miniature living room

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I’ve decided to finally add a miniature furniture & decor line to my etsy, ever since starting on this tiny home journey last year. So this week was focused primarily on plants, and I plan on moving onto furniture and mini pets next week ^_^

You can see my current collection here, and everything is 1:12 inch scale so it can be added to your modern dollhouse, or just displayed on an empty shelf nook like how I do :P

art; seokjin (one)

art is so many things, including him.

pairing: chaebol! seokjin | reader.

genre: fluff (and eventually angst and smut)

warnings: none.

words: 4.1K

author’s note: this is my first post on this blog, so i’m kind of nervous, hehe. i hope you all sincerely enjoy this scenario, along with the rest of the parts that are in the making! i also hope you will enjoy reading my future writing on this blog. please don’t hesitate to give feedback, i love reading what you guys think of what i’ve written! i would like to thank writers like @floralseokjin, @jungkxook, @jungblue, @taeverie, @itsrainingmin, @sugajpg and so many writers on here for being my inspirations when it comes to writing and encouraging me to post on this blog, love you all~~ here’s to my first post and many more! happy reading x

Originally posted by rapdaegu



What is art?


 Art is a form of expression; a chance to strive in expressing hidden emotions and to express feelings. Art allows the stresses and worries of today’s world to be the fuel for the burning, live fire that burns with inspiration, feelings, secrets, and dreams.


 Art is a matter of opinion. No one can put a value on it. This is ultimately all up to a person’s own belief and opinion. Artists splatter oils paints, stab their canvas, do all kinds of things, and call it art. It expresses something about them, whether it be their dark past demons, or slow road to recovery, it’s art in their mind and the opinions of others can’t make them think anything else.


 Art is about appreciating. People value different works different ways. Some value the amount of time spent completing the finished product, some appreciate the hard work put into the making of the art, and some recognise the message they get when looking at art.


 Art is a challenge to the sense. Art is history, alternative worlds and universes, creation, frustration, desperation, understanding of other perspectives, spirituality, philosophy, beauty, relationships, theory, the unimaginable, fantasy, and so many other things that we humans can’t even begin to count.


 Art is the paint stains on hands, the flowers in hair, the scribbled words on paper, the design of clothing, the melodies of music, the curves of sculptures and the flash of a recording camera.


 You are in love with art. You’re in love with every nock and cranny that comes along with it, be it writer’s block or accidentally using the wrong shade of blue on a painting. You live for the creation of something new, something old, something personal, something unique. Hours upon hours are spent consumed within this art. Painting, sculpting, designing, writing, drawing; those are all your comfort source that ease your untamed thoughts or provide release for thoughts too chaotic that it drives you crazy. It’s rare, if not impossible, to not see you completely absorbed into the melodious sounds of music flowing into your ears or painting a perfect picture of the city before you with the brushes of your trusty pencil.


 It’s a scary thought that people aren’t as obsessed with art as you are, how they live their days without creating something with their hands or brain. It makes you feel alone and out of place. However, what’s more scarier to think is that a single person can smash your belief of being alone and strange and turn your whole world upside down, how they can just smile and make you feel like you have someone right beside you, that it’s okay to be different, and that it’s okay to be you.


 Moreover, it’s terrifying, petrifying even, that you can love someone as much as you did him; your muse. 



The sounds of Paramore blasting from your phone nearby are cut off, the mobile device vibrating against the desk with a buzz, indicating someone is calling you.


 This is really not the time.


 You sigh in frustration, removing your paintbrush from the untouched canvas that you were just about to start brushing with colour. You dunk the paintbrush into a water jar carelessly, picking your phone and sliding your paint stained fingers to accept the call.


 "Hey, Venus,“ her voice sounds just as sweet as it does in real life over the phone. "Did I wake you? Interrupt something?”


 It’s Monday, around about eight in the morning, and instead of sleeping in like you usually did to get some well-needed shut-eye for your part-time job in the evening, the desire to paint nagged at you for so long that you couldn’t stop tossing and turning in bed, your mind running wild with ideas and thoughts that kept you wide awake and unable to sleep. Two hours passed by, and those thoughts were circulating in your mind continuously, anticipating the moment to be jotted down onto a canvas and by then, you already knew you weren’t going to get a wink of sleep and decided then and there to get up and paint.


  “I was just about to start painting,” you speak again before Rosé can apologise for disturbing you. “But, please, continue. What’s up?”


You take a seat down on the stool before your canvas, your eyes glued to the object as your mind envisions the picture inside your head coming alive.


“I need to ask you a favour,” Rosé asks, her voice soft and quiet before she timidly clears her throat. “You know that yellow envelope I left at your place a few days ago?”


Your head instantly turns towards your coffee table in your miniature living room, the dull yellow package neatly displayed amongst the messy, cut-out art magazines that lay beside it. A few days ago, Rosé came over to your apartment early one night for some much needed girl time since the two of you didn’t speak much, or at all on some occasions, due to your schedules that worked in a way to keep you apart.


  You caught up on each other’s lives over cheap wine and spent the rest of the night drooling over the main character in all the dramas on TV. It reminded of you of when you two were back in high school (minus the alcohol), when times were simpler and the burdens of adulthood weren’t as heavy as they are now.


Eventually, your ‘Hwarang’ marathon was going to be postponed for another night as the clock struck 11Pm. Reluctantly, you let Rosé leave your apartment, arranging another girl’s night the next coming week before watching her walk down the hallway of your apartment building and disappear. It was only when she was already home did Rosé realise she left the envelope at your place, the document left deserted on the coffee table.


 "Yeah,“ you answer, standing up from your stool and walking over to the envelope. "Should I bring it to you?”


“Actually, I was wondering if you could deliver it to my boss because I’m on bed rest since the whole twisting my ankle thing happened on Saturday,” Rosé speaks so quietly, her voice filled with so much uncertainty and doubt that it takes a few seconds for her barely audible words to register. You blink repeatedly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you cast a glance at the empty canvas not too far away.


The thing is, the surge of inspiration you felt in the morning was long overdue. Weeks ago, you came across an ad on your apartment building’s notice board as you were just leaving for another night of work, the ad calling out for all artists and their works that had the chance of being featured in a new exhibition in one of your city’s biggest art galleries. Not one to pass up an opportunity, you submitted the best of your works, ones that you bared your soul creating, ones that had a valuable and personal story to them, and ones that took days upon days to complete. You felt proud submitting the works of art, impressed with how you could create something from absolutely nothing, and make it beautiful.


 Days later, you got the message saying that the organisers would be honoured to have your art featured in their gallery


 Honoured.


This one word fuelled a burning passion of inspiration and determination within you, your hands having a mind of their own as they tirelessly painted endless amounts of canvas, and moulded clay sculptures that were highly requested by the organisers of the exhibition. The ideas and techniques of constructing sculptures and painting canvas flowed out of you effortlessly, countless empty canvases hanging all around your apartment with your artistic visions proudly displayed on it. It seemed as though your inspiration would never run dry, that would finish all your five pieces of art for the exhibition and finally showcase what you were capable of doing as an artist.


 But, just quickly as that surge of electrifying coursed through your body, it died out, leaving your fingertips to barely spark because they had run out of inspiration. The motivation to create had gone with the wind, rendering you helpless and bitterly cold without the warmth art provided to you. For the next two weeks, you would spend your time browsing the creation of others in various galleries you visited, attempting to unlock the door that led to insane creativity and inspiration that you desperately needed since the deadline for the exhibition was fast approaching.


 Despite the drastic and desperate measures taken to find inspiration, you were never able to unlock whatever motivation and ideas were stored in your head, and were left falling continuously into a habit of starting your last painting the same way you finished them; staring at the blank canvas, blinking and blinking, the clock ticking away with no image still in mind to paint, and eventually abandoning the project all together because of the headaches you would acquire from staring at something so white, so blinding, for long periods of time.


You had been waiting for inspiration, and it finally came, and you are so unsure of whether it will remain or abandon you at any moment. It’s a risky situation, and you don’t know what you should do, or what can you say, but Rosé beats you to it. “You don’t have to, if you’re busy. I can ask Jinyoung to—”


“It’s okay,” you interrupt her without meaning to, turning your back to the canvas that calls your name. “I will deliver it.”


Rosé squeals into the phone and you try and contain a laugh, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hear Rosé say, “thank you, thank you, thank you so much! You’re a star, Venus!”


For the first time during your brief conversation, you crimson at the nickname she insists on calling you. “No problem, Rosé. I’ll deliver it after I get myself ready.”


“Sounds like a plan,” Rosé confirms with a giggle. “Thank you so much for doing this. I owe you.”


Your calls ends, and you let out another sigh, blatantly ignoring the calls that grow louder and louder as you distance yourself from your canvas, shutting your bedroom door behind you to silence the calls all together.  



The sun rays kiss your skin delicately, the sounds of cars zooming past you and the hammering of expensive shoes hitting the pavement echoes in your ears — but you pay them no attention as your eyes are glued to the large, if not the largest, office building you’ve seen. All the lights are on, figures of busy women and men whizzing past the windows, while the large screen stuck to the roof proudly showcases the large company the office building belonged to.


The successful cellphone company has been around for as long as you have roamed the earth, probably even longer since you heard stories from your parents that owned phones belonging to the company during their day. During those days, you recall that the company wasn’t all that famous, and was mainly for the citizens of your country. But, with the technology getting better and better, the company grew into this monster of a multinational monopoly company that dominates both domestically and internationally, drawing in only the most famous of people to advertise their products and turning the company into a trillion dollar business.


Only the best of the best were employed by the company, taken under the wing of current CEO, Kim Hyungshin and educated on how the company ran and how they could possibly, if they tried hard enough, become a billionaire like him. Unsurprisingly, Rosé ended up joining the company fresh out of college since she was amongst the best students in the entire country majoring in technological studies, already having a spectacular platform to step on into the adult world as she left school for good, unlike yourself who still had three years of college ahead of you, drowning in unpaid tuition fees and being forced to dropout because college became too expensive for your family who didn’t have much to begin with.


With a gulp, you build up the courage to walk into the building, walking alongside men and women clad in the finest of material for suits and office wear, their attire putting your paint splattered overalls and cute beret to shame. You consider it a miracle that you make it inside the building with the way you’re dressed, but you don’t ponder on that long as your eyes enlarge at the interior design of the building that resembles something out of a drama, with their squeaky clean floors and futuristic design that has you questioning if you’ve stepped into the future.


 “May I help you with something?” A voice removes you from standing in the middle of your thoughts, bringing you back to reality as you turn your head into the direction of its source and immediately feel your self-esteem drop.


She is damn near perfect, there’s no doubt in your mind about tha. She is the type of beautiful that artists love to paint, because her beauty is so overwhelming and rare that it needs to be captured and appreciated for generations. She’s perfectly proportionate with long blonde hair that falls down to her shoulders like a waterfall, and wears her pencil skirt and blouse with such grace and elegance that can’t help but feel intimidated by her.


  “Um, yes,” you stammer as your cheeks flush in embarrassment of staring too long. “I’m here to deliver this envelope to Mr. Kim Hyungshin,”


She casts you a look, her eyes taking in your almost childish appearance compared to hers and you suddenly begin to feel so, so small under her intense gaze.


 “His assistant, Rosé, is my best friend, and she asked me to deliver this because she twisted her ankle.” You explain to save yourself from being thrown out by the tough security guards by the doors that are already watching you very closely.


 “Rosé twisted her ankle?” Her eyes are large, her small hot pink lips part in shock. You nod in confirmation. “Tell her Irene says get better soon, okay?”


“Of course,” you smile, feeling the atmosphere becoming light-hearted.


“Follow me to my desk please, I’ll call up Mr. Kim,” Irene politely asks, turning on her four inch heels and walking towards the vacant reception desk, you lagging behind because you’re still in disbelief that she can walk around in those heels.


She presses a button on the phone and reaches for the handle over the counter, the phone over her ear as she waits for a response. Deciding you’ve stared quite enough at Irene, your curious eyes scan the place, discovering men and women around you age walking in and out of the building, some carrying coffee in their hands while talking with a friend beside them and some shaking hands with very expensive looking men. However, what really strikes is you that everyone is so happy. Not one person doesn’t have a smile on their face, minus the security guards that are paid to look intimidating, but even you can’t miss the slight curve of their lips as their hawk-like eyes observe everyone.


  “Yes, Mr. Kim, I’m here with a friend of Rosé, she is here to deliver a package Rosé was supposed to give you,” Irene informs her boss, and your heart begins to thump in your chest. “You want to know the colour of the package?”


Your eyebrows furrow at such a question. Why would he want to know what colour it was? “It’s yellow.”


A few moments later, you hear Irene speak again, “of course, sir. She’ll be there right away.” and the conversation ends.


 Irene turns to you, her gaze soft compared to the first few seconds she met you. “Mr. Kim Hyungshin works on the last floor, which is the 16th floor. Remember to knock on his door before entering,”


“He wants me to give it to him personally?” You question and Irene nods.


 “He wants to ask you a few questions, I think,” you gulp.


 Irene escorts you to the elevator, giving a comforting pat on the shoulder before you enter and she leaves back to her desk. Your hand visibly shakes as your finger presses the button 16, but before the doors can close, two men are dashing towards the elevator.


 “Hold the door, please!” One of the men with darker hair calls out, your finger quick to jab the button that opens the elevator doors again and allows them to step inside with a huff.


 The men that step inside are tall and handsome, wearing casual business clothes that you’re certain cost more than your life. One of them is dressed in Gucci from head to toe with facial features that are knee-weakening and fierce all at once, while the other one with darker brown hair, the one who called out for you to hold the doors, is dressed more casually, but still looks like a million dollars.


 “Thank you,” the one with darker hair beams brightly to you, and your eyes are forced to blink a few times because of how bright his smile is.


 You nod in acknowledgment, hoping to the heavens above that the two can’t hear the beat of your heart as the elevator doors close.


 The one dressed in Gucci from head to toe steps forward from his original position, leaning way close to you as he presses the 15th button. You watch his every move, fascinated with his ethereal beauty rather than calculating how much he makes to buy everything Gucci.


 You should sketch him when you get the opportunity to. He’s too beautiful not to be put onto paper.


 He notices your unwavering gaze and as he pulls away, he playfully winks in your direction and you’re instantly looking down at your white tattered converse, embarrassment colouring your cheek with a cute peach pink.


  “Are you free during lunch? Yoongi is inviting us to his parents restaurant,”


  You can’t help but eavesdrop, your eyes furrowing in confusion when you realise they’re going to a restaurant that people of such riches didn’t even look in the direction of. But, you can’t blame them for going, the food is deliciously prepared in big portions and is fairly cheap, which makes it an ideal place for Rosé, her boyfriend, Jinyoung and you to visit from time to time.


 “Yeah, I’m free. Is Seokjin coming along?”


Is that meant to be a joke?” You snicker before it registers in your mind that you’re not supposed to be paying attention, your eyes widening as you hoped that you would go unnoticed.


 The elevator dings, signalling that it has arrived on the 15th floor. You let out a breath, watching as the darker haired man steps out of the elevator first, and before the other can step out, you feel a hand on your shoulder and hot air is suddenly felt against your left ear.


 You are rigid and unmoving. He chuckles into your ear and goosebumps rise on your skin. “Saved by the bell,”


The darker haired man notices the absence of his friend by his side and turns, yelling out to him. “Taehyung, stop harassing the girl.”


Taehyung gives your shoulder a squeeze before leaving as if he didn’t do anything, the elevator doors closing soon after and giving you time to breathe as you rack your brain, trying to comprehend what in the hell just happened.


 The elevator dings again, and you’re on the 16th floor. You’re anxious as you exit the lift, walking towards the receptionist desk for some direction since there was so many doors that lead to uncharted territory.


 The receptionist lifts their head at the sound of soft footsteps you make, curious eyes peering over his circular glasses, and you’re left astonished when your eyes lay on him.


 Is everyone here a freaking model?


 “Hello, I’m Park Jimin! How may I help you?” The male receptionist brightly greets you, his angelic features glowing as a sparkling smile graces his face.


“Um, where is Mr. Kim Hyungshin’s office? I have a delivery for him,” you motion towards the yellow envelope in your hand and Jimin’s face lights up.


 “Ah, it’s down the hall. Turn right and you’ll see it at the end of the hallway.” Jimin explains to you, and you thank him with a bow before following his directions.


 You walk down the buzzing hallway, passing up other model-like employees, both men and women, on your way. You shake your head, in disbelief at how much beauty and class surrounds you instead of feeling small like you did around Irene.


 You approach the door and are about to knock on the large wooden doors that shine, but stop when you hear a yell.


 “Damnit, Seokjin! You’re just not ready. Have I not made that clear?” A strict voice shouts, making you jump out of a skin at the harshness of his tone.


 “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, father.


 “This is not the time to argue with me, Seokjin.” The loud voice is more quieter now, but still manages to make a shiver run down your spine. You hear a sigh. “You’re just…now is not the time. You’re just not ready, please understand me when I say this.”


You knock on the door before the conversation can continue, hearing a strong, “Come in,” from beyond the door.


 You open the door, cautiously entering the enormous room space that is bigger than your entire apartment. The colour white dominates the interior of the room; white walls, white furniture, white rugs and some more white. It’s blinding, and you’re wondering how the room is so clean despite its colour that makes uncleanness obvious to the human eye. An older man stands with his back to a fantastic view of the city, hands on the table with his head hung low.


 The other man in the room turns his head and when your eyes lock, you’re rendered breathless.


 He is the most handsome man your eyes have ever had the blessing of laying on. His lips are full and his shoulders are board, features you found rather charming and repeated a lot within portraits you’ve drawn.


 Saying he’s a masterpieces falls short of what he really is.


 “Ah, you must be Miss Rose’s friend,” a voice that doesn’t belong to the handsome man says, forcing you to pry your eyes off his Greek God-like features as you look towards the older man that is a spitting image of the gorgeous man. Expect for the wrinkles and stress lines that dominate his face. This is the one and only, Kim Hyungshin, technological God and mobile phone monopoly.


 “Yes,” you confirm breathlessly after an eternity trying to muster a single word.


“How is she? Is she feeling any better?” He inquires as he straightens out his expensive suit, sending you a warm smile that doesn’t match the loud voice you heard screaming only seconds prior. “Please, sit.”


“Oh, that’s okay. I’m fine,” you muster a smile, walking forwards towards the man’s desk and stopping at a point where you’re shoulder to shoulder with Seokjin. Blood rushes to your cheeks as all his attention is on you, the intensity of his gaze alone too much to handle. “She’s doing fine, she’ll be back in no time.”


“That’s great,” Mr.Kim smiles and gratefully accepts the package you hand over with a polite bow. “Did she receive my goodie basket?”


His words almost makes you choke on your surprise. He was the type to send goodie baskets to employees? Well, one side of him clearly was, the same couldn’t be said for the other side. You clear your throat, remaining composed despite the question that’s eager to leave the confinements of your mouth as you reply with, “I’m not sure, she hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”


He clears his throat. “Oh well, thanks for coming down and delivering this package,” Mr.Kim smiles and you smile back, not missing the expression of disgust that grows on Seokjin’s face out of the corner of your eye. “Tell Rosé I say get better soon.”


“I will,” you smile back, even though it’s not entirely genuine. You bow to Mr. Kim and turn in Seokjin’s direction, bowing to him too, a little more further than you did for Mr.Kim and subtly make a run for the door.


 You just barely leave the office of Mr. Kim when your phone rings in your pocket. The notification is set for one person only, the only person you want to talk to at the moment. You pull your phone out and accept the call in a flash.


Rosé,” you speak before she can get the chance to, and judging by how dramatic you sound, Rosé knows not to interrupt you. “I have so much to tell you.”

Sheet-Stealer - Phan Fluff

5 times Phil stole the bedcovers, and 1 time Dan got there first

This is total cliché fluffy trash, because I’m tired and stressed and this is how I work through my emotions, apparently. Unbetaed, so sorry for mistakes/typos! Enjoy the pointless fluff ^_^

Around 4k of literally just fluff. There’s no plot. There’s nothing else to warn you about. It’s literally just fluff.

AO3 Link

The first time, Dan had only just met Phil.

The day in Manchester was more than perfect – so much so, in fact, that Dan was still ninety-percent certain that he was floating in some kind of dream world, and his favourite YouTuber had never tweeted him in the first place, and his mind had constructed this very elaborate alternate universe spanning several months until he actually imagined himself meeting AmazingPhil for the very first time.

Except, that hug at the train station earlier had felt pretty real, and he wasn’t AmazingPhil, he was just Phil, with arms entirely too warm and a grin so bright it warmed even Dan’s cold and lonely heart. So Dan dared to believe it was real, dared to wrap his own slender arms around Phil’s broad shoulders, and curled himself up into Phil’s warmth.

Keep reading

{ I do not own the Artwork, Bless who ever does } || Stucky Christmas || 


Hours on end. He sat there. Rubbing his face to stay awake and perhaps somehow massage an idea out of his brain. Bucky stared across the room of the apartment him and Steve were now staying in…together. Steve had given his all to get Bucky back to health and somewhat well in his depressed state of mind. It was only fit he find some way to thank him, but how? 


Two nights prior to Bucky’s deep moments of pondering, Steve had decorated a miniature tree in the living room, if the room was even big enough to be called that. By the window sat a fake tree that was too big for a toddler, but no where near big enough to mimic a real one. Vividly remembering the Holiday, Steve had gone over it as well, and something was on the Tv the other night that consisted of a large fat man in a red suit with a sleigh and presents. 

Groaning as he stood from the mattress, yanking on one of the shirts Steve had loaned him, he exited the bedroom to make his way to the kitchen. Steve was gone for the day, he was checking in with Tony every so often to keep the trust between them, there still was a large grudge there and Steve had been determined to fix it. 


Snatching a magazine off of the counter, he flipped through the slick pages of fancy dressed people, pausing on the page that advertised 50% off all sales. His brow furrowed and a sudden idea came to mind. A gift! That was a good gesture was it not? But a quick realization came to thought when he looked at the $ sign. Reaching into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes closed to retain his anger. Heat came to his face and he felt the tension in his metal arm, releasing a breath to relax. Shaking his head at himself, he stiffened when the sound of the front door was being unlocked. 



@whydouwantaname there you go love :) I didn’t want to go into it too much, but if you want I am happy to write a part 2 xD 

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This is a great, versatile set of cubbies that can be arranged as book shelves, curio cabinets, or storage cubbies. You can set them up together in a square unit or free form, or separately in different areas. There are six separate sections, each painted in a different shade of pink, graduating in shades from pastel pink, bubblegum pink, fuchsia, to raspberry shades. All of the boxes are painted grey on the outside and front facings. I had a lot of fun trying out different arrangements when I photographed this set. The possibilities are almost limitless, and would work anywhere in your dollhouse or miniature scene, from the living room, bedroom, or even as closet organizers for Barbie or Blythe’s extensive wardrobe and accessories. It would also make a great entertainment center, and would be wonderful in a miniature craft/sewing room or office. I had fun showing off some of my Re-ment collection and miniature toys. :)