a moment.

“…Yes.”

“So I’m guessing no other scandalous behavior has taken place?”

“Y/N!”

“Just a question,” you teased her and she heaved a tormented sigh.

“If only,” she sulked. “Everyone seems to watch us closer now that we’re engaged.”

“Tell Anthony patience is a virtue,” you said, trying to stop the smirk on your face and she nodded.

“I have.”

You let out a small laugh. “Lottie, you’re too sweet.”

“Thank you—how about you and Benny?” she asked and you blinked a couple of times, clearing your throat.

“Hm?”

“I mean no one has seen you on a social outing of the ton for almost a week,” she said. “Everyone has a lot of ideas about the reason.”

“Such as?”

“You’d tell me if you were with child, would you not?”

Your eyes widened, your breath getting caught in your throat.

“What?!” you asked. “No—I mean yes I would tell you but no Lottie, that’s not what is happening!”

“Good,” she said. “Because you see, I have many things I wish to shop for before your baby gets here—”

“That baby is nonexistent as we speak, Lottie.”

“And I’d like a pre-warning,” she said like she wasn’t listening and you scoffed.

“So that’s what the ton thinks?”

“Some of them,” she said. “Why haven’t you been attending outings then?”

You shifted your weight, trying to come up with an excuse but thankfully you saw Benedict approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh look, Benedict is here!” you said, motioning at him and he gave you a smile.

“Charlie.”

“Benny, hello!”

“Anthony just arrived, he was looking for you,” Benedict said, pointing back at the house with his thumb and Lottie let out a breath.

“Oh thank God,” she said, standing up. “Benny, have you seen anyone asking him questions about our engagement ball?”

Benedict made a face. “Please stop reminding me you’re engaged to my brother, I’m still not completely alright with that idea.”

You raised your brows and Lottie rolled her eyes.

“You do realize that you will be the best man, do you not?” she asked as if teasing him, making him let out a whine.

“Charlie!”

“I’ll see you inside Y/N.”

“See you inside,” you said with a laugh and watched her walk away. Benedict heaved a sigh and sat beside you.

“So they’re actually going to get married then?”

“Seems like it,” you said, patting him on the arm as if trying to assure him. “Will you be alright?”

“Ask me again later,” Benedict said and stole a look at you. “How about you?”

“I’m alright with them getting married, I don’t know why you’re making it such a big issue—”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said and you paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m fine, I just…” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s rather surprising but it shouldn’t be. It’s just that, I’ve been so happy lately that I almost forgot they were here to cause trouble, does that make sense?”

“It absolutely does,” he said with that soft light in his eyes. “But it is going to be alright, I promise you.”

“What did you and Andrew talk about?” you asked, gazing up at him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing important, I just asked about your parents.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Benedict.”

“Yes my love?”

“That will not distract me,” you pointed at him while trying very hard to not let it distract you, making him chuckle.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you. “I’m not putting myself or anyone you care about in danger, I swear to you.”

You pursed your lips, then heaved a sigh and turned a little to face the backyard, putting your head on his shoulder. He entwined his fingers with yours, pressing a kiss on top of your head before burying his nose into your hair.

“Let’s stay here for a while?” you asked. “I like being alone with you even when we’re not…you know.”

A small laugh vibrated his chest. “Same here darling.”

You heaved a sigh, then frowned when the thought hit you. “But we’re still going to—”

“Way ahead of you, they have a library on the other side of the house.”

“Good,” you said, a small smirk curling your lips as you stole a look at him. “I happen to be an admirer of books.”

Chapter 39

[doodleswithangie]

VOL 1: Loving You Brings Only Heartaches by @seven-stars-in-his-palm

It's been 62 years since Aziraphale and Crowley's disagreement in St James' Park, and the world has entered a new era of flapper girls and arbitrary Prohibitions. After attempting to finally get in contact with the angel again, Crowley finds out Aziraphale has been accused of murdering Mr Howard, Soho staple and owner of the Harmony Emporium a few doors down...in his very own bookshop. It's up to Aziraphale and Crowley to solve this mystery, or else they might be next.

For this year’s GOMM Reverse Bang run by @go-minisode-minibang! I had the pleasure of working with two amazing writers, so presenting the first of two! August wrote an incredible high stakes mystery that’ll keep you guessing until the end. Read it here!

[Image Description: Mock book cover and page for a “Good Omens” fanfiction set in the 1920s. Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID]

Copied Alt Text

Image One:

Book cover featuring female-presenting Aziraphale and Crowley in 1920s fashion. Aziraphale peers through a magnifying glass, wearing a yellow and white blazer and skirt set trimmed in plaid and matching brown hat, gloves, and bow tie. Behind her, Crowley wears a white embroidered frock and sunhat with a black velvet overskirt and faux fur-lined cape.

The cover text reads: “A.Z. FELL AND Co. Loving You Brings Only Heartaches. Written by Gravitron. Illustrated by Doodles With Angie.”

Image two:

Book page with illustration and text. Both male-presenting, a wild-eyed Aziraphale is drenched in blood and wields a knife, while Crowley frantically interrogates him.

The excerpt reads:

“Why?” is what spills out of Crowley’s mouth before all else, having to shout it to be heard over the roar of the chaos. “I don’t—it’s only been sixty years, sixty years, and you’ve already—how—?”

“My own shop!”

Crowley blanches. “Eh?!”

Aziraphale’s eyes are blown open in terror, the shoulder under Crowley’s hand shaking like mad. He attempts to shove past the demon, but he remains firm in putting himself between the two. “They had–had to kill him in my own shop! Now everyone is—goodness, they must already think—” He drops the blade in his fist in horror, the imprint of blood deep under his well-manicured nails. “Never would I—oh, it doesn’t even matter, this is going to be terribly inconvenient…”

End Copied Alt Text

[atlantis-area]

KEY for VOGUE KOREA, 2024

[railingsofsorrow]

hiiiiii!!!! i saw your requests were open and i’m so excited i love your writing so much!! i was wondering if you would be willing to do a coffee shop au of spencer x barista!reader? i feel like it would be very fluffy :) <3

a healthy caffeine addiction

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer finds a new coffee shop near work and he may be going there not just for the coffee...

pairing: s.reid x gn!barista!reader

w.c: 3K

warnings/content: a lot of flirting; mentions of case related stuff but you blink and you miss it; fluff fluff!! (you asked for it); swearing.

A/N: hi! I used gender neutral pronouns because you didn't specify so I thought it would fit best. the coffee shop is called “enchanted brewing” just do you don't get confused. one more thing! I mixed two of his best eras, glasses + long hair just because I was feeling a little silly. thank you for the request <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, look, it's boy genius again.” You muse upon seeing a certain long-haired FBI agent next on the line. He's wearing a purple tie today which checks out your theory that it's his favorite color because he's always wearing something purple. It would be funny if it was an unconscious choice. “What's your order today, Dr. Reid? Maybe some coffee with your sugar?” You ask as if you hadn't seen him earlier in the day and had repeated the same thing.

You've met Spencer Reid when he walked in one day as the coffee shop you work in was still closed. He hadn't seen the closed sign. After spending five minutes straight apologizing, you delivered him his coffee order promising he wasn't bothering you. Especially if he was a cute guy with glasses. But you didn't say that last thing out loud, of course.

He's been coming to Enchanted Brewing for two weeks now. You have his order memorized from each early morning that he strides in through the entrance, his satchel hanging from his right shoulder as his bright honey-brown eyes scan through the menu on the wall. He always did that in spite of ordering the same thing from the first day.

Your timeline is slightly offbeat today. Your favorite costumer usually comes in on his way to work, once a day. Except that today he showed up twice. You're not complaining, you're currently trying to hide how happy you are that he appeared right on time for your lunch break.

“I want something different,” he says, adjusting his glasses as he looks at you with a timid smile. “Surprise me?”

“Oh.” You quickly recovered — did you? — from the spell he had you in and moved to prepare his drink. “I'll definitely surprise you, boy genius.” You already had one in mind. Your boss shots you a glare from the other side of the counter where he's delivering an order for a regular. He had reminded you of your lunch break an hour ago but you ended up attending clients and time passed by. You mouthed that it was your last one before lunch and he rolled his eyes with a knowing smile.

You take Spencer to a table outside. The day was good enough to not worry about a storm interrupting your afternoon coffee. Not yet, at least.

“So.” You utter after taking a bite of your sandwich. Spencer is sipping on the surprise he asked for and you are no profiler but your guess is that he liked it. “Aproved?”

“One hundred percent approved. What is this?” He makes a sound of satisfaction as he drinks it again. A smug grin reaches your face. “It's so good.”

You hum, “It is. From how much you like your sweets, I thought you'd like this one. Though, it barely tastes like coffee.”

Spencer silently agrees with you. “What's it called? I can taste caramel.”

“It's a caramel macchiato,” you reply, sipping your watermelon juice. “Caramel is all you can taste, boy genius.” You laugh at the way his cheeks turn pink at your nickname. Ever since he told you about his PhD's and his age. “To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you twice in a day?”

He takes his time putting the cup on the table, fingertips grazing the sides in half circles. When he meet your gaze, you were already staring, but you have the decency to look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Thank god you were done eating or else you'd be blushing and attempting to swallow your food. Not a good view.

“Um, I... I didn't have a case today and I finished paperwork early so I thought I'd come, um.” He stammers, straightening his posture and exhaling. The middle of his forehead creased a bit and you find it incredibly endearing seeing him trying to figure out the words.

“...you were craving caffeine so you came to the best place near your work?” you complete his sentence with a playfully smirk dancing across your lips.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaims, clearing his throat realising his voice had failed. He offers you a sheepish smile, to which you respond with a grin of your own. “Yes, and... well.”

“It's okay,” you tap your fingers against the hard wood. “You can admit that I make the best coffee.” The convinced stance you had made him chuckle, eyes traveling over your frame discreetly. He could only hope he was being discreet.

“I wanted to see you.” He admits. “And for the coffee, of course.”

Sometimes you had the impression that he did know the effect he had on you, either that or he just didn't want to see it.

“Of course.” You nod as if it was obvious. “Sure.” He wanted to see me? Me?

He pulls his glasses up again, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. He was about to say something when he jumped on his seat, groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to go,” he says, disappointment lacing through his tone. You brush off his apologetic expression.

“That's completely understandable. Duty calls.” Both of you stand up. You still had half an hour left of your lunch, you guess you would have to resort to play your mobile game instead of flirting with a handsome FBI agent. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Hopefully,” Spencer picks up his work bag and the coffee cup you thought he had already finished. The corners of his lips raise a bit when he catches the boy genius written in a messy handwriting on the cup. “It's not a local case...”

“Oh,” you try to hide your lack of joy. “Alright. Be careful then.” Spencer nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “And don't betray me for another barista, boy genius.” That got you one of his short laughs that made his eyes crinkle in the edges.

“Never.”

──────────────

Spencer was back three days later. The case was a hard one, one of those were the unsub decided to not make their lives easier and kept moving across state lines to hide. He was keeping a victim hostage in the trunk of his car and thankfully, they were able to save her in time. Everybody was granted a day-off to get some rest.

It's not like Spencer was married to his work, in fact, he could enjoy a little alone time in the comfort of his home with a book and some coffee to accompany his quiet reading.

But that's the problem.

Routines are hard to create and they are hard to let go of. Ever heard the saying “old habits die hard”?

Ivan Pavlov researched about classical conditioning. According to him, you have a stimulus and a response in a given situation. It is likely that you'll keep repeating an action if it proves to be beneficial to you. If you like doing it, you'll barely notice it became an habit.

He's been visiting your coffee shop almost every day for the past weeks and that is an habit he's gotten quite comfortable with.

Therefore, in order to not disturb his routine that is very very important to him — honestly? Spencer can't handle changes — he drives down to Enchanted Brewing. The soft jingle of the bell alerted of his entrance.

Spencer gets in line. There's seven people in front of him, maybe because it's lunch hour and all of them are rushing to get their orders. Spencer waits. He still hasn't heard any flirting remarks or winks sent his way and he's not sure if you are not behind the counter today or if his lenses are just really blurried that he can't see your pretty face.

“Afternoon, sir. What would you like to order today?”

You are definitely not behind the counter and he's slightly confused before listing off his order. The clerk notes it down, then he stops midway, studying Spencer with narrowed eyes.

“You're boy genius?”

Spencer blinks, startled. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish and really, what is that question? How is he even supposed to answer that? You call him that, so is that a yes? Is he supposed to say yes—

“Sorry,” the guy says, shaking his head with a laugh, “they told me about you.”

“Oh.” Spencer doesn't know what to say, thankfully, he doesn't have to because he carries on.

“You two have kind of a system going on, right?”

“A- a system?”

The clerk's polite smile widened into a smirk. “Well, yes.” He says slowly. “You order the same thing and they make you an entire difference drink, isn't that it? They explained it and that's how I got it.”

“Uh, yes. I think so. But you don't have to—”

Your coworker waves him off, “I was just making sure you were the guy, really. They left a special order for you in case you appeared while they were still sick.” Spencer's concern is visible through his face. “Sore throat, I asked them to stay at home this week. You know, they don't care about day-offs so I forced it upon them to have it either way since they're sick. Really stubborn, that one. I'm Tim, by the way."

“Spencer.” He gave a little wave while introducing himself and was quick to add. “Are they okay?”

Tim turned to look at him in the middle of the beverage making. He nodded. “Yes, they'll be back in a day or two. Nothing serious.”

Spencer lets out a sigh in relief, leaning against the counter to wait for this order to be ready. He hopes you get better soon and that you were taking proper care of yourself. If he knew, he would have brought some jell-o and mint tea, they are great remedies to soothe a sore throat. After he paid for his surprise drink, he sat down on a table outside, there wasn't a lot of people and he enjoyed his alone time while mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Maybe if he had gotten your number, he could ask how you were. But he didn't because Spencer doesn't think. He doesn't have game as Derek says, whatever that means. It's not his fault that he can't think straight around pretty people, is it? He can't help it!

He left the café that day with another great drink to add to his list and his mind set on one thing: he's going to ask for your phone number next time he sees you.

──────────────

Every person in the whole freaking world decided to appear at Enchanted Brewing today. Nothing wrong with people. You love people, really!

But your back is aching and your hand is cramping from how much you used the hand mixer. God, you needed to lay down for a month and wake up maybe never.

A costumer just left and you finally turn the sign to closed. Thank god. You're finishing cleaning up the tables when you notice the silence. Being around people all day long can be a little exhausting, especially if you have to yell a name in order for someone to pick their order. Your recently recovered sore throat does not appreciate that.

You're alone tonight. Tim left early to run some errands and you're in charge of closing. You don't mind, it's actually peaceful to close the shop and make your way home. You don't live far and the streets aren't too busy nor totally empty.

Boy genius didn't show up again.

You know his job is demanding, he's occupied being a hero and using his brain to solve difficult cases and catch bad guys. You feel bad complaining about your work, knowing what he does. He must get exhausted daily.

You miss him. And it's weird, you're not one to get attached easily. To be able to call Tim your friend took about half a year, you just don't trust people fast. Spencer just feels different. He makes you feel comfortable, despite not having the experience of hanging out with him outside of your work, he's that kind of person that has a safe ambience all over him. You could be wrong, you're aware of that, you don't really know the guy. He's a regular, he loves your surprise coffees, he's got a cute smile and an awkwardness that is endearing. You don't know more than that, but you'd really like to.

After placing your uniform in your assigned locker, you check one more time to see if everything is in place before leaving.

The doorbell scares the shit out of you and you grab the first thing you see to defend yourself, which is your phone.

It's closed. You turned the sign. The lights are off. Who the fuck is entering a coffee shop when all of the lights are off?!

“Uh, what... Why are you threatening to throw your phone at me?”

And there it is, the man you cannot stop thinking about materialising in front of you. Not a burglar.

Your shoulders slump in relief and you lower your phone back to the counter. “Fuck, genius. Don't do that. Why do you always ignore the closed sign?”

“Sorry,” he responded, bashfully, realising how the situation came out. “I saw you were inside and I just came in, didn't thought it through.”

“Mm. You scared the shit out of me.” A soft smile formed on your lips and it soon became a wide grin. “God, you're so...”

“Annoying?” he offers, grimacing as he buries his hand on his overcoat. Both his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, reminding you of how cold it is outside. “Sorry, I'll just— I'll leave you be.” The regret on his features is what puts you out of your dazed stare.

You sprint over to the door, blocking his exit. “I didn't say that.” You let out with bated breath. He halts right in front of you, big doe eyes staring down at you in surprise and you're beaming at him again. “You could never be annoying, boy genius. I was about to say amazing, actually.”

Morgan and Penelope are two people that keep making his life miserable by the amount of nicknames they make up for him. But this one? This one he doesn't complain at all. Boy genius. You could call him that every day and he would never dare be annoyed by it. The reason is because he loves your voice — which he realised it's a bit hoarse right now — but that's besides the point.

That is a nickname he missed dearly.

Were they about to call me amazing?

“I have a confession to make.” Emily is one hundred percent right when she said his IQ is slashed to 60 while around pretty people, because now that he's seen you he can't seem to remember what he came here for. “I betrayed you.”

You raise a brow, surveying him with amusement. “Oh?”

“Yes. I, I ordered a caramel macchiato on a cafeteria in Fairbanks.” He elaborated, lifting his hand to brush his hair behind his ear. You wanted to find out if it was as soft as it looked. “It wasn't good. I don't know, it wasn't the way you made so I didn't— I didn't though it was good.”

Your chest swells for a reason you're not sure.

“What I'm trying to say is that... Your coffee is better. No. It's not actually that—”

“Breathe. You're turning red like a tomato.”

That made him impossibly redder. He pushed his glasses up his nose, swallowing hard.

“Spencer,” you say, dropping your flirty facade in fear of him combusting in front of you. You nudge your finger against his hand, timidly. “I won't bite. You can talk to me.”

“Okay.” He croaks out, playing with your fingertips. And without looking directly at you, he lets out a sigh to muster some courage and says, “I like you.” He manages to say, pretending as if the way you said his name didn't affect him that much. You're smiling at him and suddenly he's fourteen again with butterflies in his stomach because his first crush just greeted him in class.

“I like you too,” you confess in a whisper. You're too close yet so far.

Spencer shakes his head, lifting his gaze to yours since he was staring at your hands. “Not like that. Not in a I like-your-coffee-and-your-flirting kind of way.”

You fear you're misunderstanding him and you don't want to make a fool out of yourself, so you remain quiet, getting lost in the twinkle in his brown eyes provided by the street lamp outside.

“I like you in a... I-want-to-spend-more-time-with-you way.” Finally, he says it. Could he have explained it better? Yes. Is he able to do it? Not with you looking at him like that. “I-Mm, I mean, I love your company and spending time here but I would like to take you on a date.” You were supposed to ask for her number first! What are you doing, you idiot?! “If you want to, of course.”

You can't hold back the giant grin taking over your features. “Boy genius,” you drawl out, doing what you've been fantasizing from the first moment you've seen him: touch his hair. You pull a stubborn strand behind his ear and from the way he almost flutters his eyes shut and leans into your touch, you assume he likes it. “When I said that I liked you, I didn't mean as a favourite-cute-costumer-of-the-month kind of way. But in an I-think-he's-cute way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. Preferably, somewhere where we don't drink coffee.”

The crinkles around his eyes show up as he chuckles, nodding. “Okay, yeah, we can definitely do that.”

“Cool.” And you can't stop smiling like an idiot.

Spencer not only got the number but a date with the cute barista. He'd say that's very cool.

[bgarchivee]

key (shinee/soloist)

[jmdbjk]

Cannot wait...

Still a month away from watching these two be their adorable goober selves together:

I keep telling everyone around me I'm going to be insufferable for a while, with Jimin and Muse coming soon and then these two together, week after week ... makes me giddy. Sorry, not sorry.

We'll get teasers. I'm going to squee over all of those as well. Again, sorry, but not very sorry at all actually.

All of it takes me back to when I realized JK's 2022 Vlog was going to be centered around camping. Honestly? I was a little surprised. He has never come across as the outdoorsy type to me. But he'd never had the chance to express much of what interests him outside of BTS and outside of what we saw on various content through the years either!

This series of vlogs helped us see each member doing things they chose to do on their own and helped kick off the "solo" era in 2022.

Jungkook's delight in stopping at Korea's version of Buc-ee's and buying gas station food and eating to his heart's content was oddly satisfying. Maybe because I take great pleasure in doing such simple things too, after all, the best part of a road trip is stopping to buy snacks along the way, am I right? The service area where they stopped is called the Gapyeong Service area on the Seoul-Yangyang Expressway (60). These places are like a food court/mini mall. Just like Buc-ee's.

I am already laughing at the thought of he and Jimin stopping at a grocery store to buy deli pizza in Connecticut... IT'S GOING TO BE WOEFULLY SUBSTANDARD I FEAR!

In his 2022 vlog, Jungkook helped set up the camper he slept in and cooked and sat around the campfire drinking. And we know in past Bon Voyage seasons and other content, they've pitched tents and slept outdoors. All of these things he must have immensely enjoyed if we might be seeing them again soon with Jimin.

Then there's the recent story going around about someone spotting he and Jimin returning their rental car in Japan and learning Jungkook was driving... Jungkook got to drive on the "wrong" side of the road in Japan! He put that international driver's license to use finally!

From the preview clip the other day, it appears Jungkook also got to practice his motorcycle handling skills. Handling a Harley Davidson is a bit trickier than handling a smaller motorcycle. Those things are heavy. And it's a little different when you have a passenger sitting behind you. The two Harley helmets we saw sitting on the edge of his sofa last year... yep, he's had practice.

TMI: I was today year's old when I learned that motorcycles are banned on major roadways in Korea.

Are we going to see how Jimin scraped his knuckles while snorkeling on Jeju?

And that nekkid-in-bed live when Jungkook was begging him to come over and Jimin told him to look at the photo he sent... did Jimin get a black eye from being elbowed when they were sleeping?

And as I was running through my blog posts, I realized all of these things I previously said last year:

Me wondering if their trip to Japan was unstructured and spur of the moment...

I wondered if Closer Than This was a pre-release to an upcoming album...

I'm thankful to Tae for bringing JK along with his Wooga friends to that ski resort back in 2022. We can't know if JK had ever snowboarded before that but it appears he loved it enough to want to stick around long after they left him there. And now he had the chance to do it again with Jimin! I know they had so much fun together. At the beginning of this year, I pointed out some fun facts about Sapporo...

Skiing? Snowboarding? All of the above?

And save this for future reference, it's the onsen resort image we heard about and I mentioned in a weekly Bangtan report this past February....

Maybe none of the above will be accurate, but thinking about how much fun they had anyway has me very excited for August 8.

[devzo]

Hi hi! Can you do a fluff to smut where Bill Confesses his feelings for yn ? (Female reader) 2009 era

CONFESSING FEELINGS

Bill kaulitz

content: fluff+smut

a/n: I didnt know which era of 2009 you wanted, ‘cause man had a thousand different one in the same year. So i just chose the dread one, you can imagine him differently!! Thank you for the request, and keep them coming!

You and Bill were close, really close. You were practically joined at the hip, always together whether it was hitting the mall, shopping, or just chilling at each other's places.

You had invited Bill over for a movie night, and there you were, huddled up on the couch with white chicks playing on the TV. "I want to tell you something," Bill's voice breaks the silence. "What is it?" you respond, your curiosity piqued. You moved slightly, now fully facing him, your attention solely on his words.

"I… I like you, I’ve liked you since i first laid my eyes on you," Bill admitted, his words catching you off guard. Knowing he felt the same way after all this time filled you with an overwhelming sense of joy. You leaned in for a kiss, and he reciprocated it happily. Bill deepened the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth. As it tangles with yours, he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you close as his other hand cupped your cheek, a tender gesture that spoke volumes.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently urged you to lie back on the couch, positioning himself between your legs with an intimate closeness. He was needy, and you could feel it.

He trailed kisses sloppily down your neck and collarbone, his hands trembling as they slowly move to take off your shirt, pulling it over your head as his gaze falls to your lace covered breasts. "You're so beautiful," he whispered softly, his words filled with genuine admiration.

His fingers traced the outline of your bra, reaching around and unclasping it. He watches as the straps fall from your shoulders while smirking to himself. He couldn’t believe you were giving yourself to him, since the day he met you, he never thought this exact moment would happen.

But here you were, sprawled out on the couch, in only your underwear as your clothes were thrown somewhere neither you or Bill cared. You looked down, the tent evident through Bill’s skinny jeans. His hands quick to unbutton his pants, unzipping the fly and taking them off, tossing them near your own. The only thing separating you from pleasure were your underwear.

Your hand relocates from your side to the back of his neck, tugging at his dreads impatiently. “So impatient, are we baby?” He coos softly, chuckling slightly when he hears you whine, He reattaches his lips to you neck, quickly finding your most sensitive spot as you moan softly.

Your other hand found it’s way to the waistband of his boxers, your fingers slipping in and out of it. Bill sensed this, his hand brushing yours off and he takes off the fabric, His dick sprang free, the veins on it more prominent then ever, the tip red with precum dripping from it.

His hands shifts to your panties, pulling them down with a swift move. His eyes were glued to your pussy, the folds a pretty pink and glistening. “Such a pretty pussy,” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss just above your clit, eliciting a whine out of you.

“please, Bill.. Stop teasing and just- Oh fuck!”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up your slit, the small metal ball on his tongue felt cold on your skin. Bill reaches your clit and wraps his mouth around it, sucking gently.

“Oh my god.” you moan out as bill probes at your entrance with his finger, slowly inching it inside. You clench your thighs together, leading Bill to pry them apart, spreading them wide giving him room. His tongue flicks out tentatively, tracing the edge of your folds while driving his finger in and out of you.

He adds another finger, now his middle and ring finger in you. This adds to the euphoric feeling. He curls his fingers, brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you, making you see stars. He continued sucking, nipping, flicking, at your clit.

“Bill, fuck. I’m close.. Dont stop!” You moan out. Bill smirks against your skin. “Are you baby?” His fingers picking up speed inside you. You unconsciously squeeze your thighs together, almost suffocating Bill, but not that he’d mind being suffocated by your thighs.

Your walls clench around his fingers, your release close. Your eyes shut tightly as ebony covers your vision, with white specks enveloping the sight.

“’mcumming’mcumming, fuck!”

You exclaim as you reach your climax, releasing in Bill’s mouth as he gladly takes what he wants from you. He slurps up your juices, humming approvingly to himself. “You taste so good, baby.”

He leaned up and kissed you, His hand moving for your thigh to your breast, he squeezes slightly, his tongue entering your mouth as you gasp, making you taste yourself. You cringed slightly at the taste.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” Bill whispered against your mouth. “mhm.” you hum desperately, you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, begging for release. He positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing just the tip inside making you whine.

With one fluid motion, Bill slides into you, his girth stretching you in ways you never imagined. His hips began to move in a slow, sensual grind as he feels the heat of your body surround him.

“mm, you feel so good, baby.” He picks up the pace, the sound of skin clapping surrounding the room. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. Now not just brushing against your g-spot, he’s directly hitting it. Your nails drag along his back, leaving trails of pleasure-pain behind.

Bill’s thrusts becomes more forceful, his moans mix with yours, creating a symphony of lust and desire. “I’m so close.” he warns, his breath hot against your ear. “Me too.” you say as you clench around him. With that small move, Bill groans loudly and releases himself into you, his seed pouring deep inside you.

You follow him soon after, Bill continues to thrust gently into you, riding out both your highs. When your highs subside, his body shudders with pleasure as he leans forward, collapsing onto you, his breathing heavy and erratic. “You did so good for me.” Bill nuzzles into your neck, his hands gently caressing your body.

“that was… incredible.” You state. “you are incredible.” he corrects, provoking a smile from you as pulls out of you, rolling off and laying down next to you. He wraps an arm around you pulling you closer to his chest and he pets your hair, mumbling praises about how ‘You were so good to me’ ‘You were such a good girl.’ ‘You okay?’

[fanficsforfun]

Nothing crazy

Pairing: Merle Dixon x female reader

Era: Prison

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: explicit sexual content (very vanilla though)

Summary: You’re feeling a bit down and Merle decides to cheer you up

---

You were sitting in your cell, fidgeting a color pencil in your hands. You missed your old life, the normal days before the outbreak. Sometimes you had thought it was boring, but now you would rather live that boring life you once had. It was pointless to hope you could get back in those days, you knew that, but that's what you were hoping for. How nice it would be to take a walk in the neighborhood, see people doing whatever they would be doing after work, to go grocery shopping in a normal way, get to eat something other than canned food or hunted animals, live in a damn house instead of a prison… 

Suddenly Merle's voice pulled you out of your not-so-happy thoughts. 

"What's the matter, sugar?" He asked. 

"Nah, nothing really", you replied. Life was what it was now, there was no going back. You just had to live with it. 

"I don't buy that", Merle commented. 

You just rolled your eyes.

"Well, whatever it is, I know what could help", Merle replied with a rather suggestive tone. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t you ever think about anything else than-”, you started, but he cut you off. 

"Of course I do. But surely a little pleasure wouldn't hurt." 

You just raised your eyebrows to him, partly annoyed by his behavior, but partly interested. He smirked, walked over to you and sat to the end of your bed, leaning against the wall. 

"Come here, girlie" he called, positioning himself in a way that you could go sit between his legs. 

You hesitated for a moment but then decided to crawl over to him. At that point you just wanted to stop thinking about your old life, even though you weren't exactly in the mood. A smile rose to his lips as he asked you to lean back. You did, though you felt a bit nervous. Well, maybe it would be just fine as long as he would keep his wits about him on the way. Despite your hesitance, the warmth of his body actually did make you feel better. Yet you flinched when he wrapped his hurt arm around your waist. 

"Easy girl, I won't do anything crazy", Merle chuckled as if he would have read your thoughts. "I promise."

"Yeah, right", you commented sarcastically. Everybody knew that most of the time it was very far from the truth. Merle did nothing but crazy things.

"No, seriously. And ya can just stop me if anything's not okay." 

You only replied with a humm because he had slid his good hand over your thigh, although on the outer side of it. His hand was warm and sure and got all of your attention. Soon he moved his hand on your other thigh, repeating the same motion. You let out a contained sigh. His touch felt... good. It didn't take long before you started to feel a slight tingly sensation between your legs. You were getting aroused. Merle's hand had moved closer to your inner thighs, although still over the hem of your dress. You gulped and pressed your thighs tighter together. It was unbelievable how easily he managed to turn you on.

Merle's hand left your thighs, moving over your belly up to your chest and slightly brushing your neck. On the way down, he let it brush your breast. Your breath hitched at the touch. 

"Ya still alright?" Merle checked with a quiet voice. 

"Uh-huh" you replied. More than okay. 

"Good", came his husky answer.

When his hand next went up, it grabbed your breast, gently squeezing it. A jolt of pleasure rushed through you. The strong hand carefully massaged you, making you feel all warm inside.

"No bra", Merle murmured against your hair. "Naughty girl..." 

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. When Merle's thumb brushed over your hardened nipple, you moaned. 

"Feels good, don't it?" He teased. 

You hummed, arching your back a little to push your chest against his hand. Merle laughed quietly, teasing the nipple of your other breast through the fabric of your dress. After a while his hand moved lower, caressing your sides and belly. Eventually his hand returned down, he gathered the hem of your dress up, and then asked you to open up your legs. Your heart rate picked up but you did as he asked, and the next thing you felt was his fingers slowly brushing over your pussy. A small moan escaped from your lips. The touch was so soft you could barely feel it, but all the teasing had made you horny enough that your pussy was receptive to even such light touches.

Merle kept his word on not doing anything crazy. He just kept brushing your pussy ever so lightly over the fabric of your panties. Your pussy was swollen and needy already but somehow his touch was relaxing. All of this little playing, although clearly erotic in nature, was soothing to you. And it definitely had banished your thoughts of your old life. You could feel his finger slowly moving down and then back up between your legs, bringing so much pleasure with every stroke. You had to close your eyes and just enjoy the slow strokes teasing you so gently. It wasn’t your first time with Merle, you knew how skilled he was when it came to making love, but this was something new. It wasn't the usual hot and passionate sex but slow, a mixture of sensuality and casuality. And you loved it.

After a while Merle added some pressure, but still kept his touch rather light. You spread your legs further open, making him smirk. Then he pressed two of his fingers against your covered entrance, the smirk on his face widening when he felt a wet spot emerging on the fabric. You moaned at the sensation of his fingers against your core. You almost hoped he would just push them into you but of course he didn’t. He released the pressure, then pressed his fingers down there again. And again. And again. He then added a slight rubbing motion to it.

"Yer really enjoying this, ain't ya?" Merle teased when you started slightly rocking your hips at the pace of his fingers playing with you. 

You only moaned as a response. You hadn't felt that good in ages. It didn't take long until you started to squirm. The grip of Merle's arm around your waist tightened, keeping you still. Your head fell back against his shoulder, the frequency of your moans increasing. Warmth had started to pool in your belly, indicating your approaching orgasm. Merle started rubbing your pussy a bit faster, adding once more some pressure. You tried to hold back your moans as your pleasure grew, but they just kept falling from your lips. 

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Merle slid his hand under your panties, his fingers landing on your needy, sensitive clit. He rubbed it slowly, slower than just a moment ago when his hand was still outside of your panties, taking his time to bring you to the very edge. You had grabbed his arm, your pussy dripping wet from the teasing. When he noticed your breath hitching and your muscles tensing, he slowed the movement of his fingers even more. Every slow roll of his fingers on the little nub was bringing you closer to your relief, yet prolonging the moment so sweetly.

"There you go girl, I know yer close", Merle murmured. "Come on, come for me." 

You were running out of breath, your pussy feeling like it was about to explode, until the tension erupted and a warm wave of pleasure rushed through your body as your pussy was pulsating in the grip of an overwhelmingly strong orgasm. A whine escaped from your lips when Merle just kept slowly rubbing you throughout your orgasm, adding the pleasure of it. 

Afterward you felt exhausted. Your pussy was aching, your soaked panties feeling cool against your core. Merle held you tight, allowing you to recover. You couldn't remember ever having such a powerful orgasm as that Merle's skilled fingers had brought. When your breathing started to even out, you turned to Merle and had to admit he had been right, it did help.

Merle chuckled. "I told ya!"

[firewoodwander]

Firewoodwander Revival Era is GO!!! 🎉🎉🎉💖💖💖

🦌+ Codex ft. Sweet Thing please!!

Wintertime prompts

Cody is minding his own business, nominally. Here he sits, on his usual bench, admiring the way the wind whirls and whips crunchy golden leaves that scatter about the path in miniature hurricanes. Next thing he knows there’s a tiny little nose snuffling cold and wet at his fingers, accompanied by rapid puffs of warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his hand.

“Hello, Sweet Thing,” he murmurs, and turns his hand to scratch behind tiny ears.

About as long as one of Cody’s forearms—and just about as broad—Sweet Thing is a little scrap of a hound with almost no hair and adorably drooly jowls. She snorts with excitement at the attention and wags her tail so violently her whole body wiggles with it.

“Hiya,” Cody tells her, catching her front paws when she jumps up at his knee, “hi.”

She looks him right in the eye as he leans in to let her lick his nose, then sneezes directly in his face.

Cody barely pays any mind to wiping dog snot off his chin. “Where’s your dad, hey?”

“I’m going to start calling you her dad, seeing as you’re the only one she will ever listen to.”

Scooping up Sweet Thing like a precious, delicate porcelain baby, Cody stands and turns to grin at Rex, who’s strolling casually along the path. Rex smiles right back, somehow still so bright under the heavily overcast sky; they fall into step together to continue around the park.

“She would never leave you for me, old boy,” Cody reminds him. “Surely you know that.”

“She would betray me in a heartbeat for a scrap of bread,” Rex scoffs. “She already has.”

Their elbows knock and their arms brush as they walk, Sweet Thing’s lead swinging lazily from its loop around the back of Rex’s neck and Cody’s hands busy with bestowing tummy scratches on his apparent god dog-ter. She grumbles and yowls with pleasure, and Rex sends an undisguised look of contempt her way.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to take that thing home,” he says.

“You know exactly what was going to have happened if you hadn’t,” Cody (rightfully) complains. They’ve had this argument so many times it’s not even an argument.

“You would have taken her, and all would be well in the world.”

“I couldn’t, Rex. You know I couldn’t.”

Rex sighs and mumbles something that is almost certainly “more fool you for choosing to work at that shelter,” but Cody decides generously not to hear it.

Instead he stoops to let the furball scramble back onto solid earth and scamper away, tail up and nose down following the scent of local pigeons.

“You know,” Rex begins. He has that tone about him that means he thinks he knows what he’s about to say is going to get him in trouble, but he’s going to say it anyway, mostly because he’s a bastard. Cody turns to him, brow raised and amusement at the ready.

“You could just move out of that apartment. I know a place.”

Well. Not what he expected.

“You know a place,” Cody echoes. “That allows pets?”

“And is on the first floor, has parking, a lift, access, is close to the shops and the station.”

“That does sound like a good place. What’s the—”

“Long lease, affordable rent, moderate service charge. Area is okay. Good holonet speeds. Walls aren’t too thin.”

“But?”

Rex scuffs his boot on the concrete as he walks and doesn’t look at him.

“But it does come with a roommate.”

Cody hums. He stays quiet for a while. A long while. Long enough to have walked around half of the pond already, for Sweet Thing to have attacked at least three interloping leaves and come back to check Cody’s still alive each time, and for the trees to set up the perfect ambient rustle. But Rex, steadfast and certain, doesn’t fold even a little. Cody shoves his hands in his pockets and watches his breath spiral into the sky.

“A roommate.”

“A roommate.”

“Anything notable about this roommate?”

“Not much,” Rex admits. “But they come with a Sweet Thing attached.”

Dried out by the cold, Cody’s lips crack and ache when he smiles. His elbow knocks Rex’s again and this time he leaves it there, warm and solid and close.

“Well,” he decides. “That doesn’t sound too bad at all.”