#Red and White Wine Storage

[shefu-choice]

Unwinding with a glass of wine and a board of cheesy goodness. 🍷

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#wine #wineglassset

#wineandcheesenight #redwine #whitewine #corkscrew #cheeseboard #winelover #winelovers #vineyard

[dubmaletta]

Inspiration for a Mediterranean-style enclosed dining room remodel with white walls, a brown floor, and a vaulted ceiling.

Mt Adnah Cemetery

[lecavistblog]

The Science Behind Wine Colours: Why Is Wine Red, White, or Rosé?

Wine comes in a stunning variety of colours, but have you ever wondered what makes a wine red, white, or rosé? The answer lies in the winemaking process, particularly how the grape skins interact with the juice during fermentation. Let’s explore the fascinating science behind wine colours and understand why different wines have their distinct hues.

Why Is Wine Red?

Red wine gets its deep colour and rich flavour from the grape skins. The process known as maceration allows the juice to remain in contact with the skins, extracting pigments called anthocyanins, tannins, and other compounds that contribute to the wine’s colour, texture, and complexity.

Key Factors in Red Wine Production:

Grape Varieties: Red wines are made from dark-skinned grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Pinot Noir.

Fermentation Process: The longer the juice remains in contact with the skins, the deeper the colour and bolder the flavour.

Ageing: Red wines are often aged in oak barrels, which enhances their flavours and adds structure.

Why Is Wine White?

White wine, despite being made from both white and red grapes, appears pale because the skins are removed before fermentation. This prevents the pigments from colouring the wine and results in a light, crisp beverage.

Key Factors in White Wine Production:

Grape Varieties: Common white grapes include Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and Riesling.

Minimal Skin Contact: The juice is quickly separated from the skins to maintain clarity and freshness.

Fermentation: White wines are often fermented at cooler temperatures to preserve their delicate aromas and acidity.

Why Is Wine Rosé?

Rosé wine sits between red and white in both colour and flavour. It is made from red grapes, but the skins are left in contact with the juice for only a short period — typically a few hours to a couple of days — just enough to give it a pink hue.

Key Factors in Rosé Wine Production:

Short Maceration Time: The limited skin contact results in a lighter colour and softer tannins.

Direct Pressing: Some rosé wines are made by pressing red grapes gently, extracting just enough pigment.

Blending: Though rare, some rosé wines are created by mixing red and white wines.

Rosé wines are refreshing and versatile, often displaying bright berry and citrus notes, making them perfect for warm-weather sipping.

Conclusion

The colour of wine is determined primarily by the grape variety and the winemaking process, particularly the interaction between the grape skins and juice during fermentation. Whether you prefer the bold richness of red wine, the crisp freshness of white wine, or the delicate charm of rosé, understanding how these colours are achieved can deepen your appreciation for every sip.

For more info visit — https://lecavist.com/blogs/news/why-is-wine-red-white-or-rose

[soonwoosz]

arranged marriage! seungcheol x reader

-------------------

you didn't know how you landed in this position.

a tight, robotic smile on your face, both hands on your knees as your gaze switched from your mother to the lady sitting opposite her. it was hard to keep yourself from fidgeting too much

the ruffled lace on your neck constantly itched, courtesy of your mother who insisted you wear this top for your blind date in order to keep up your image as the 'perfect' daughter of a CEO.

just yesterday, you were still a single, carefree individual who could party in clubs with your friends whenever you wanted. today? you were the fiancè of the son of a partner your father had good relations with - funny how your whole life changed in under 24 hours

as soon as you realised what plans your parents had signed you up for, you didn't take that news lightly. it took hours of arguments, threats to cut off your relationship, and a whole breakdown for you to accept your current situation. and now, you just had to keep up the act of being an obedient daughter, and future wife to appease everyone at the table.

-------------------

your mother noticed your nerves, a hand landing on your thighs to stop them from shaking. she leaned slightly over, whispering a "Just a few more minutes, Mrs. Choi says your fiancè will be here very soon".

you sighed internally, only able to pray that your future partner wouldn't be an arrogant, narcissistic, ugly man that would be on your tail for the rest of your lives - just like all the other ones you've met during the few times you've joined your parents on their business gatherings.

gasp. what if, even worse, he's controlling!

being a wife was one thing, but being a wife AND having your freedom taken away? that was definitely a bigger problem.

your hands shook harder at that thought, coughing as you felt your throat dry up.

you took a sip of water from the wine glass, before standing up to excuse yourself to the washroom.

your eyes wandered around, desperate for an escape plan to avoid this wretched marriage. there was almost no way, however, with the security guards standing by the door of the restaurant.

you cursed, taking a left-turn away from the washrooms, to what you hoped was the back door of the restaurant.

a breath of relief left your mouth when the crisp winter air outside brushed your face.

the backyard was long and desolate, only filled with a few pots of flowers and storage boxes. compared to the luxurious exterior you saw on the outside when walking in, where there was a tall pagoda tree, and bushes of flowers lined the pathway with red carpet.

the restaurant was boxed in by tall walls, resembling the typical traditional korean houses; and with no other exits, the only way out was....up.

"Okay, all i need to do is leave this place and buy a plane ticket to london. they won't be able to catch me over there!"

you muttered out, grabbing the several plastic boxes and lining them against the wall.

it took 5 sturdy boxes, all stacked up on each other, for you to finally be able to reach and hop onto the top of the wall.

you were delighted, a genuine smile finally blooming on your face when reality hit you.

how were you going to get down?

when you heard a frivolous and gentle male voice spoke from below

"Where are you going, Miss?"

you looked down and saw a man with a handsome face. his black suit and dark, long coat made his skin look white and his figure defined; muscled arms, long legs and a broad chest.

he looked up at you.

"I..."

you were thinking of excuses for yourself in your mind, but you didn't know that your cheeks were already flushed.

"Come down when you've had enough fun, and I'll carry you back."

-------------------

끝

[blushcoloreddreams]

5 things to clean everyday

Good morning and happy Thursday everyone! I

So today let’s talk cleaning. Don't forget to turn up the music, a podcast, audiobook (my favorite) or to cart your Netflix around with you to each room because it is officially CLEANING TIME.

Yeah baby!

Everyone already knows about the importance of making their beds in the morning but let’s talk about the 5 areas you should clean ABOVE ALL ELSE. If you have no energy at the end of the day, at least take time to do these 5 areas. 5 minutes each, 25 minutes total. Totally worth it.

1. Sinks

Keep your bathroom sinks white and sparkly. Remove the hair, remove the nasty yellow staines and just keep them CLEAN. In your kitchen, empty the sink every night from dishes and pieces of gunky Food. Noncluttter allowed here. Disinfect disinfect disinfect. Dirty sinks cause stress and anger. I am SO not here for it.

Use a cleaner with disinfectant, a castor oil, vinegar, or a heavier all purpose cleaner and spray out that sink! I put the sink to bed every night. It helps me feel so peaceful.

2. The Floors

I’m not really referencing a daily vacuum sesion here. Sure, sweep your kitchen and vacuum your living room every day if you feel so inclined, but today I'm talking CLUTTER. Keep your floor clean of clutter. Pick up the clothes on the bedroom floor, pick up the towels off the bathroom floor, and for the love of all that is good, put the shoes away and don't let them cluster around the front door.

A cluttered red floor full of random items, toys for those with kids , and dirty clothes will definitely add stress to your life. Put on your favorite jam, turn up the volume, and do a quick cleaning sweep. It’s like when we were in kindergarten and we had to sing the ”Clean-Up Song“ and by the end of the song, we had to be done!

3. Clutter piles

Oh the elusive clutter pile. Papers, mail, weird documents, thank you cards, and random things to recycle and Specially "transient-clutter." You know, the type of clutter that builds because every single thing in that pile needs to go to a different home?

Well these clutter piles only breed if we allow ourselves to add to them everyday. Clutter piles MUST be dealt with. They are bad for the brain. Have an inbox/outbox style folder in your kitchen if you must, but I urge you to not use counter space as your personal file folder. Everyday, go through the paper clutter building on your counter: file, recycle, or burn. Your brain will thank you.

4. Your Bedroom

Keep your bedroom a place of zen and peace. It is for sleeping, romantic times, and cuddly times. You do not want to be looking over at a pile of mushy clothes, or a random suitcase when you are trying to relax. Keep your bedroom as a sacred place in the house: no mess enters, no mess leaves. Never use your bedroom as a psuedyo storage room. Keep it special to you or you and your spouse. Remember that bedrooms are supposed to cradle us off to sleep, and should therefore be peaceful.

I take time every single day to tidy the bedroom floors, make sure the furniture is clear of clutter, and to make my bed and make sure my sheets feel fresh. Never unerestimate the power of a clean bedroom combined with your sleep. It’s magical.

5. Your Stovetop

Finally, I encourage you to clean you STOVETOP every dang day. If you follow me on Instagram, you will see me scrubbing that baby on the regular. The stovetop is another "saced" place to me. It is where I spend at least 1-2 hours of my day, and it is a place where I want to enjoy my cooking experience, pop up a YouTube video next to me, or even sip a glass of red wine. I cannot do those things in peace while I'm staring down at crusty egg bits and nasty juices.

Use a cleaner specific to your type of stovetop. I use a glass stovetop cleaner, but if you have a gas stovetop, take time to soak the grates in dish soap and vinegar to remove grease. Clean that stovetop everyday and your sanity will return. I promise.

There you have it friends! Extra ranting about cleaning to hopefully motivate you. There is no reason for us to be cluttered if we do a little every day. Take 5 minutes a day on each of these areas, and you will see an ENORMOUS difference in your life. 5 Minutes for each area, 25 minutes a day, and a lifetime of internal zen, peace, and joy.

Have a fabulously clean weekend friends. No clutter piles

[sissylittlefeather]

Animal Instinct: A Johnny Tyrone Story

A/N: I hadn't written a movie character one in a while, so it just felt right. Also, even if you hate Harum Scarum, the smut here is some of the hottest I've ever written so, y'know, read it anyway 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, all the smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, face fucking, ejaculation, Johnny is a bit bossy, but not mean, idk this is a smut fest

Word count: ~2k

Johnny surveys the room while his movie plays on the projector. This is a wild crowd, exotic and unique, but also beautiful. His eyes move from face to face, admiring the women as he scans for someone to entertain him tonight. He's leaving in the morning, but he has this evening to fill and he knows what he's in the mood for.

That's when he finds you, a cocktail waitress, moving clumsily from table to table. It's obvious you're a little uncomfortable in this role, but he finds all your stumbles and apologies endearing. Especially when you bend over to pick up a dropped fork and your tight skirt rides up in the back and perfectly hugs the curve of your ass. Eventually, you bring a tray of drinks over to his table. You notice him immediately, looking almost like James Bond in his white jacket with the black bow tie. As an American expat who's living here with your family after your father moved to the area for business, you're familiar with Johnny Tyrone. Without thinking, you lean over the table to hand someone else a drink and he gets a good peek of your cleavage. Now he's dead set on making something happen with you. He just has to find the right opening, the right line. But he doesn't even need one when you accidentally slip and drop a whole glass of red wine in his lap, staining his white jacket.

“Oh my God! Shit. I'm so sorry!” He chuckles a little at how you curse and fumble to find a napkin.

“It's really fine-”

“No! I ruined your jacket!” You go to work frantically wiping his lap to try to clean up the mess you've made, not even thinking about which part of his body you're touching. He tries to decide if he should stop you, since you're basically stroking his cock at this point, but he decides this is his opening. That's when you feel him and gasp. He's rock hard under your palm.

“Oh!” You freeze and pull your hand back quickly. “Oh God, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be, honey, I was quite enjoying it.” If he was any other man on earth, that might be creepy, but he gives you a small lopsided smile and you melt, your panties getting noticeably wetter.

“Your jacket…” He looks down at the giant red stain at the bottom of his jacket.

“I bet you've got something in the kitchen that'll get this off. Don't ya, honey?” His blue eyes are on fire and you know he's not talking about getting a stain off.

“Yeah… some club soda… or something.” You bite your bottom lip and rub your thighs together, praying he doesn't notice, but he does, of course. He's got you exactly where he wants you.

“Well, I'm following you, honey.” You notice he adjusts himself so that his erection won't be noticeable when he stands up. Nodding, you let him put his hand on the small of your back and then guide him to the kitchen.

Thankfully, everyone there is so worried about what they're doing that no one bats an eye when you walk in with him. He leans down and whispers in your ear, pressing himself up behind you.

“We need somewhere more private to take care of this… stain…” You wrack your brain and look around the room. That's when you remember the dry storage closet. No one ever really goes in there after the cooking is finished and it's big enough for two people to move around comfortably.

“C'mon.” You grab his hand and take him to the closet, prepared to tell anyone who asks that you're looking for club soda, but no one even acknowledges you.

When you make it inside, he has his hand on your ass before you even close the door. Once it's locked, he pushes up against your back again and whispers in your ear.

“I'm Johnny, honey. What's your name?” You whisper your name back to him breathlessly as he presses his lips to the side of your neck. “You're very sexy, honey. Anybody ever tell you how sexy you are?”

His hot breath on your ear has you dripping with desire as his lips graze your skin. You whimper as he puts both hands on your hips, bending you forward a bit, and then runs them down the front of your thighs to the hem of your dress. He moves his fingertips under the edge of your skirt and around to the back of your legs. One hand grabs your ass cheek and the other slips between your legs up to your slippery center. He pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger through your folds, moving his other hand up to your hip to hold you still.

“Damn, honey. So wet already and I haven't even touched you yet. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you, princess.” You gasp as he pushes first one and then two fingers up inside of you, pumping them hard. “You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you with his fingers, princess?”

“Y-yes… oh God, daddy.” You whimper and moan as he slams his hand against you. After a few seconds, he slips his fingers out and then pulls you back to his chest, whispering in your ear.

“Just wait until I get my cock in you.” You moan loudly and grind your ass against him where he strains against his pants. “Is that what you want, princess?”

“Fuck… yes, please.” It comes out as a whine and he smiles.

“Tell daddy what you want.” He slides both hands up your front to squeeze your breasts.

“I w-want you to fuck me.” He groans in your ear and bucks his hips against your ass. You feel him pull back a bit as he undoes his pants and frees his dick, pumping it a few times. He rips your panties down with one hand and they get stuck at your knees, but he doesn't care. You whimper when he pulls your skirt up roughly, exposing you to him. You've never been with anyone this intense and it's turning you on like crazy.

“Such a pretty little ass.” He spanks you and you yelp a little. “I'd love to get my tongue in your pussy, but I'm not sure daddy can wait that long tonight.”

As he talks, he rubs his tip around in your arousal. You can't see his cock, so when he starts to push into you, you gasp a little with the size of him.

“You're taking daddy’s cock so well, princess. D’you like it? Like me fillin’ you up like this?” You whimper and nod your head, unable to make words. He bends you forward and pushes on your lower back to arch it a bit as he finally bottoms out, so deep inside you it makes you want to scream in the best way possible. Then, he grabs your ponytail, wraps it around his hand, and pulls as he waits for you to adjust to him.

You hold onto the metal shelves filled with dry goods and he slowly starts to pick up a pace of pounding you from behind. Each thrust gets a little harder and eventually things are falling off the shelves as he slams into you over and over, one hand in your hair and one hand on your hip. “Fuck, honey, this little pussy is so good. So good and tight for daddy.”

You moan loudly as droplets of sweat slide down his forehead. He hasn't had a fuck this good in a while and he's not exactly eager for it to end. Still, he can feel you getting close and he's also not going to let you go unsatisfied.

“You gonna cum for daddy, princess?”

“Yes, oh!” You're a whimpering, gasping mess at this point.

“Be a good girl and rub on your clit for me.” He says it with such authority that you don't even think about it. You just run your hand between your legs and go to work dragging your fingertips over your sensitive bud as he ruts into you from behind. “That's it, honey, good girl. Make yourself cum for daddy.”

“Fuck…” It comes out as a moan as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on, honey. Daddy needs to feel you.” That's all it takes to push you over the edge into the wildest climax you've ever experienced. It's like someone lit your blood on fire as it rushes through you and you shiver and throb around his cock. He fucks you through it and you damn near pass out with the sensation of him hitting your g-spot as you cum.

When you go floppy, he pulls out and turns you around, pushing you up against the door. He lifts you up by your thighs and slides into you as you wrap your legs around his waist. You bite your lip to keep from screaming at the overstimulation, but it feels so good that you'd never dream of making him stop. Almost anticipating what you're thinking, he whispers huskily in your ear.

“You can do it, princess. You can take this cock until I finish like a good girl.”

“Fuck, daddy, please…”

“Please what?” He kisses your neck so tenderly as he pounds you harder than you've ever been fucked before.

“Please don't stop…”

“You want daddy to fill you up with cum, princess? Or you want it all over you?”

“On me.” He grins and captures your lips in a bruising kiss. Then, he pulls out and sets your feet back on the floor. Your legs are shaking like crazy though, so you're thankful when he gives you a new direction.

“Get on your knees, princess.” You eagerly do as you're told and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “Open.”

He pushes his cock past your lips and as far back as it'll go without making you gag. Somehow, he knows just where to stop, as he holds your ponytail again and thrusts slowly into your mouth. Your eyes water, but you use your hand to pump the rest of him. He's too big to fit entirely into your mouth.

“Yes, princess. You like when daddy fucks you like this? God, you're so pretty with your lips on my cock.” You can't do anything more than let out a muffled moan. “Gonna cum soon.”

You push the shoulders of your shirt down and expose your breasts, squeezing them together to give him a target. He groans and pulls out of your mouth, pumping his dick a few times before he cums long and hard all over your chest.

“Fuck yeah, princess. God, you're so sexy wearing my cum like that.” He holds your chin in his hand and smiles down at you, still fully dressed in his white jacket with the wine stain on it. With his help, you shakily get to your feet and he finds a napkin to wipe you clean with. But before he does, he pulls your shirt back up, leaving you a mess under your top.

“Johnny, what-?” As he wipes the parts of your chest that can be seen, he smirks.

“Now you know, and I know, that you're covered in me where it can't be seen.” Your mouth pops open in slight shock, but the thought turns you on so much that you close it again.

“That's… wow…” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “What are you going to do about your jacket?”

“I have another one in my room. Speaking of…” you feel him press a key into your palm. “You should head up there as soon as you finish here. I'm not quite done with you, princess.”

He winks and clicks his tongue as he walks out of the closet, leaving you to clean up the room. You pick up everything that fell off of the shelves and straighten your dress to go back to work. But no matter how hard you try, you can't ignore the feeling of his release under your shirt. You look at the key in your hand and sigh. There's not a damn thing that could keep you out of his room tonight.

******

The End

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Taglist:

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

I was wondering why this 2008 home is listed for $1.799M (I was expecting, like $10M), and then I saw that it's in Joshua Tree, CA- these desert homes just don't hold their value, it appears. 4bds, 3ba, 2,074 sq ft. So, desert homes aren't really a good investment unless you really want to live in the desert.

Open concept kitchen/family room.

They did this decorative stick wall, which is a fairly inexpensive and an easy feature to do.

The kitchen is quite lovely with the gray cabinetry, quartz counter/island and the quartz wall on the left.

I'm wondering if the orange pieces in the 4 insets convey.

Off to the side of the kitchen there's a dining room with wine shelving, plus storage.

The bedrooms are very colorful, like this pink and red one.

This one is very orange.

This one must be the primary. It's not too much bigger, but it has a nicer floor.

There's a small sitting area.

A large en-suite.

And, it looks like a sink in an alcove. At first I thought it was flanked by closets, but they're just pictures.

I like the mural and floor in this room, but not the closet. It looks so narrow, which is probably why it doesn't have doors. So, $1.8M and you get an open rack for clothes.

Shower room. These days you can't tell if the finishes are quartz, marble, or even a laminate. The counter is definitely either quartz or marble.

Then, they've got a large rec. room.

At least the home is colorful, but there's something to be said about houses with white walls. They look bland, but you can choose your own colors. I'm not liking the bright yellow area. Maybe it's the pink mural that throws the whole room off.

The pool is nice for a godforsaken place like this. No wonder it's been on the market for 117 days.

In the daylight you can see that there's nothing around. The plot of land is 2.74 acres.

This is weird, the house is black (attracts the heat) and they keep the outline of lights on during the day. I can't believe they don't have some kind of cover over the outdoor area to block the sun, and there's no fence around the property. It's a no for me.

https://www.redfin.com/CA/Joshua-Tree/60376-Tacoma-Ct-92252/home/17270792

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

The house where Terry lives changes subtly throughout his relationship with you. The dark, masculine paintings he used to favour are put into storage one by one, replaced with artwork that you’ve chosen together. Brighter pieces, with vibrancy and colour. A warm plush blanket appears on the back of his couch because you get a little cold in the evenings. His wine cellar begins to feature rosé, when it’s only hosted reds and whites.

He spends Sunday mornings at the farmer’s market where he buys seasonal wild flowers. He sets them in a vase he’s never owned until recently, placing them in the centre of the dining table where the two of you eat because he knows you like how pretty they are.

He starts to cook again. Once a week he sends his personal chef home and the two of you spend the evening cooking together. It gets a little messy but it’s a lot of fun, he loves the domesticity of washing the dishes in the aftermath. He can’t keep his eyes off you as you raise up on tiptoes to put things away.

Photographs begin to appear on the fridge, polaroids you’ve taken throughout the course of your relationship. You’d been thrilled to find the camera when Terry was making some space his closet. It’s an original from the 80s. He’d spent the evening cleaning it up for you, showing you the intricacies of it.

“You should keep a few things here.” He had said as he shifted around his clothes and a couple shoe boxes. “It’ll save you coming and going so much between here and Silver Lake.”

He’d stayed at your apartment a couple of times in the beginning. It’s tiny, although bright and airy. The whole place could fit within the confines of his living room. You’d been embarrassed but it had felt more like home than anywhere he’s ever lived. The only problem was the bed, he’s over six four, he doesn’t quite fit, which is part of the reason you spend most of your time at his place.

That night you’re curled up on the couch together, your head resting on his shoulder as you read the latest Karin Slaughter book. He’s flicking through Casino Royale by Ian Fleming, it’s one of his favourite books. He has the whole collection of first editions on his bookcase in the study.

“You are going to give yourself nightmares, reading that this late.” He reminds you with an amused tone in his voice. It’s happened before, if you read something too spooky or violent before bed. You have a vast imagination, one that he envies but sometimes it can work to your detriment.

“I know but it’s too compelling.” You tell him, closing the book and setting it down on the coffee table before you tuck yourself in against him. Terry sighs contently as he sets his own book down, his cheek coming to rest upon the top of your head.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe you should stay.” He says quietly as his fingertips doodle light patterns over your bare arm.

“I am.” You remind him, your palm coming to rest on the space where his heart resides. “You have me until tomorrow morning.”

“No my love.” He whispers as he tips your chin up so he can meet your gaze. “I mean you should come live here, with me.”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spookitordukeit]

Okie dokie!!! This is a rough image of the house layout in Dykwyk?

I have redrawn this 5 times. I have spent 164 hours into this. I can’t keep looking at this thing thing, please take it from me—

This isn’t a one-to-one scale by any means, and some rooms might be smaller or larger then they are in this layout— I’ve never made a layout before but I tried my best ;^; some things may be subject to change, but this is generally what I’m going off of when I write.

A Helpful Key:

Red lines are doors, double red lines are double doors.

Purple lines are hidden doors.

Yellow lines are hidden passages.

Ground floor:

It contains four bedrooms, a kitchen, scullery room, butlers pantry, a garage/workshop, a parlor room, four bathrooms, a laundry room, dining room, mud room, conference room, sun room, and a library.

This floor is more for show then to actually be properly used. It’s where you entertain guests and show off your wealth. Even the kitchen is more show then actually used, as most of the cooking is done in the scullery by employees. Generally at Kristen’s request.

There’s many places to access the secret passageways on this floor, and Harper uses them regularly to hide away or sneak around the house. They were her favorite place as a child.

Bedroom one and two have a connected panic room hidden behind secret doors. They used a be two children’s rooms when the house was built, but now function as a hide away or extra storage.

A spiraled staircase in the library leads down to the lower level of the library, and brings you down to the basement.

The butlers pantry has a hidden servants door that leads to the main cellar in the basement.

The back door leads to the gardens.

Upstairs/second floor:

It has six bedrooms, including two master bedrooms. Master Bedroom 1 belongs to Kristen.

Besides that, it has a lounge, a kitchen, a dining room and bar space, an office, a laundry room, and three bathrooms.

This is considered the main ‘living’ floor. The stairs up require magic confirmation from the security system, or specific permissions imputed for guests. It’s a far less formal, and more intimate space. Still spectacular, but more like a home then a showroom.

The lounge hosts an array of electronics and general livingroom items, along with a needlessly large flat screen for optimal viewing.

The two master bedrooms have a connecting secret passageway that has access to the office and the dimming room.

Attic/Harper’s room:

It contains a bathroom, a walk-in-closet, a laundry shoot, a hidden panic room, a small living area, a sun/cat room, and of course, Harper’s bed.

This space was converted specifically for her as a child, so there’s many things catered to Harper’s taste. Such as a dedicated cat room and a panic room with access to the hidden passages.

The SPE stands for Secret Passage Entry. The black and white void across from it is a perma-portal Harper had installed for Tortellini. The gray box next to the tv is a mini fridge.

Basement:

It contains three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the second floor to the library with direct connection with the study, a gym room, an art room, a home theater, a small kitchen, a wine and food cellar, a panty, fridge, and freezer room, an open space game are, the main laundry room with connections to all the laundry-shoots throughout the house, a large panic room, a storage room, and a utility room.

This is the den of the home. It’s cozy, with warm lighting and soft carpet floors. The walls are lined with rich woods, and the whole space oozes with comfort.

It was the servants quarters when it was originally built, but has long since been converted.

The panic room on this floor is connected to every secret passageway in the house.

Now onto the outside!

This is the grounds layout

The main fixture is, of course, Harper’s home. Beyond that, the building labeled S.S stands for Sulfur’s Security.

As head of security, Sulfur opts to reside right at the entrance of the grounds. He’s in charge of everything from watching the cameras, to operating the front gate. Beside his home is a small shed and utilities like condenser units. (The AC machine.)

Further up is the Garage. Self explanatory. Holds more than 20+ cars for when hosting events. Mainly used for employee parking.

Just above that are two Guest Houses labeled G.H. Outside is a shed and utilities. The smaller guest house is occupied by the head gardener and their family.

The square simply labeled G is the gazebo, located just within the edge of the garden.

The large structure in the back labeled H.H is Helper Housing. They are fairly sized condo-like homes that the people employed by Harper live in along with their families. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

The big, somewhat circular shapes behind the guest houses and the main house are the gardens.

And a rough idea of Sulfur’s home:

The red outline is a bunker that can only be accessed by getting into the secret entrance, and then traveling down the hidden elevator. Because Sulfur is a paranoid freak. The SPE room leads to the underground tunnels that cover a majority of the grounds, including the main manor.

The above floor is mostly just a decoy, as being the first building people come across when approaching the grounds, could be subject to attacks.

The weird zigzags on the main floor is because once again, Sulfur is a freak from a horror verse where he essentially played the role of Horror Sans. He likes his traps :)

He has access to tons of sensitive information, and the entire upper floor is rigged to, at the very least, put anyone unauthorized into mild-to-major peril.

Because Sulfur is a Grillby, and because he suffered severe damage in his original AU, he has to manually heat his core. Thus the ‘heat room’. It’s basically a broiler room on steroids, and it would probably kill a human if they needed up caught in there.

Okay okay, I’m done yapping now. I need to go to bed anyway because I’ve got the Night Shift and I haven’t slept yet— *sobs*

Lemme know if you have any questions or is anything was confusing! I’m always happy go elaborate and yap more!

Also, any suggestions about what skele should go where??? The only one I’ve really settled on is putting Grim in room 11, and Maybe putting Edge in master bedroom 2, because he’s vain like that.

[bratzkoo]

The Chase pt. 2 | bts

author: @bratzkoo​ pairings: jimin x reader, taehyung x reader genre: fluff, angst rating: PG-15 words: 5.1k~ warnings: taehyung and jimin jumping ropes between red and green flag. jungkook in general. summary: with the question of “who will you pick, the one you love or the one who loves you?” you navigate adulthood while chasing and being chased. you love taehyung and jimin loves you. taglist: - masterlist

Three weeks after the exhibition, Y/N's photographs remained on display at Harbor Gallery—now with small red "SOLD" stickers beside two of them. The validation was sweet, but the real triumph was the small studio space above Yoongi's music shop that she'd secured with her first sales. 

Today, she stood in the center of the empty room, watching dust particles dance in the light streaming through the large windows. The hardwood floors needed refinishing and the walls desperately needed paint, but the natural light was perfect. This was hers—the first real space that belonged entirely to her vision.

"So? What's the verdict?" Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, his characteristic calm a contrast to her barely contained excitement.

"It's perfect," Y/N said, turning a slow circle. "The northern exposure is exactly what I need."

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. "Figured you'd appreciate that. Taehyung said you always talked about ideal studio lighting back in school."

Y/N blinked, surprised. "He remembered that?"

"Tae remembers everything. He just doesn't always show it." Yoongi handed her the keys. "Rent's due first of the month. I'll send someone to fix that leak in the corner before you move your equipment in."

As Yoongi headed back downstairs, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from Taehyung: Studio hunting successful?

She smiled, typing back: Perfect light. Perfect space. When are you free to see it?

The response came quickly: Tonight? Finishing at the studio late. 9PM?

Y/N hesitated. Such a late meeting felt different—more intimate somehow. Sure. I'll bring celebratory drinks.

---

By 8:45 that evening, Y/N had swept the floors, wiped down the windows, and set up a makeshift seating area with cushions borrowed from Jimin's apartment. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a wooden crate that would eventually become part of a storage system. She'd changed outfits twice before settling on simple jeans and a soft blue sweater—casual but flattering.

She was fussing with the arrangement of cushions when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Y/N?" Taehyung's voice called.

"Come in!" She straightened up, suddenly nervous.

Taehyung appeared in the doorway, holding a small potted plant with delicate white flowers. "Studio-warming gift," he explained, setting it on the windowsill. "Snake plant. Impossible to kill, even for people who forget to water things when they're in creative mode."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture caught her off guard. "You know me too well."

"I used to." He looked around the space, then back at her. "I'm hoping to again."

Something in his direct gaze made her stomach flip. Y/N turned to open the wine, giving herself a moment to compose her thoughts. "How was the studio session?"

"Productive. Finally got the bridge right on that piece I played for you." He wandered around the room, running his hand along the wall. "This space has good energy. You can feel its potential."

Y/N handed him a glass of wine. "That's exactly what I thought. It needs work, but..."

"It's like a blank canvas," he finished. "Ready for your imprint."

They clinked glasses and sipped in comfortable silence. Taehyung moved to the windows, looking out at the town's twinkling lights below.

"I missed this view," he said quietly. "In Seoul, everything was so high up and distant. Here, you can see real life happening."

Y/N joined him at the window. "You could have stayed there, though. Made a career in the city."

He turned to her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Some things were worth coming back for."

The air between them seemed to thicken. Y/N was acutely aware of how close they were standing, how easy it would be to lean forward just slightly.

Taehyung's phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at it and sighed. "Producer wants revisions by morning."

"You should go," she said, disappointed but understanding.

"I should," he agreed, not moving. Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "But I don't want to."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Tae..."

The sound of his name seemed to decide something for him. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, before pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened as Y/N responded. His hands cupped her face, and hers found their way to his waist, pulling him closer.

When they finally separated, both slightly breathless, Taehyung rested his forehead against hers. "I've been wanting to do that since you came back," he admitted.

"Me too," she whispered.

His phone buzzed again, insistent. Taehyung closed his eyes in frustration before reluctantly pulling away. "I really do have to go. Deadline."

Y/N nodded, still dizzy from the kiss. "I understand."

He gathered his jacket, pausing at the door. "Dinner tomorrow? My place? No work interruptions this time."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling.

After he left, Y/N sat by the window for a long time, touching her lips and watching the town below, her mind replaying the kiss while her heart raced with possibilities.

---

"You're distracted today," Jimin observed the next morning as they shared breakfast at the café. "Something happen with the studio?"

Y/N stirred her coffee, debating how much to share. "Taehyung came by to see it last night."

"Ah." Jimin's expression remained carefully neutral. "And?"

"And... we kissed." The words came out in a rush.

Jimin's spoon paused halfway to his mouth, then continued as if nothing had happened. "I see." He took a deliberate bite of oatmeal. "Are you... happy about that?"

The question was so fundamentally Jimin—concerned with her feelings before anything else—that Y/N felt a surge of affection for him. "I think so. I mean, yes. It's what I wanted."

Jimin nodded slowly. "Then I'm happy for you." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Jimin..." Y/N started, unsure what she wanted to say.

"It's okay," he interrupted gently. "Really. You and Tae... there's always been something there. Everyone knows that."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Y/N searched for words to bridge the gap she could feel forming. "You're still my best friend. That doesn't change."

"Of course not." Jimin looked up with a more genuine smile this time. "Nothing changes that." He glanced at his watch. "I should get to work. Big event planning meeting."

As he stood to leave, Y/N caught his hand. "Are we okay?"

Jimin squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "Always. Just... be careful with your heart, Y/N. Taehyung lives in the moment. It's what makes him brilliant, but..."

"But also what makes him Taehyung," she finished quietly.

Jimin nodded. "Exactly." He released her hand. "Call if you need anything. Anytime."

Y/N watched him walk away, feeling a complex tangle of emotions—happiness about Taehyung warring with concern about shifting dynamics with Jimin. For the first time, she wondered if returning home had been simpler in theory than practice.

---

The following weeks unfolded in a whirlwind of activity. Y/N's days were filled with setting up her studio space, meeting with potential clients, and developing a new photography series inspired by her homecoming. Her evenings increasingly belonged to Taehyung—cooking dinner at his apartment, listening to his latest compositions, losing track of time in conversations that flowed effortlessly until the early hours.

Being with Taehyung was intoxicating—his passion for creation matched her own, his perspective challenged her thinking, and their physical chemistry was undeniable. Yet there remained something ephemeral about their connection, as if she was trying to capture smoke between her fingers.

Some nights he would disappear into his creative process, unreachable by text or call, only to emerge days later with brilliant work and no acknowledgment of his absence. Y/N found herself making excuses for these disappearances—that's just how artists work, she told herself. That's the price of loving someone with a mind like his.

Loving. The word had slipped into her thoughts before she could examine it properly.

Meanwhile, her friendship with Jimin had acquired a careful quality—both of them navigating new boundaries. He remained constant in his support, helping her hang shelves in the studio, connecting her with his extensive network of contacts, always answering her calls no matter the hour. But something had shifted—a guardedness in his smile, a careful distance he maintained even in their closest moments.

When the invitation came for the regional photography competition, it was Jimin who brought her the information, neatly printed and paperclipped to relevant submission deadlines.

"You should enter," he said, setting the papers on her desk as she edited client photos. "The exposure would be good for building your local portfolio."

Y/N scrolled through the details. "The theme is 'Perspective Shifts.' That's... actually perfect for the series I'm working on."

"I thought so too." Jimin leaned against her desk, careful not to disturb her organized chaos. "The judging panel includes some important regional names. Plus, the winner gets featured in East Coast Arts Monthly."

Y/N looked up at him, touched by his continued investment in her career. "Have you told Taehyung about this?"

A shadow crossed Jimin's face. "I haven't seen him this week. He's been in Seoul, hasn't he?"

Y/N tried to mask her surprise. "Seoul? He told me he was on a studio lockdown for a deadline."

An awkward silence fell between them. Jimin shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I got it wrong. Yoongi mentioned something about a meeting with producers, I assumed..."

"No, it's fine," Y/N said quickly, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "We don't check in daily or anything."

Jimin studied her for a moment before speaking again. "Y/N—"

"I should get these competition entries started," she interrupted, not ready for whatever he was about to say. "Thank you for bringing this. Really."

Understanding flashed in Jimin's eyes. "Of course." He pushed off from the desk. "I'll let you work. Dinner tomorrow? The new Thai place opened."

Y/N smiled gratefully. "That sounds perfect."

After he left, she stared at the competition details without really seeing them, unsettled by the realization that Taehyung hadn't been entirely truthful about his whereabouts. It wasn't that they'd made explicit commitments to each other, but the casual omission felt significant.

Her phone chimed with a text from Taehyung: Back tomorrow. Miss you. Your place or mine?

She hesitated before responding: Mine. 7PM.

---

When Taehyung arrived the next evening, he carried takeout from her favorite restaurant and a small bag that turned out to contain a vintage camera lens he'd found at a Seoul flea market. The thoughtful gesture momentarily pushed aside her questions.

"This is incredible," she said, examining the lens. "How did you know I've been looking for this model?"

He smiled, pleased with himself. "You mentioned it that night we looked through your photography books. Said it created a particular quality of soft focus you couldn't replicate digitally."

The fact that he remembered such a specific detail from a casual conversation made her resolve waver. As they ate dinner, Taehyung enthusiastically described the producers he'd met with and the potential collaboration that could elevate his music to national recognition.

"So you were in Seoul," Y/N said finally, keeping her tone neutral.

Taehyung paused mid-sentence. "Yes. Didn't I tell you?"

"You said you were in studio lockdown."

"I was—their studio in Seoul." He frowned slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Y/N set down her fork. "Why not just say you were going to Seoul?"

Taehyung's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "I didn't think it mattered. The point was I'd be unavailable, working intensely." He reached across the table for her hand. "I wasn't trying to hide anything, Y/N."

She wanted to believe him. It would be so easy to let it go, to accept his explanation and move forward. But something nagged at her—a sense that this small miscommunication represented something larger.

"I worry sometimes," she admitted, "that we're not fully present in each other's lives. That we're still operating as these independent entities who occasionally intersect, rather than..."

"Rather than what?" Taehyung asked softly.

Y/N met his gaze. "Rather than partners."

Taehyung was quiet for a long moment. "I've never been good at the conventional relationship things," he finally said. "Checking in, reporting my whereabouts. My mind doesn't work that way."

"I'm not asking for conventional," Y/N countered. "Just... consideration. Inclusion in your decisions when they affect us."

"Are we an 'us'?" His question wasn't challenging but genuinely curious.

The question hung between them, forcing Y/N to confront what she actually wanted. "I'd like to be," she said finally. "But only if you want that too."

Taehyung's eyes softened. He stood, pulling her up from her chair and into his arms. "I want you in my life, Y/N. However that looks." He kissed her forehead. "I'm not good at this, but I'll try. For you, I'll try."

She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and trying to quiet the small voice that wondered if trying would be enough.

---

The photography competition submission deadline approached rapidly. Y/N threw herself into preparing her entry—a series titled "Return," exploring the familiar-turned-strange quality of viewing childhood places through adult eyes. The work was her most personal yet, revealing vulnerabilities she usually kept hidden behind technical precision.

The night before the submission deadline, her phone rang near midnight. Taehyung's name flashed on the screen.

"Are you still working?" he asked without preamble when she answered.

"Just finishing the artist statement," Y/N said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"I'm outside your studio. Let me in?"

Surprised, Y/N went to the window and saw Taehyung standing on the sidewalk below, phone to his ear. She buzzed him in, and minutes later he appeared with coffee and a small bag from the bakery that had closed hours ago.

"How did you get these?" she asked, accepting the still-warm pastry gratefully.

"Namjoon's cousin owns the place. Called in a favor." Taehyung settled on the floor beside her desk, looking over the prints laid out for her final selection. "These are extraordinary, Y/N."

She sank down next to him, suddenly aware of how exhausted she was. "You think so? I've been staring at them so long I can't tell anymore."

"I know so." He pointed to a particular image—a playground shot through raindrops on a window, creating a dreamlike distortion. "This one especially. It captures something... nostalgic but uncomfortable. Like childhood memories that don't quite match reality."

Y/N leaned against him, touched by his understanding of what she'd been trying to convey. "That's exactly what I was going for."

Taehyung wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You're going to win, you know."

"There will be hundreds of entries from professionals with years more experience."

"Doesn't matter. Your perspective is unique." He kissed the top of her head. "Now, what can I do to help you finish?"

For the next two hours, Taehyung helped her organize the final submission—reading drafts of her artist statement, giving thoughtful feedback, handling the tedious technical requirements of the digital upload. When everything was finally submitted at 2:30 AM, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, curling into him on the small studio couch. "I didn't expect you to show up tonight."

"You mentioned yesterday that the deadline was stressing you out," he replied simply. "I wanted to help."

In that moment, all her doubts seemed ridiculous. This was Taehyung—inconsistent in small ways perhaps, but present when it truly mattered. She fell asleep against his chest, more content than she'd been in weeks.

---

The competition results wouldn't be announced for another month, but life didn't pause in the meantime. Y/N's client list grew as word spread about her work, and she found herself busy with everything from engagement shoots to commercial product photography for local businesses.

Taehyung received the news he'd been hoping for—the Seoul producers wanted to sign him for a project that could launch his music nationally. The opportunity would require extended time in Seoul, starting with a three-week trip to negotiate terms and begin initial recording.

"Come with me," he suggested as they discussed the logistics in her studio one evening. "You could photograph the city. Make connections there."

The invitation was tempting—three uninterrupted weeks with Taehyung, exploring a new city together. But Y/N had just established her studio, had commitments to local clients.

"I can't right now," she said regretfully. "But maybe I could visit for a weekend? Once you're settled?"

Taehyung nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "Of course. That makes sense."

The night before his departure, they stayed up until dawn, talking about everything and nothing, making plans for video calls and his return visit. When Y/N drove him to the train station, their goodbye kiss held the bittersweet quality of a milestone—their first real separation since reconnecting.

"Three weeks," Taehyung said, forehead pressed against hers. "It'll fly by."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As she watched his train pull away, a complicated mix of emotions settled in her chest—pride in his success, sadness at his absence, and a tiny, unwelcome thread of relief at having some space to think clearly about their whirlwind reconnection.

---

The first week of Taehyung's absence passed in a productive blur. Y/N channeled her emotional energy into work, extending her studio hours and taking on additional clients. Their nightly video calls maintained their connection, though the time difference and Taehyung's busy schedule sometimes reduced these to brief check-ins rather than the deep conversations she craved.

On Friday evening, exhausted from a day of shooting, Y/N was closing her studio when she noticed water seeping under the door. Following the trail, she discovered a burst pipe in the small bathroom, water rapidly pooling on the hardwood floors perilously close to her equipment.

Panic rising, she called Yoongi, who didn't answer, then the building's emergency number, which went to voicemail. Without thinking, she called Jimin.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said immediately upon hearing the situation. "Try to move your equipment to higher ground. I'll bring supplies."

True to his word, Jimin arrived quickly, armed with towels, a shop vacuum, and basic plumbing tools. Together they worked to contain the damage—Jimin shutting off the water main while Y/N moved her valuable equipment to safety.

An hour later, the emergency had been mitigated. The pipe was temporarily patched, the water cleaned up, and fans positioned to dry the floors. Y/N collapsed onto her couch, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion.

"Thank you," she said fervently. "I would have been lost without you."

Jimin shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel. "That's what friends are for."

"Friends don't usually know basic plumbing repair," Y/N pointed out.

"YouTube tutorial from when my apartment flooded last year," he admitted with a grin. "Never thought I'd actually use that knowledge."

Y/N laughed, then noticed a cut on his hand. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," Jimin dismissed, but allowed her to examine it.

"Let me clean this at least," she insisted, retrieving her first aid kit.

As she tended to his cut, a comfortable silence fell between them—the easy companionship they'd always shared, untainted by the recent complications. Y/N realized how much she'd missed this uncomplicated connection.

"Have you heard from Taehyung?" Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

"Brief calls. He's really busy with the producers." Y/N secured a bandage around his hand. "It's a big opportunity."

Jimin nodded. "He's always been meant for bigger stages."

Something in his tone made Y/N look up. "What do you mean?"

Jimin seemed to choose his words carefully. "Taehyung's talent deserves recognition. But his life has always been about pursuing the next opportunity, the next creative high." He met her eyes. "I've just worried what that means for people who want consistency from him."

Y/N felt a defensive response rise in her throat, then subside as she recognized the truth in Jimin's words. "He's trying," she said quietly.

"I know he is." Jimin's expression was gentle. "And I know you love him. I just..." He hesitated. "I want you to be loved the way you deserve."

The weight of unspoken feelings hung in the air between them. Y/N suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"Jimin—"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my place."

But something had shifted in the room—a door opened that couldn't be closed again. Y/N found herself moving closer to him, drawn by the certainty of his presence, the steadiness he'd always represented in her life.

"It is your place," she whispered. "You've always had a place in my life, Jimin."

His eyes searched hers, vulnerable and hopeful in a way that made her heart ache. Slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, Jimin leaned forward until his lips met hers in a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes.

Unlike the passionate whirlwind of her kisses with Taehyung, this was gentle, unhurried—a conversation rather than a declaration. Y/N found herself responding, her hand coming up to cup his cheek.

When they finally separated, Jimin pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, voice barely audible.

Reality crashed back, bringing with it a wave of guilt. Y/N pulled away slightly. "Jimin, I'm with Taehyung."

Pain flashed across his features before he nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No," Y/N interrupted. "I'm the one who should be sorry. This isn't fair to you. Or to him."

Jimin stood, creating space between them. "You should call him," he said quietly. "Talk to him."

The practical suggestion, so characteristic of Jimin—putting her needs first even when it hurt him—made Y/N's chest tighten with conflicted emotion.

"I need to figure out what I want," she said honestly.

"I think you already know," Jimin replied with a sad smile. "You've always known." He gathered his tools. "I'll check on the pipe tomorrow. Make sure it's holding."

After he left, Y/N sat in her quiet studio, mind reeling. Her phone showed a missed call from Taehyung and a text: Can't talk tonight. Big breakthrough with the producers. Call tomorrow? Miss you.

She stared at the message, feeling further from certainty than ever before.

---

The regional photography competition judging day arrived amid this emotional turbulence. Y/N had almost forgotten about it until Jimin texted that morning: Good luck today. Your work deserves recognition.

No mention of the kiss, no pressure—just support, as always. Y/N hadn't seen him since that night, both of them creating distance to think. She hadn't told Taehyung about the kiss either, unsure how to navigate the confession over video calls and text messages.

The competition was held at the central library's exhibition hall. Y/N arrived early, nervously checking her appearance before entering the crowded space. Photographs from all entrants lined the walls, grouped by theme interpretation. She found her series displayed prominently in a well-lit corner, which she took as a positive sign.

As she examined the other entries, Y/N was struck by the quality of the competition—powerful images telling compelling stories. Her confidence wavered slightly as she realized how many talented photographers had entered.

"Intimidating, isn't it?" said a familiar voice behind her.

Y/N turned to find Jungkook, the photographer from the Harbor Gallery, examining a dramatic landscape series.

"The talent level is higher than I expected," she admitted.

Jungkook nodded. "Regional competitions often are. The truly ambitious ones skipped straight to national contests, leaving space for thoughtful work rather than technical showboating."

Y/N studied him curiously. She'd seen his byline on the gallery article—a thoughtful piece that had given her work more consideration than she'd expected—but hadn't crossed paths with him since.

"Do you enter these competitions?" she asked.

"Sometimes." He gestured to a striking series of industrial landscapes on the adjacent wall. "When I have something worth saying."

Before Y/N could respond, an announcement called for all entrants to gather for the judges' introduction. She excused herself, joining the nervous crowd of photographers.

The head judge, a renowned photojournalist named Park Seojoon, spoke briefly about the competition's purpose before introducing the judging panel. Y/N's attention sharpened when he mentioned the final judge—a last-minute addition to the panel.

"And finally, we're grateful to have Jeon Jungkook joining us, representing East Coast Arts Monthly and bringing his unique perspective on visual narrative."

Y/N turned in surprise to see Jungkook taking his place at the judges' table. He caught her eye briefly, his expression professional and unreadable.

The judging process would take several hours, with results announced that afternoon. Photographers were encouraged to stay and network, or return later for the announcement.

Y/N decided to remain, using the opportunity to study the competing work and connect with other local artists. Throughout the day, she occasionally noticed Jungkook with the other judges, moving methodically through the exhibition, engaged in serious discussion about various pieces. His demeanor was focused and analytical—clearly taking the responsibility seriously.

By late afternoon, the judges had made their decisions. Park Seojoon took the microphone again, thanking everyone for their patience.

"Photography is subjective," he began. "What moves one person may leave another cold. What we look for is work that challenges perspective, that makes the viewer see differently."

He announced the honorable mentions first, then third place, then second. Y/N's name hadn't been called, and she felt a complicated mix of disappointment and relief. At least she could leave without the awkwardness of accepting an award from a panel that included someone she barely knew.

"And our first place winner," Park Seojoon continued, "for a series that eloquently captures the dissonance between memory and reality, the winner of the Perspective Shift Photography Competition is Y/N, for the series 'Return.'"

The room erupted in applause. Y/N stood frozen in shock before making her way to the front. Park Seojoon handed her an elegant crystal award and an envelope containing details about her feature in East Coast Arts Monthly.

"The judges were particularly moved by your ability to create images that feel simultaneously familiar and unsettling," he explained. "Your work invites viewers to reconsider their relationship with nostalgia."

As Y/N shook hands with each judge, Jungkook's grip was firm and professional. "Congratulations," he said simply, no hint of their earlier conversation in his formal tone.

After the ceremony, as photographers and attendees mingled over refreshments, Y/N found herself approached by various gallery owners and potential clients. The win had immediately raised her profile in the regional arts community.

She was speaking with an arts council representative when her phone vibrated with a call from Taehyung. With a pang of guilt, she realized she hadn't told him about the competition today.

"Excuse me," she said to the representative. "I need to take this."

Finding a quiet corner, she answered, "Taehyung, hi."

"Y/N!" His voice was excited. "I've got incredible news. The producers want to extend the project. They're offering a six-month contract with potential for a permanent position afterward."

"Six months?" Y/N echoed, struggling to process the implications.

"It's what I've been working toward for years," Taehyung continued. "National distribution, creative control, resources to bring my music to life properly."

"That's... amazing, Tae. Congratulations." The words felt hollow in her mouth.

"There's more," he said, either not noticing or ignoring her hesitation. "They have connections with major photography publications here. I mentioned your work, and they're interested. This could be huge for both of us."

The offer hung between them—unspoken but clear. Come to Seoul. Choose this path. Choose me.

"I won a photography competition today," Y/N said abruptly. "Regional one. My work's going to be featured in East Coast Arts Monthly."

"What? Y/N, that's incredible!" Taehyung's genuine enthusiasm made her chest tight. "Why didn't you tell me it was today?"

"You've been busy," she said simply. "And I wasn't sure I'd win."

"But you did," Taehyung said proudly. "I knew you would. We should celebrate when I'm back next week."

"About that..." Y/N took a deep breath. "I think we need to talk, Tae. About us. About the future."

A pause, then his voice, more subdued: "Because of the Seoul opportunity?"

"Because of a lot of things."

Another silence stretched between them. "I understand," Taehyung finally said. "We'll talk when I'm back. Properly."

After they disconnected, Y/N stood motionless, staring at her phone. The competition win, which should have been a moment of pure triumph, now felt complicated by the looming conversation with Taehyung and her unresolved feelings for Jimin.

As she prepared to leave, she noticed Jungkook gathering his belongings at the judges' table.

"Congratulations again," he said as she approached. "Your series was the clear winner."

"Thank you," Y/N replied. "I was surprised to see you on the judging panel."

"Last-minute replacement." He shrugged. "Someone from the magazine had to be here, and I know the local scene."

Y/N nodded, suddenly curious. "Can I ask—what made my series stand out to you, specifically?"

Jungkook considered the question seriously. "Most photographers trying to capture nostalgia focus on making things look better than they were—golden light, soft focus, idealized compositions." He met her gaze directly. "You did the opposite. You showed the discomfort of return—how nothing quite fits anymore, how memory distorts, how growth changes perspective."

The insight struck Y/N deeply. He had articulated something she'd felt but hadn't fully formulated herself.

"Thank you," she said again, with more meaning. "That's... perceptive."

Jungkook gave a small nod. "Someone from the magazine will be in touch about the feature." He hesitated, then added, "If you have questions about the national photography scene, feel free to reach out. I work with publications beyond the regional level."

With that, he excused himself, leaving Y/N with his business card and the strange feeling that the day had shifted something fundamental in her path forward.

Later that evening, alone in her apartment with her award on the coffee table, Y/N's phone lit up with a text from Jimin: Heard about your win from Hoseok. So proud of you. Always knew your vision was special.

She traced her fingers over the words, heart aching with the complexity of her feelings. On her laptop screen, open flight searches to Seoul waited for a decision. The crystal award caught the last light of day, fracturing it into patterns across her walls—beautiful but impossible to hold onto.

[shefu-choice]

Elevated dinner with viski rolling Decanter 🍷Elegant & unique.

[kabr0ztrousers]

another clown phobia writing idea

woman is shocked to find the man she has a crush on works part time as a carnival clown but after he convinces her to spend a few hours in the red nose herself that fear becomes a fetish

Kabr0z Writes episode 43: Getting Into the Nose

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: clown makeup; giving oral;

A/N: Oh boy, another clownfucking episode... Ah well, I say I'll try to make every request happen and so I shall; this challenge is about making porn, not languishing in my comfort zone!

On the subject of making requests happen, the queue right now is at 11, which is actually up from yesterday! There's never a better time to send something in

####################################

You knew he had a second job, he wasn't great at hiding it, but you never thought it'd be like this. He always had money that you couldn't place where it came from, was out a lot at the weekends on those long walks he was always so defensive over, so naturally you assumed he was dealing drugs or something and you followed him. You wouldn't be happy about him slinging hash to teenagers, or even meth.

Christ, you wished it was meth.

You'd tailed him for a few miles until he parked at a self-storage, and waited until he came out, carrying a gym bag under one arm before getting back in his car and driving on. He clearly wasn't expecting to be tailed, or just never noticed you. Following him to the suburbs was too easy. He parked up outside a house and you could see activity in the driver's seat. You kept watching.

The door opened.

A clown got out of the car, checked his pockets, and walked into the house. Even under the wig and facepaint, he was unmistakably your husband.

You gunned the car and drove home. Sitting on a chair in the lounge, you waited for him.

It was hours before you heard his car pull into the driveway. You were two and a half glasses deep into a box of wine, staring at the door.

He walked in to the room "Why's it so quiet? How about you put the TV on while I freshen up"

You glared at him. He paused, looking quizzically at you

"Are you OK?" He came closer. You could see the remains of white facepaint on him, in the creases of his eyes, the recesses around his nostrils, a little on his collar

"You're a clown, aren't you?" Your voice quivered, the anger and hatred of clowns colouring it

He blanched. Turning almost as white as the makeup remnants on him. "I- I knew you wouldn't understand" he stammered "It's not doing anyone any harm, I just wanted to get a little extra cash, and it's not as though I haven't been spending most of it on you"

You stifled a sigh as you deflated a little. He had you there, you didn't question where the money was coming from when you were spending it. But is it bad you kind of wanted it to be illegal? Being partners in crime seemed so much more dramatic than your husband being a children's entertainer...

He could see you thinking. "It's not a bad way to spend an afternoon, it's more fun than you think" He caught your quizzical look and continued "Tell you what, you come to the lockup with me now, we'll workshop a look for you, then if you like you can tag along and join in!"

You wanted to be mad at him. Really, you did. But even you had to admit it felt a bit silly. "Why didn't you tell me this was what you were up to?"

You arrived at the storage place again. A big warehouse, the interior parted out into 10 by 10 foot cubes. You followed up a flight of stairs and down a fluorescent lit corridor to a door, identical to all the others. He unlocked it and you stepped in.

Racks of brightly coloured clothes stood on each side of the room, along with full-length mirrors and a vanity table with a seat in front

"OK" he sat you in front of the mirror "Make-up's as good a place to start as any, there's three kinds of clowns: whiteface clowns are the old-style Pagliacci looking ones, Auguste are still quite a lot but focusing more on elevating features and without the base-coat, and character clowns are everything else, so clown Elvis, clown Tinkerbell, all of that. What would you want to try first?"

You talked through a dozen ideas before settling on a classic whiteface design, with some pinks and purples to bring out your eyes and cheekbones. Then it was clothing. He was like a hurricane, giddily picking out pieces and holding them against your body. Blues, purples, reds, yellows, you settled on a red and blue scheme, and he helped you into the outfit.

The final touch was the hair. He pulled a wig cap onto you then followed with a blue wig, primping the shoulder-length corkscrew curls so they lay to his satisfaction.

You stepped to the mirror. Staring back at you was a clown. You turned this way and that, taking in your transformation. You had to admit, you loved the attention he was giving you, and getting to join in with this hobby he was so passionate about... It reminded you why you married this man, gleefully standing behind you.

"It's... Wonderful" You turned and hugged him, pressing him against you.

Next he wanted to teach you some clowning, basic stuff like how to properly throw or take a paper plate full of whipped cream, how to pratfall without hurting yourself, nothing requiring too much preparation. You couldn't help but laugh as you clowned around with him.

The feeling of the facepaint, the swish of the clothes, how every new trick or move came with a warmup of silly jokes or trust falls, spending time together and laughing so hard your face hurt. You could see why he liked it so much.

You collapsed onto one another, giggling and cuddling. You kissed him, smudging the lipstick he so carefully applied to you earlier before sliding down.

Unbuttoning his fly, you stuck a hand down his trousers, feeling his cock respond as you grabbed it. You pulled it free and stuffed the semi-hard meat into your mouth, feeling it pulse and rise. He sat back, legs open as you knelt in front of him, head bobbing, tongue running over every inch of his cock as it slurped in and out of your mouth.

He started to groan and you sped up, you could taste his arousal as he held the back of your head, using your face like a fleshlight as his precum started to leak out onto your tongue. You knew the best part of his cock to focus on, the underside, just where the head meets the shaft, the oh-so-sentitive part which made him groan every time your tongue darted over it until it got too much for him.

His fingers tightened in your wig as he came, almost pulling it off. His cock pulsed in your mouth, spurt after spurt of salty cum flowing over your tongue as you greedily swallowed it down. He wasn't trying to be quiet, but you figured if anyone could hear anything, they'd have said something earlier.

You sucked the last of his cum off him, licking and kissing his cock as it softened, tucking it away.

The drive home was much less frosty, the earlier upset forgotten, and the taste of him still on your lips

You still probably weren't going to join in with the whole entertainment business, but you definitely had fun

################################

It has to be said, at 1am and after a couple of rewrites, I'm still not too happy with how this one shook out. Hopefully it's not too much of a disappointment, Anon, but clowns simply don't do it for me.

Of course, if anyone has any requests, I'll still endeavour to make them happen, my asks and DMs remain open and I'm always happy to get new ideas

[lecavistblog]

How to Store Wine Properly & Recognise a Good Wine

Wine is a delicate beverage that requires proper storage to maintain its flavour, aroma, and overall quality. Whether you are a casual wine enthusiast or a dedicated collector, understanding the right way to store wine ensures that every bottle you open is enjoyed at its best. Additionally, knowing how to recognise a good wine is crucial in making the right selection. In this article, we will explore the best wine storage practices and the key steps to recognise a good wine.

The Importance of Proper Wine Storage

Storing wine correctly is essential to preserve its integrity. Wine is highly sensitive to temperature fluctuations, light exposure, and humidity levels. Improper storage can lead to spoilage, oxidation, and loss of flavour. Here are some key tips on how to store wine properly:

1. Keep Wine at a Consistent Temperature

The ideal storage temperature for wine is between 10°C and 18°C. Extreme temperature fluctuations can damage the wine, leading to premature ageing or spoilage.

2. Store Wine Bottles Horizontally

If your wine has a cork, store it on its side to keep the cork moist. A dry cork can shrink and allow air to seep in, which may cause oxidation and spoil the wine.

3. Limit Light Exposure

Ultraviolet (UV) rays from direct sunlight can break down the delicate compounds in wine, affecting its flavour and aroma. Store wine in a dark place or in a UV-protected wine cabinet.

4. Maintain Proper Humidity Levels

The recommended humidity level for wine storage is between 50% and 70%. Too much humidity can cause mould growth, while low humidity can dry out the corks.

5. Avoid Vibrations

Constant movement or vibrations can disturb the wine’s sediment and affect its ageing process. Keep wine in a stable, vibration-free environment.

6. Choose the Right Storage Location

Steps to Recognise a Good Wine

Once you have mastered wine storage, it is equally important to know how to recognise a good wine. Whether you are buying a bottle for yourself or as a gift, these steps will help you evaluate the quality of a wine before making a purchase.

1. Examine the Appearance

Hold the glass up to the light and observe the colour and clarity. A good wine should be clear and vibrant. White wines develop a golden hue as they age, while red wines become richer in colour.

2. Assess the Aroma

Swirl the wine in the glass and take a deep sniff. A high-quality wine will have a complex bouquet of aromas, ranging from fruity and floral notes to earthy and spicy undertones.

3. Taste and Evaluate Balance

Take a sip and let the wine coat your palate. A good wine should have a balanced combination of acidity, sweetness, tannins, and alcohol. No single element should overpower the others.

4. Check the Finish

The finish refers to the aftertaste that lingers once you have swallowed the wine. A good wine will have a smooth, pleasant, and lasting finish, indicating its complexity and quality.

5. Look for Structure and Depth

Quality wines have depth and structure, meaning their flavours evolve as you sip. A well-structured wine offers multiple layers of taste, making it more enjoyable.

Conclusion

Proper wine storage plays a vital role in preserving the quality and character of your favourite bottles. By following the best storage practices, you can ensure that your wine remains in peak condition for years to come. Additionally, knowing the steps to recognise a good wine helps you make informed choices when selecting a bottle. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced wine lover, these insights will enhance your wine-drinking experience and appreciation.

More information visit here — https://lecavist.com/blogs/news/how-to-store-wine-properly

[64yrsold]

ACHES 25. spilled

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (24)

I stooped to our vinyl collection, running my fingers over the puzzle-piece edges of each jacket. I picked one with worn-down edges, a destructive show of love, and pulled out the vinyl. I placed it on his record player, remembering that mine– which I had toted around since college– was lonely in storage somewhere. Then, my favorite part, the ritualistic dropping of the needle. The satisfying pop as it connected with the record, the empty noise, and then a beautiful serenade playing through his extravagant speakers. Usually this sound was enough to draw him out of whatever he had sunk into; a book, his laptop, a movie. The piano. His guitar. Even sleep.

“Where are you, baby?” I called, walking through the hallways and peeking into each room. I found him in the bedroom, curled into the armrest of the corner chair, chewing a fingernail. His face was pale and blue-tinged from his computer. His eyes flicked violently over the screen.

“Hey,” I walked over to him, kissing the top of his head, “You busy?”

“Sorry,” he murmured, entranced by the endless text on his screen. He sighed, switching to an open email and typing a few sentences.

“You know,” I brought my lips to his ear, his curls flicking against my cheekbones, “It’s awfully lonely out there.”

He chuckled, typing a few more words.

“And,” I nudged his cheek with my nose, “I’m trying to finish this bottle of wine all by myself.”

He took a deep breath.

“It’s very hard,” I purred, trailing a hand over his stiff shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He didn’t look at me. He didn’t kiss my cheek.

“I put our record on.” A last effort. 

He hummed, something between thank you and go away. I could feel my heart tighten, and took a step back.

“Okay.” I turned sharply, stepping out of the room. I was tempted to slam the door. I clasped my hands together, walking to our living room, alone. I sat on the couch for a moment, breathing and listening to the last song on side A. I stared at my bare feet, thinking about how we had ended up here. I ruminated, thrashing, intrusive, and ugly thoughts clouding my head. I thought maybe he didn’t love me anymore. I thought maybe he had finally given up. I thought I deserved better. I thought I didn’t deserve anything at all.

I poured generously into my glass, the air stinging with the smell of raspberry wine. It made my stomach turn, the sweetness of it, but I sipped anyway. I flipped the record, sitting back on the couch, my thoughts slowly falling from me like sand. The lost weight was a relief.

By the time I had shelved the vinyl, I was working on another glass, proud I had finished the bottle all by myself. It tasted nice, now. I opened another.

My skin was thrumming with heat, the white noise of my pulse in my ears pulling me to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep, I wanted to stay up and wait for him, because he would be here soon, he wouldn’t leave me for a whole night, he would want to know how I was, he would check in on me. He would. I fell asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he was shaking my shoulder, “Wake up, you’ve spilled here.”

I blinked, everything out of focus, and saw my glass held loosely between two fingers, dripping wine down the couch to the floor.

“Shit,” I groaned, still drunk, setting my glass on the coffee table and trying to soak up the spill with the sleeve of my sweater. 

He caught my wrist, “Just let me.” He walked off to the kitchen, making some concoction of hydrogen peroxide and dish soap, then returning to scrub the couch with the solution. I sat uselessly beside the stain, feeling red and stupid. He rolled up his sleeves, soaking a bristled brush with the stain remover, scrubbing with a crease between his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, throat tightening as I watched him scrub faster. His curls shook on his forehead at the force of it.

“It’s okay,” he sighed, rinsing the brush, “You didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry,” I chewed at my cheek. 

The brush frothed as he dug in deeper. 

“What time is it?” I was embarrassed at how the words slurred together. It didn’t sound much like me.

“It’s around two in the morning,” he huffed, finished with the stain. He stood, back to the kitchen, dumping out the solution. I listened to the faucet drip slowly, and his feet shuffling down the hallway. I laid back into the couch, silent tears tugging down my cheeks.

-> next (26)

[iamarealkat]

SECOND COURSE - KITCHEN

(or at least the main parts i recognized)

mads mikkelsen and lydia hearst for "euroman", april 2010 by kenneth willardt.

1. GE Monogram 36" Rangetop

First up, the rangetop. Unlike a cooktop, which sets into a pre-cut space in a counter or island, a rangetop overflows the sides and extends beyond the boundaries of the counter with front-facing knobs. This unit in particular is the GE Monogram 36" Rangetop (ZGU366NPSS), with an MSRP of $3400, reversible grates, and six 18,000 BTU power boil burners.

2. 30" GE Monogram Tri-Zone Counter Depth Integrated Refrigerator

Next, a dual installation of 30" GE Monogram Tri-Zone Counter-Depth Integrated Refrigerators (ZIC30GNHIl, shown with optional custom panels for seamless appearance). With an MSRP of $6999 each, these units are made more shallow, known in the industry as counter-depth, to integrate properly with standard cabinetry. Featuring fridge, freezer, and convertible middle-drawer climate zones, this unit has a capacity of 14.09 cu. ft. overall, per unit. It has two separate sealed systems for constant temperature control, and uses the first HFC-Free refrigerant, which has a lower global-warming impact.

3. 30" GE Monogram European Convection Double Wall Oven

A 30" GE Monogram European Convection Double Wall Oven (ZET2SHSS). An MSRP of $5300, with two 5.0 cu. ft. capacity oven cavities. With easy-to-clean all-glass interior door panels, both self-clean and steam-clean options, ten-pass baking elements, and two True European Convection ovens, these units boast convection bake and roast features with closed-door broiling as to not overheat a kitchen, and a built-in temperature probe for perfectly cooked roasts. It also offers a proof mode to assist dough-rising for avid bakers, convection conversion as to not overcook standard recipes, can be monitored remotely with use of a smart phone and GE's WiFi Connect app, and is programmable in both Celsius and Fahrenheit.

4. GE Monogram 240v Built In Oven with Advantium Speedcook Technology

Behold, the GE Monogram 240v Built In Oven with Advantium Speedcook Technology (ZSC2201JSS).

This bad chicken has an MSRP of $3200 and has settings for Speedcook, microwave, convection, and warming. What the hell is Speedcook? It's a combination of microwaves and convection, delivering results up to eight times faster than conventional cooking, and without the need for pre-heating. This thing can reheat, microwave, toast, brown, bake, and gently warm to your heart's content, and has the ability to remember custom recipes.

5. 30" GE Monogram Warming Drawer

Next up, the 30" GE Monogram Warming Drawer (ZW9000SJSS). With an MSRP of $1600, this drawer has a 1.9 cu. ft. capacity, and has variable temperature settings of anything from 75*F to 230*F, and humidity controls from crisp to moist. Gross. It also has a half-rack so you can store more on the inside, and has ball-bearing glides so it pulls out and closes smoothly while making that soothing whoosh noise.

6. 24" GE Monogram Undercabinet Wine Reserve

We also have the 24" GE Monogram Undercabinet Wine Reserve (ZDWR240HBS). With a cool MSRP of $2000, undercabinet wine refrigerators are notoriously tricky because of their front-facing venting needs. If you suffocate refrigerators, even small ones, (like humans) they die.

This fridge features cooling settings suitable to red or white wines, full-extension sliding racks with both horizontal and vertical storage, and has a capacity of 5.5 cu. ft, or 57 bottles.

Hannibal also, apparently, does not believe in dishwashers-panel-ready, drawer-style or otherwise.

What he does believe in? Is coffee, apparently:

7. Royal Paris Vacuum Balancing Coffee Siphon by Royal Coffee Maker

This, dear Fannibals, is a Royal Paris Vacuum Balancing Coffee Siphon, specifically noted by Bryan Fuller to be crafted by Royal Coffee Maker.

Handmade by artisans with affordable materials such as genuine Baccarat Crystal, malachite, copper, obsidian, azurite, and plating of silver and 24k gold, these start at the low, low price of approximately $15,500.

Hannibal's model is the Royal Classic finished in silver, on a Piano Black base. It is, perhaps surprisingly or unsurprisingly, the most tasteful and least ostentatious of all available models.

This brings the approximate total of all Hannibal's kitchen appliances, plus or minus a few of the minor ones, to $45,000.

8. Additionally in his stolen borrowed home in Florence: La Cornue 43" CornuFé Range

In 1908, in the heart of Paris, Albert Dupuy ignited the flame of elite cuisine. It was there that Dupuy premiered the world's first convection oven. At the time, most ovens were mere flat-topped cavities that held racks suspended over a fire. The majority of people simply considered cooking to be heating food to eat. But Dupuy pondered: "What does it really mean to cook?" He developed his oven with a vaulted ceiling to usher heat around the food, rather than trapping it to burn beneath. To enable optimum precision, the oven drew upon the city gas lines that were winding their way to homes and street lamps throughout the City of Light. Dupuy christened the oven La Cornue after the French term cornue - the system for refining the gas that warmed the new creation.

Each range is made by hand and the labor is intensive. Each worker is a specialist, understanding the greater goal.

However they are not just craftsmen, but companions to each range along its journey from inception to crated final product. They are experts in steel, copper and brass, inspired by great design, working as a team to create an inspired tradition.

True excellence can only be achieved when every step in the process is in pursuit of perfection.

For over 100 years, La Cornue has continued to build upon Albert's initial convection innovation and they've expanded the designs and introduced new styles. As a result, the name La Cornue is supposed to represent a renowned spirit.

Hannibal's version runs about $10,000.