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bunicate · 7 months

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ DREAMING OUT LOUD

pairing ꒱ྀི al haitham x bunny!fem reader — warnings ꒱ hybrid au . bath-time with haithy ! fingering. subtle hand kink. fluff / wc ꒱ 2.4k / 18+

al haitham finds himself lost in his own musings more often these past moons. instead of his mind circling around any new wonder of the world, he’s recalling small moments enough times that distract him from his usual thinking.

at first, he tried to organize such thoughts into some semblance of order and question why they appeared in the first place until he realized for once, that he didn’t need an answer. he didn’t want one.

while peeling apart that revelation— scraping away at the edges, he wondered if doing so would give him that same sweetness or grant him the seeds to plant more. somehow it was the latter.

the seeds sprouted prickly vines that sunk into both his heart and mind.

now al haitham spends his walk home just remembering tiny exchanges down to the most minute detail. the meeting of fingertips, eyes squinting from the blinding warmth, sleep woven into each wrinkle, frown, and soft giggle.

the scribe had become even more reluctant to be pulled away from his own thinking, but he makes an exception when the one occupying his thoughts excitedly appears before him.

just seconds after he steps through the door of his home, he’s ripped away from his reverie. al haitham is nearly sent back into the outdoors from the solid weight that collides against him. he uncharacteristically loses his footing and the hardwood floor might’ve been his fate if not for his fast reflexes.

pillowy arms latch tightly around his slender waist and fluffy ears tickle his abdomen. face nuzzling into his lower stomach, carelessly grazing his groin, you whine, “haitham . . . you’re finally back.”

the smell of his scent mingled with the aroma of the desert warms your senses. leftover speckles of the granular sand on his clothes poke at your skin, and yet you pull him closer.

“I missed you sooooo much.”

he nods, “I’ve returned.”

you tilt up to look at him with your dolly eyes that enamor him. eyes that once belonged to a creature that only sparked his curiosity was now a companion.

his hand rests on your head, careful to put it between your floppy ears. the tip of his fingers scratch and caress the surface and he’s rewarded with your expectant purr.

your tail flits from the bubbling eagerness to receive more of his affection. he recalls his roommate chiding him for not being soft enough with you, but he begged to differ.

reminded of the blonde, he wonders aloud, “is kaveh here?”

al haitham doesn’t make a habit of thinking about the architect, but he’s grown wary. it seemed like kaveh had also fixed his attention to you. a ribbon unfamiliar to al haitham adorns your hair and there could only be one person responsible.

“mhm! he’s in his room.”

eyes run down the curves of your body. his oversized shirt did nothing but define the slopes of your breast and rise above your tail perched above your butt.

“what did I say about your clothes ?”

arms falling to your sides, your lips jut out into a tempting pout. “I know what you said, but I’m wearing panties this time,” you petulantly mumble.

you had a terrible habit of walking around completely bare. while the loose shirt was a step up from complete nudity, he didn't need kaveh to see anything else. he recalls the architect walking in on your naked body on multiple occasions.

“I suppose,” he hums. “still, I’d prefer if he didn’t catch any more glimpses of you.”

you chuckle lightheartedly at the man displaying clear signs of jealousy, but it’s interrupted by a yawn. your head shakes reactively trying to rid your body of the drowsiness and play it off in an effort to fool the scribe into letting you stay up later but, nothing made it past him.

“it is rather late. let’s get you to bed. '' he reaches out to hold your hand, but you don't take it.

head tilted to the side you ask, “I need to take a bubble bath first ! are you gonna come?”

you lean closer to him, fullest parts pressing against his athletic frame in a cute attempt to entice him , but he shakes his head. ever the busiest scribe.

“I have some paperwork to finish and I wanted to catch up on some light reading before I retire for the night .”

your ears droop.

“but–”

your ears perk back up.

“I could help you, if that’s what you want,” he offers.

you instantly spring back to life. “oh yes, please!” you squeal excitedly, grabbing his hand to lead him noisily up the stairs. nearly tripping over yourself, still you drag him to the bathroom.

“be careful,” he scolds, but you just laugh at his tense and worried expression.

shutting the door after you both enter, you hop up on the counter and wait patiently.

al haitham shakes his head, a ghost of a smile forming. he takes off his gloves and rests them on the cluttered sink. this mess was undoubtedly your doing, and he makes a note to bring it up later. he turns on the hot water and when it rises a bit higher, he dips his hand to feel the temperature and he's quick to pull it out. he preferred the water to be much more tepid while you liked it to be boiling.

he senses your eyes on him watching as he pours the vanilla-scented soap into the water waiting for the bubbles to form into clouds.

when he finally turns to face you, he’s met with a bright smile only you could own. not a word was spoken. silence was enough to consume the delicate air between the both of you .

you decide to hop off the counter and pull the cotton t-shirt off your body. al haitham moves to crouch, resting on his knee to pull down your underwear. your hand leans on his shoulder as you take your time to step out of the undergarment.

left foot first and then the right.

you do a little hop when you almost lose your balance, but he steadies you, staring at your bare cunt.

you turn your back to him and he ogles at your ass before standing to his full height. towering over you and standing close behind, you feel his breath grazing your neck. agile fingers sweep your hair towards your shoulder blades, tickling the warmth of your skin to unhook your necklace that acted as a collar. he places the fine jewelry on the sink and extends his arm towards you once more.

you place your hand between his and he leads you to the tub. you submerge yourself completely in the water and al haitham plays with the bubbles before washing you up.

you both use the moment to admire each other's features. gray-ish hair hovers over his eyes that betray no emotion and still you can make out his affections. your gaze trails down to his nose, lips, and wide shoulders. the muscles in his arms flex as he drags the soapy cloth along your body and you bask in the moment before he decides to break the silence.

“what did you do today?” the cloth glides over your chest, easily soothing you.

“nothin’ much. kaveh came home early and he bought me a slice of cake.”

of course he did. kaveh always had a tendency to obsess over pretty things so it was only natural that he’d flock to you– a cute and helpless bunny. ever since this place has equally become your home kaveh wasn’t good at being discreet. his touches lingered for far too long and al haitham became keen on how much time kaveh spent with you while he was away at the akademiya. but he could at least feel secure knowing you were safe.

hybrids, a species often neglected and exploited needed to be protected, and he guessed he could rest easy knowing he had another pair of capable hands to rely on.

“h-haithy !”

your sudden cry lures him out of yet another daydream but this time he’s flustered. he understands the alarm in your eyes when he realizes how close his hand was to your nether regions, crassly nudging your cunt for the past few minutes.

he exhales and sputters at the sight and he’s quick to pull his arm away, but you stop him. it’s the first you’ve seen him taken aback and you want to tease him like he does to you , but you can’t—not when desire engulfs you to the point of ruin.

“n-no ! . . . leave it please ?”

both of your hands tug his further into the water, knees coming closer together around his his limb, just until you feel that graze against heat.

al haitham remains quiet, closely watching your next move to see what you’d do now. your head reclines back to rest on the tile wall, your fingers guide his own to your middle, and with steady humps against his wrist you feel relief that rids that redundant ache.

“. ‘haitham, can we? . . just for a little bit ?”

he didn’t think he could say no even in a light-hearted jest.

you nearly collapse in on yourself when you finally feel him becoming receptive to your inclination.

his fingers feathers at the seam of your lips. instead of making it easy for you, he’d rather give you the tools to bring yourself to your own high. he would only give you a running start.

his palms slide up cupping and then squeezing the plumpness of your cunt. it fits perfectly in his hand, hot and sticky even when submerged under the water. a finger slides down to settle on your clit, circular rubs turn into slow strokes. if you wanted to feel more, you’d have to work for it yourself.

your small hand wraps around his wrists trying to feel more of him. “hnnn . . want them inside, haithy.”

he’s deliberately pressing down on the sensitive bulb hoping to draw out your cute moans, ignoring your simple request. al haitham's gaze is glued to your tummy folding over and your spread legs. between them is perfect pussy spoiled and eager to receive more of his touch.

his digits slide down your outer lips to press down on your hole. probing it, teasing it until it twitches greedily for more. he moves around the orifice collecting slick that struggles to disperse in the water.

“ haitham . . .” you beg. his eyes flicker to your pleading ones. lip tucked under your teeth and brows drawn tight, your chest expands as you greedily suck in air, hips gyrating into his palm hoping for him to satisfy you. “please.”

he smirks and to your luck, two fingers enter and stretch you. long and nimble things your pussy takes the shape of. they scissor and separate to feel the heaviness of your walls clamping down.

“so tight.”

the veins in his flexing arm are prominent. you see the force behind his movements as well as feel it. his biceps bulge while his fingers jerk you to completion . the sounds of you the splashing water and your whiny moans further arouse you

“you’re close to cumming already ?” he provokes. “ from just my fingers, too. it seems I must train you just a bit more.”

the bass in his voice sends a tremor down your spine. his words of encouragement provoke more of your thoughtless pants and the swivel of your hips. just a bit more—more of his knuckles stretching your walls, more of those eyes you fell in love with looking back at you with an unspoken, ravenous haze.

it makes you bashful. your damp bunny ears fall over your eyes, shielding them from his hungry stare.

“oh?” his expression darkens and his tone drips in a taunting and authoritative tone.

“are you hiding from me now ?”

it should make you quiver, but you know him well enough by now. as stoic as he may appear, the caress of your folds tell a different story.

you foolishly part your mouth to audibly confirm but a broken gasp escapes at the coil slowly winding up inside of you.

“you shouldn’t be so shy. wouldn’t you rather see who’s making you writhe? don’t you want to see how you’re fucking my hand like a wild bunny rabbit in heat?”

your hair sticks to your face from the steamy room and the sweat that gleams your skin. you pull your floppy ears away from your eyes and you’re met with the sight of his handsome face. contrary to his expression, the sight before him acted as a fire, melting him into remnants of himself.

his cock twitches against his snug pants, itching to enter your gooey cunt. how well you’d behave— how obedient you’ll be when he seats you on his member and you’ll hop up and down like good bunnies are supposed to.

with how generously your pussy has been tugging on his fingers, he’s more than willing to test that theory.

your eyes are tempted to screw shut but you want to watch. sensing your conflict, al haitham nods in approval to coax you.

“that’s more like it. you’re hard to resist when you’re so obedient.”

his fingers work themselves inside of you, precise thrusts, muscles defined and on display. he’s so . . . big, so filling and you might just lose it.

a prolonged gasp echoes as your thighs squeeze around his muscular arm. the continuous strokes of your sticky walls forces you upright into a sweltering mess. your pussy’s throbbing quickens erratically until he feels the rhythm steady out into a slow pulse— suckles that pulls his digits deeper toward yours sacred spot until you couldn’t anymore.

your senses fail when his thumb rubs your little clit to help drag out your end. you were nothing but a drooly and overstimulated shell of yourself, with meek moans falling from your mouth.

“yeah, that’s a good girl.”

he doesn��t stop milking you. his other hand reaches out to scratch behind your furry ears in praise while you crumble to pieces. he carefully removes his fingers from inside of you and pats your pussy that puffed from his ministrations. it pulsated around nothing—twitching like a bunny’s nose.

“I’d say you’re more than satisfied.”

you’re exhausted and still you nuzzle into his palm. what was once supposed to be a relaxing bath was now a drawn-out session of your dear owner playing with your sore cunt. still he admires your tired and spent state moving to actually get you clean this time.

“let’s get you to bed.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x reader smut #genshin impact smut #hybrid reader #hybrid au

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visit-new-york · 7 months

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The Chrysler Building's significance extends beyond its status as an architectural masterpiece. It has woven itself into the very fabric of New York City, becoming an emblem of the city's resilience, ambition, and unwavering commitment to progress. In the midst of the Great Depression, the Chrysler Building emerged as a symbol of hope, a tangible representation of the city's determination to rise above adversity. It became a testament to the indomitable spirit of both its creators and the people of New York.

Throughout its storied history, the Chrysler Building has been a guiding light for New Yorkers and visitors alike. Its spire, which once served as a prominent beacon for aviators, now symbolizes a guiding star for those navigating the bustling streets and bustling ambitions of the city below. Whether viewed from a distance or experienced up close, the Chrysler Building's allure is magnetic, drawing the eyes and hearts of all who encounter it.

As Manhattan's skyline continues to evolve, the Chrysler Building stands as a reminder of the city's architectural heritage. While it may no longer hold the title of the tallest building in New York, its timeless elegance and unique design continue to inspire architects and developers to push the boundaries of innovation. The Chrysler Building serves as a bridge between the past and the future, showcasing the enduring beauty of Art Deco while encouraging new visions of urban design.

In the fast-paced world of the 21st century, the Chrysler Building remains a living work of art. It invites us to slow down, look up, and appreciate the craftsmanship and artistry that went into its creation. Its lobby, with its richly detailed murals and intricate design elements, is a testament to the dedication of those who built it. The building itself is a canvas upon which history, culture, and human ingenuity have been painted.

For those fortunate enough to visit New York City, a trip to the Chrysler Building is a must. While the interior may not be as accessible as its exterior, the opportunity to stand in the shadow of this architectural marvel and take in its breathtaking design is an experience like no other. The Chrysler Building is a living testament to the power of architecture to inspire and uplift the human spirit.

In the ever-changing landscape of New York City, the Chrysler Building stands as an enduring symbol of beauty, aspiration, and the relentless pursuit of excellence. It has the rare ability to grab the attention of anyone who encounters it, whether in person or through the pages of history. As a shimmering icon of Art Deco elegance, the Chrysler Building will continue to enchant, inspire, and remind us of the limitless possibilities that can be achieved when vision, determination, and creativity come together in perfect harmony. In the midst of the city's ceaseless energy and ambition, the Chrysler Building remains an exquisite reminder of the enduring magic of New York.

#Chrysler Building #new york city #new york #new-york #newyork #nyc #ny #manhattan #urban #city #usa #United States #buildings #travel #journey #outdoors #street #architecture #visit-new-york.tumblr.com

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itsmaferart · 7 months

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SPY x FAMILY x CHAIR Vol. 7~8~9

SxF Vol 7 · Damian Desmond - Willow Chair

The Willow Chair was designed by Scottish architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh in the early 20th century. The chair was originally designed for use in The Willow Tea Rooms Company, a cafe and tea room that Mackintosh also designed in Glasgow, Scotland. The chair was part of a larger collection of furniture pieces designed for this company.

The concept of tea rooms was popular in Victorian and Edwardian times, and was considered a meeting place for the upper middle class.

The design shows a progressive approach to design, suggesting that the chair is at the forefront of creative thinking and is sleek, modern and curious. It stands out for its simplicity in geometric patterns. The chair features straight, minimalist lines in its structure, with curved wooden elements at the top to provide head and neck support.

A distinctive feature is its triangular backrest, which extends upward from the arms at an acute angle to create a sleek and elegant silhouette. The seat also features an elaborate lattice pattern, made from hand-woven wicker, which adds texture and dimension to the chair.

I’m Damian, scion of the Desmond family! I’ll be a politician one day and protect this country!

I love the way the dimension of the chair in disproportionate to Damian's body, who is clearly a kid with a very big precedent behind him, a very big ego and pride in possessing the last name Desmond, and it projects very well the way it makes Damian look more imposing for his age while giving you a look that continually judges you, adorably.

Damian is someone who projects himself from greatness, and his constant yearnings to be a recognized figure such as his family, even so, his childlike soul continues to exist.

However deep down, behind all the Desmond pride (Reflected in the chair) are his yearnings to really have fun and enjoy his childhood wanting to play with his balls, read manga, play with dinosaurs. He is definitely a little boy with a lot behind his shoulders.

SxF Vol 8 · Franky Franklyn - Eames Lounge chair & Ottoman

The Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman were designed by Charles and Ray Eames in 1956, an American designer couple.

It was created from the idea of a "comfortable as a glove" chair, with an ergonomically molded seat and back shell combined with a plywood base. It was originally designed for the Herman Miller furniture company.

It was designed to provide comfort and relaxation, elegant and attractive that will complement any living space. The chair features clean, simple lines and a minimalist structure that emphasizes its elegance and ergonomics. The base is made of plywood, bent in several layers and smoothly polished to give it a smooth, refined finish.

Can we talk about how relaxed and cool Ostania's best informant looks? I love how the combination of this chair reflects Franky's relaxed but refined personality, a genius at his job even if often not properly appreciated. However, we can see his details, a bit messy, his taste for money, some good cigars, some confidential envelopes.

It's interesting when you remember that Franky seems to hate the handsome, moneyed show-offs who seem to be very lucky, even though he wishes he was one. He is simple and laid back, with a classy side and a profitable bottom line.

SxF Vol 9 · Becky Blackbell - Coconut Chair

The Coconut chair was designed by architect and designer George Nelson in 1955 who was the design director for Herman Miller.

The chair was inspired by the designer's tropical landscape during his visit to the Fiji Islands. Nelson observed a group of children playing with one half of a coconut shell and realized that the shape and curve of the coconut shell could be harnessed to design a comfortable, modern chair. It was created as a highly engineered piece of furniture that offered a high level of comfort.

Although originally designed as a lounge chair, the Coconut chair is suitable for any space, from offices to homes. The stainless steel tripod base is an attractive design element, its fine details such as the apparent stitching on the upholstered

"You and I should be best friends"

I like how both the Coconut chair and Becky could be described as elegant, sophisticated, avant-garde and with a lot of personality. Despite her young age, we know that Becky has a very definite personality, sometimes with a very volatile and fanciful imagination.

Unlike many Spy x Family characters and their respective chairs, the elements are usually placed at the back or bottom with respect to the chair, always covered by some slight shadow, reflecting those elements that characterize the respective personality.

However, all of Becky's things are clearly displayed and stacked with bright colors. We know that it refers to all the riches and luxuries Becky has, as well as her passion for fashion and shopping.

But also, it's a way of expressing how authentic Becky is and how she's not afraid to show her true personality without having to hide it.

You can read the previous review here!

You can read the next part here

#spy x familyxchair #spy x family #spy x family manga 71 #twiyor #loid forger #yor forger #loid x yor #yor briar #twilight #anya forger #spyxfamily twilight #sxf #becky blackbell #franky franklin #damian desmond

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seraphiism · 1 year

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❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢 ) ;

( AT THE END AS AT THE START, & THROUGH ALL THE IN-BETWEENS, I LOVE YOU )

characters : xiao / alhaitham / shenhe / kazuha / zhongli fandom : genshin impact quote cr : amal el-mohtar and max gladstone a/n : part 1 of 4! each character is limited to 150 words.

↬ xiao ࿐ ࿔

a yaksha knows what it is like to be needed, redemption sought upon self-sacrifice and approaching insanity. yes, xiao knows the feeling of being needed, but not the feeling of being wanted. mortal trivialities are not meant for intrigue, so he dismisses the thought.

it is when you first speak his name that he wonders -- it is merciless : the shift in gentle tones, the way your hands tremble, anxious at the selfish request. because you truly do not need anything, but there is something in the heart that desires him so.

he makes his presence known, notes how you brighten at the mere sight of him. it is then that he feels his pulse quicken, feels a semblance of home.

yes, xiao knows what it's like to be needed, he thinks, the burden of karmic debt soothed by another's love, and he knows what it is like to be wanted.

↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔

alhaitham does not know of the tenderness that resides in a seemingly dormant heart, endeavors found in all things factual. so it is a strange phenomenon, as said by a certain architect, that he has sworn himself to another, expressed loyalty in ways unseen by most. he does not recognize ardor, not quite -- it is a foreign stranger in his life, but one he is willing to welcome.

"read to me?"

your head rests against his chest, arm draped over his waist. book in hand, he gives you a questioning look-- one you return with an exhausted smile.

"it'll bore you, unless that's how you intend to fall asleep."

"that's okay." you fight back a yawn, giving into fatigue. "i just like listening to your voice."

"you subject yourself to strange things."

"you like it."

he chuckles, but pulls the warm covers over your close figures.

"do i? i wonder."

↬ shenhe ࿐ ࿔

cursed are those abandoned, innocence tarnished by deceit and insanity. a lone soul bound by red ropes and fate alike, shenhe bores a cold rage ; how it drowns in waves, struggles to stay afloat. but it is not only anger that remains at sea, but joy and sorrow. she was once devoid of such things, though they have bloomed so wonderfully in the knowing of you.

in the knowing of you, shenhe feels a longing that brings uncertainty and comfort. but she is naive to the bonds of mortals, and so she carries it forth without knowing it is love.

she will learn of it, eventually, and it will be beautiful. for now, she takes your hand, presses a kiss against your knuckles, and rests it against a beating heart. how wildly it rings in her ears, and surely she knows that this is the beginning of a future cherished.

↬ kazuha ࿐ ࿔

kazuha's soul belongs in many places : the sky, the shore, and the sea. how it thrives in the presence of all, but it is with you that it yearns the most. how silly, he thinks, this lovesickness he's given into entirely.

the rain pours upon his arrival, but it is not an unwanted greeting. he watches, nostalgic, a soft melancholy woven into his smile as the kind winds guide brilliant red maple leaves. you stand at his side, your hand in his, feel how he squeezes it in hope and quiet grief.

nature knows his heart all too well, just as you do. you laugh when a leaf lands in his hair, turns his smile into one of amusement as you remove it delicately.

"thank you."

you do not let go of the maple leaf, knowing he will keep it for his travels as remembrance of this moment you share.

↬ zhongli ࿐ ࿔

it is difficult, morax finds, to survive. even time cannot heal the deepest of wounds, and the burdens of leading humanity have hurt him so. he no longer has nightmares of battles won and lost, but he wonders-- did he ever truly win? to witness bloodshed, to cause bloodshed, knowing he lost his allies--

it is difficult, zhongli thinks, to survive.

the days pass quickly; even in a life freed from loosened chains of godhood, he wonders if he will ever adapt. from amber to embers, he closes his eyes, the music a welcome distraction as he focuses on the feeling of your body against his. you sway together, movements slow as you surrender to the depths of time.

yes, it is difficult to survive. but perhaps in this brave new world, he muses, resting his forehead against yours, he will remember once more what it means to live again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #shenhe x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #okay i was going to do 10 characters per post..tht way there's only 2 parts but #150 words are difficult bc it takes awhile to figure out how to do everything + everyone justice with such a limitation #so i think 5 per post will be good :^)))#also reading everyone's lore and quotes again .. made me very sad #.: writing #.: multi

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pagansphinx · 2 months

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The Bauhaus, 1919–1933

Paul Klee (Swiss, 1879-1940) • Senecio or Head of a Man Going Senile • 1922 • Kunstmuseum Basel, Switzerland

“A drawing is simply a line going for a walk.“ – Paul Klee

The Bauhaus was founded in 1919 in the city of Weimar by German architect Walter Gropius (1883–1969). Its core objective was a radical concept: to reimagine the material world to reflect the unity of all the arts. Gropius explained this vision for a union of art and design in the Proclamation of the Bauhaus (1919), which described a utopian craft guild combining architecture, sculpture, and painting into a single creative expression. Gropius developed a craft-based curriculum that would turn out artisans and designers capable of creating useful and beautiful objects appropriate to this new system of living.

Read the rest of the essay here.

"Form follows function" (Bauhaus design principle)

Marcel Breuer (Hungarian-German, 1902-1981) • B3 “Wassily” Armchair • 1925 • chrome-plated steel, canvas upholstery • Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

"I am as much interested in the smallest detail as in the whole structure." – Marcel Breur

Annie Albers (German, 1899-1994) • Wall tapestry • Designed, 1925; woven, 1983

"Creating is the most intense excitement one can come to know." –Annie Albers

The Bauhaus was eventually closed under pressure from the Nazi regime, which branded the school, and modernism in general, as un-German.

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bunji-enthusiast · 5 months

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Uhhh, domesticated undead!Toji? Rahhh.

The man sighed, running a large hand through raven threads.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

Toji spoke with an etched scratch of concern woven into his voice, he cross his arms causing his muscles to flex. Biceps bulging, and prominent veins showing wereas in areas it was wasn’t covered by his sweater.

You sighed, a huffy breath coming after. “Yes.“

Jabbing a hand at the park attraction, it was a large swinging boat that resembled that of an Egyptian architect design - it was named, ‘Pharaoh’s Fury.’

“Interestin name they chose.” He chuckled, a small rasp tainting the scar on his lip with a ticklish sensation.

You blinked for a few moments as your vision had felt out of place, then looked back at the larger man. Toji looked clearly as if he gave into your ministrations.

“Alright,” He sighed — letting his arms fall to their sides. “But s’c- don’t come cryin to me if you get scared.”

You nodded instantaneously at his words, eyes shining with a child-like glee. Toji had noticed this, for you were very easy to read.

Shifting to his other foot, he patted your head and ruffled your hair. (Not so much though, he didn’t want to ruin it for you.)

“Thanks Toj.” His brows furrowed at the nickname, then he sighed once more. Nodding his head as if he had a small laugh out of such a simple gesture.

#jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #dilf toji #??#this is how I’m coping #shaddup #he’s cute n’ silly #idc if he’s ooc #if I writes #I WRITE

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surroundedbypearls · 2 months

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Aerabay, the Evergreen city.

Denise pulled out onto the street, turning on her wipers as she navigated through the streets that made up her and Eli’s neighbourhood. Their apartment block was around the corner from the synagogue, but their school was a little more of a trip. Aerabay, the Evergreen city, comprised tall towers of glass and steel and shorter, stouter builds like their school of old brick. Few people even lived in an ordinary house with a garden. Not that they needed one when they had the shrubbery and flowers the city’s architects had all but woven into the brickwork that surrounded them, all of it breathing with life every moment, vines climbing everywhere she looked. The vines would have a great time today, with this weather. The greenery was probably the least interesting thing to advertise about Aerabay these days, between the brand new space needle and everyone’s favourite monorail, but she still loved it more than anything else.

Aerabay is the east coast city in which the homebirds characters live. It's inspired by a few different cities and also just fiction.

More on Homebirds here! Leave a comment or an ask to be added to the taglist.

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #my wips #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #ya fiction #sci fi #fantasy fiction #wip: homebirds

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voraciouskingdom · 11 days

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Beloved ones, you stand at the threshold of a magnificent portal, a gateway that beckons you to shed the constraints of the old world and embrace the limitless possibilities that await in the realms beyond. As you prepare to take this sacred step, the universe conspires to support your transition into a reality where miracles are woven into the very fabric of existence.

Feel the energy of this portal pulsating with the heartbeat of creation itself, resonating with the primordial vibrations that birthed galaxies and set the cosmos in motion. With each breath, you attune yourself to the frequencies of this new world, aligning your being with the harmonies of unbounded potential.

As you cross the threshold, you release the shackles of limiting beliefs, fears, and doubts that have tethered you to the illusions of scarcity and separation. In this realm, abundance flows freely, nourishing your dreams and igniting the fires of your passion. Scarcity is but a distant echo, replaced by the symphony of limitless abundance that permeates every aspect of your existence.

In this new world, you are not merely an observer but a co-creator, weaving threads of light and love into the web of reality. Your thoughts, emotions, and intentions hold the power to shape and transform the very substance of this realm, allowing you to manifest your deepest desires with the ease and grace of a cosmic artist.

Embrace the truth that you are a fractal of the divine, a spark of the infinite consciousness that animates all existence. Your connection to the source is unbreakable, and as you step forth, you awaken to the profound realization that you are never alone, but rather supported by the vast network of celestial beings and cosmic forces that guide your journey.

In this new world, the boundaries between the physical and the metaphysical dissolve, revealing the intricate web of interconnectedness that binds all life. You are invited to explore the depths of your multidimensional nature, transcending the limitations of linear time and space, and embracing the infinite expanse of your being.

As you breathe in the rarefied essence of this realm, your senses awaken to the subtle frequencies that permeate every aspect of existence. You perceive the dance of energy that animates all form, and your understanding of reality expands, unveiling the intricate web of synchronicities and sacred patterns that orchestrate the unfolding of the cosmos.

Step forth, beloved ones, and embrace the majesty of this new world. Trust in the wisdom of your soul, for it has guided you to this pivotal moment. Surrender to the flow of divine grace, and allow the currents of creation to carry you towards the fulfillment of your highest potential. In this realm, anything is possible, for you are the architects of a reality infused with love, light, and limitless wonder.

🔥❤️‍🔥

#pagan #wicca #magick #witchcraft

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neohoreca · 25 days

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Neo Horeca Furniture

NEO-750019E Outdoor Barrel Chair For Cafe Restaurant

NEO-750021E Woven Sofa For Cafe Restaurant

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al-cin · 5 months

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Some chains don’t break

Coriolanus snow x reader (Lyra)

The haunting echoes of explosions reverberated through the air as Lyra stumbled through the chaos of the Hunger Games arena. The once pristine landscape was now marred by destruction, a testament to the rebellion that raged against the Capitol's tyranny.

In the midst of the mayhem, Lyra spotted Coriolanus Snow, disoriented and vulnerable. Instinct kicked in, and without a second thought, she pulled him to safety, shielding him from the onslaught. As the smoke cleared, the realization of her choice settled like a heavy burden on Lyra's shoulders.

Coriolanus, his usually composed demeanor shattered, looked at Lyra with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "You saved me," he uttered, the words carrying a weight that transcended the immediate danger.

Lyra nodded, her eyes reflecting a conflict that raged within. The rebellion had taken root, and her actions had aligned her fate with the very person she once saw as an oppressor. The Capitol's chains, though physically absent, seemed to tighten around her, binding her to a new set of expectations.

As they sought refuge in the remnants of the arena, Lyra couldn't escape the realization that saving Coriolanus had given him a new level of control over her life. The rebellion had thrust her into a role she hadn't anticipated—a reluctant savior, bound to a man who symbolized the very oppression she had despised.

Days turned into nights, and the struggle within Lyra intensified. The Capitol, now a target of the rebellion's wrath, faced the consequences of its own cruelty. Coriolanus, once the architect of the Games, found himself on the other side of the power dynamic.

Lyra's internal conflict festered, manifesting in sleepless nights and distant gazes. She found solace in the shadows, wrestling with the weight of her choices. The rebellion had given her a taste of freedom, only to replace one set of chains with another.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Lyra sought refuge on the outskirts of the rebel camp. The air was heavy with the scent of burning embers, a stark reminder of the price of defiance. Coriolanus approached her, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken turmoil.

"You saved me," he repeated, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Lyra's gaze wavered, torn between the gratitude she felt for the rebellion's cause and the realization that her actions had tethered her to Coriolanus in ways she couldn't escape. "I didn't save you for you," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration. "I did it for them—for everyone suffering under the Capitol's rule."

Coriolanus studied her, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Yet, here we are, bound by circumstance."

The words hung in the air, an acknowledgment of the tangled web fate had woven for them. Lyra, burdened by the consequences of her choices, couldn't shake off the yearning for a freedom that felt increasingly elusive.

In the quiet of the night, Lyra grappled with her conflicting emotions. The rebellion, with its promise of liberation, had become a double-edged sword. The shackles of the Capitol had been replaced by the weight of newfound responsibilities, and the realization that she longed for the freedom of anonymity gnawed at her soul.

Lyra navigated the rebel camp, her steps heavy with the weight of internal conflict. The remnants of the Hunger Games arena had become a twisted playground of memories and choices she couldn't undo. Coriolanus, ever the enigma, followed her with a silent understanding, a companion in a journey neither had anticipated.

As the rebellion's momentum intensified, Lyra found herself thrust into a role that demanded more than physical resilience. She became a symbol, a face of the uprising against the Capitol. The very rebellion that sought to dismantle the oppressive system inadvertently cast her as a reluctant hero, a position she struggled to reconcile with her own desires.

The rebel leaders, recognizing the propaganda value in her association with Coriolanus, encouraged their alliance. Lyra, however, felt the invisible chains tightening. She longed for the anonymity of the shadows, the ability to fade into obscurity without shouldering the burden of a nation's expectations.

One night, beneath a sky stained with the remnants of the rebellion's fires, Lyra confronted Coriolanus in a secluded corner of the camp. The air crackled with tension as they stood on the precipice of a conversation long overdue.

"I didn't ask for this," Lyra confessed, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of unspoken truths. "I didn't ask to become a symbol. I just wanted the Games to end."

Coriolanus, his gaze fixed on the distant flames, nodded solemnly. "We are both prisoners of circumstance," he admitted. "The rebellion sought to break free from the chains of the Capitol, but in doing so, it forged new bonds."

Lyra's frustration spilled over. "I wish I had run—faced the peacekeepers, taken my chances. At least then, I would have been free to choose my own path."

Coriolanus studied her with a gaze that betrayed a depth of understanding. "Freedom is a fickle thing," he mused. "Sometimes, the very choices that grant it also bind us in ways we never anticipated."

The conversation lingered in the air, a testament to the complexities of their shared reality. The rebellion, with its noble ideals, had inadvertently become a force that dictated Lyra's destiny. In the struggle for freedom, she found herself ensnared in a web of expectations and responsibilities.

As the rebellion prepared for its final assault on the Capitol, Lyra grappled with a decision that would shape the course of her future. The conflict within her intensified, a storm of emotions that mirrored the chaos unfolding in Panem.

The final showdown with the Capitol approached, and with it, the moment of reckoning for Lyra. Would she embrace the role thrust upon her, a symbol of defiance against oppression, or would she carve a path of her own, even if it meant facing the consequences of defying both the Capitol and the rebellion?

The night before the decisive battle, as the rebel camp buzzed with anticipation, Lyra stood at the edge of the encampment. Coriolanus approached her, the silence between them pregnant with unspoken truths.

"The choices we make define us," he said, his voice carrying the weight of shared burdens. "But remember, even in the face of destiny, there's always room for agency."

Lyra met his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had undertaken together. The rebellion had shattered the chains of the Hunger Games, but the question remained: could she forge a path of her own, or was she destined to be a pawn in a game larger than herself?

As the first light of dawn painted the horizon, Lyra faced an uncertain future.

#coriolanus snow x reader #hurt/comfort #x reader #original character #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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itsmaferart · 7 months

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SPY x FAMILY x CHAIR Vol 10 - 11- 12

Continuing with this series of analysis of the covers:

SxF . Vol 10 - Redacted

Unlike all the covers so far, cover 10 is the only one that does not show us a chair, but instead introduces us to [Redacted]. So we can give a little deeper analysis.

We can highlight that behind [Redacted] we can clearly see the rubble of a house of which there is absolutely nothing left, a soldier's helmet with scratches and cracks, the toy gun and a radio that apparently announced the war and the look of a child who has lost all happiness in his life and now must learn to survive with no one to take care of him.

I think it goes without saying that this is the saddest cover of the whole collection so far. But we can talk about the influence of [Redacted] on the current story.

In previous reviews I have talked about how [Redacted] is the basis for the existence of Twilight, the great spy of Westalis, the metaphorical death of this child who has lost his parents and his friends due to the conflicts of his country, and who later, blinded by hatred, would want to destroy his apparent enemies, to finally learn the hard lesson from his father of always longing for peace above all else.

From my perspective the tragedy of [Redacted] is the basis of Twilight, it's why the spy fighting for peace exists, but more importantly, it's what allows Twilight to not be entirely a living weapon serving a specific side. And while Twilight you made remembering her past "Self" is weakness, it is also who reminds her of what is truly important.

And it is [Redacted] who gives authenticity to Loid Forger, who reminds him that in the past he could experience happiness, his more vulnerable and sweet side, a child who could easily cry and wished to be in his mother's arms every night. Someone who just wished for a little love. Redacted] may never come back, but it is because of him that Twilight and Loid Forger are genuine and real.

This is a good time to dry your tears! 😭

SxF . Vol 11 - Emile and Ewen - Hill House Chair

The Hill House Chair was designed by Scottish architect and designer Charles Rennie Mackintosh in 1902 for the Hill House residence in Helensburgh, Scotland. The design has a strong Japanese influence, which Mackintosh incorporated into his work after being exposed to Japanese aesthetics during the Glasgow International Art Exhibition.

The chair is in Mackintosh's "Glasgow Style", which is characterized by straight, simple lines and shapes. The chair, along with the rest of the furniture, was designed to integrate with the architecture and décor of the building, resulting in a harmonious and balanced ensemble.

Both the Willow chair and Hill House Chair are designs by Mackintosh, which is characterized by simple lines, geometric shapes and a modernist sensibility that gives them a unique and recognizable look. In terms of style and architectural context, the chairs have important differences in terms of form and functionality. The Willow Chair is a low chair with a curved back and woven seat, while the Hill House Chair is a taller, slimmer chair with a rectangular back and upholstered seat.

Damian-sama!!

There are two very interesting details that I could highlight and the language of the objects with respect to the chair, and the characters. Unlike Damian, the proportion of the chairs with respect to both children is much more harmonious unlike Damian whose chair stands out easily and its size is huge with respect to his size, indicating that while Damian projects greatness, Emile and Ewen are the complementation, both stand out, but balance each other at the same time, and do not overshadow Damian-Sama!

It is very interesting, given that the chair selection reflects this bond of friends/followers. While the chairs have different contexts, while Willow Chiar's has a primary function, the Hill House has the function of complementing the decor. Pointing out how the personalities of Emile and Ewen is to complement Damian.

Like Becky, the reflection of each other's personality is evident, they are notorious and not hidden. While Ewen has a passion for space, astronauts and the stars; Emile is a lover of sweets and all kinds of junk food. However, in the middle of both of them there is an obvious bond for explorer adventures. Having his picture with Damian in the center, because their bond as friends is very genuine!

SxF . Vol 12 - Sylvia Sherwood - Diamond Chair

The Diamond Chair, also known as the Bertoia Chair, was created by sculptor and designer Harry Bertoia in 1952. It was originally designed for Knoll International and has become a symbol of 20th century industrial and avant-garde design.

Bertoia designed the chair because of his desire to explore new forms and techniques of furniture making. Inspiration came from his interest in experimenting with steel wires, which allowed him to create light and elegant structures.

The motive was to achieve a perfect combination of form and comfort, which would be attractive but also ergonomic and comfortable to use. The chair's curved steel wire frame allows for breathability and provides flexible support, adapting to the user's body. Its design is minimalist and timeless, as well as its versatility and ability to adapt to a variety of environments.

"Stop waiting for easy answers to fall into your lap, Rookie. Use that head of yours to find them for yourself"

Both Fullmetal Lady and Diamond Chair could be described as elegant, sophisticated and modern. In addition, the attention to detail and quality workmanship reflect a high-end personality and refinement that projects the experience Handler has in executing its work. At the same time, its comfort and ergonomics demonstrate a concern for the well-being and experience of the user, which makes it friendly and welcoming, one of the most human characteristics of Sylvia who, although she is a relentless woman, also knows how to relate to her humanity, and reminds her little spies that having a soft spot is part of them.

While the folders and surely confidential papers are shuffled and exposed, reminiscent of Handler's main role, we can see subtly hidden the family photograph that is pierced by the chair leg reflecting the rupture caused by the war of losing her husband and young daughter. For no matter the passage of time, it will always be something that will accompany her.

You can read the previous part here

#twiyor #spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #loid x yor #yor briar #anya forger #twilight #sxf #spyxfamily twilight #spy x family manga #spy family #sylvia sherwood #spy x familyx chair

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

Photo

Built at the turn of the nineteenth century, the Blue Cabin was always a holiday house. When UK architects and artists, Ben and Jill bought the property in 2009 it was white, and shuttered so they painted it blue.

The red door and window frames bring a happy contrast to the already vibrant color of the cabin.

The cabin is a vision of primary colors, with the same strong blue inside and lots of beach toys to bring a seaside feel.

Two traditional chairs with woven backs and seats keep the warmth from the fire in their hooded backs.

The living area was reconfigured to have three windows and views out to the sea. They made the interior chic rather than rustic.

One bedroom features bunk beds.

The cutout art is seaweed, with kelp and bladder wrack shaping cut-outs in the boxed-in bedrooms. I’ve never heard of boxed bedrooms- they really are in a box.

Navigational charts paper walls across the cabin.

The other bedroom features the same green color and cut out forms, with a boxed in double bed.

It’s just so cute!

https://www.houseandgarden.co.uk/gallery/ben-tindall-blue-scottish-cabin-by-the-sea

#small cabin #vacation cabin #holiday cabine #blue cabin by the sea

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seraphiism · 1 year

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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬

( what am i thinking, fooling myself into the belief that i'm capable of anything at all? )

chara : kaveh fandom : genshin impact quote cr : marya hornbacher a/n : gender neutral reader. talks of self-deprecation

I. 9 : 24 pm OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST BRILLIANT OF MINDS WAVER, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY ON AN ARCHITECT'S SHOULDERS. there is a tiring, a discouragement, and the creeping doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

how quickly time passes, slips through his fingers. the seconds tick and tick and tick ; he counts them : one two three four, but the seconds twist to hours in a blur, a haze that he cannot seek safe passage from, and he knows he is losing against time.

his head pounds, throbs with countless thoughts that race and cannot be put at ease. he shuts his eyes, elbows on his desk, and buries his face in his hands.

inhale, exhale. he is so terribly tired.

inhale again, shaky. exhale once more, trembling, on the verge of break.

he wants to give up, call it, admit defeat, admit that maybe he's lost his touch, found an ending to diamond days. he is so terribly exhausted, a worn heart beating only enough to pay grievances to muscle memory and give so little towards a withering creativity.

maybe he isn't meant for this anymore. perhaps he never was from the beginning.

inhale. exhale. a soul hangs on edge, sinews of gold awaiting in restoration for the quiet breaking of it all.

"kaveh?"

he straightens his posture, turns towards you with wide eyes. he has always worn his heart proudly on his sleeve, found vulnerability to be a beautiful thing in everyone but himself at rare times. a panic in red hues, then the forceful drowning of sorrows as he smiles a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

you place the cup of tea before him, watching his shoulders relax at the warmth of it and the feeling of your hand on his back. he offers his thanks, smiles yet again, but there is something so heart wrenching in it that you cannot even think.

you nod, purse your lips, lean back on the desk ever so slightly. there are sketches and plans scattered about, works in progress both polished and unpolished, some wielding haphazard marks of frustration in stagnancy. you find yourself unsure of what to say, of how to comfort him, because you do not know what you can do to support him, not really. you do not share the same knowledge as he does in his craft, though you always find fascination in his ramblings for future designs and projects.

"i'm alright." he immediately tells you, hands on the teacup. it burns, yet he does not let go. he does not wish to concern you, not when the fault lies entirely with him. this should be easy, shouldn't take this long, yet he cannot make progress despite the efforts put forth. this should be easy. "just a little tired, that's all."

he watches the way your brows furrow ever so slightly, the concern on your features unable to be hidden. you reach a hand out, one he takes with such ease and gentleness. it burns.

"let go, love. it'll hurt you."

he releases his hold on the tea cup. the sensation goes away, leaves a kind numbness in its absence. you squeeze his hand, your lips a ghost of a touch against his knuckles.

"don't burn yourself, kaveh."

II. 12 : 47 am OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST RESILIENT STAGGER, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY ON AN ARCHITECT'S MIND. there is a knowing, a resignation, and the sharp doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

the tea cup is cold and empty, desolate. his fingers trace over it, the gold woven in porcelain so bright and yet so quick to shatter. sleep rests heavy on his eyes, lashes fluttering in failed means to stay awake, but he is losing against slumber.

his head aches ; he cannot seem to think, to move, to do anything. he is so very tired of this all. he leans back in the chair, tilts his head back and shuts his eyes.

in and out. deep breath. he releases the tension from his shoulders, loosens his jaw. he does not know how long he stills for -- it feels as if it's only seconds, but he opens his eyes to the sight of your approach, glances at the clock and realizes that minutes have passed.

he looks up at you when you lean over him, one hand resting on the chair, another pinching his cheek as you smile, fatigued. it is getting late. he is used to working through the night, but it feels later than it should, feels like time is both endless and almost nearing.

"you shouldn't wait for me." he tells you, gentle. "i'll be with you soon."

you hum, half skeptical and half amused. you lean down, kiss his forehead, then his lips, watch his wondrous smile bloom from your love.

"want more tea?"

"it's alright." kaveh responds, reaching up for you in silent plea for yet another act of ardor. "i just want you to sleep."

you kiss him again, smile against his lips.

"if you need me, i'm here, okay?"

there is a softness & kindness he is all too familiar with in your words, but there is something in the way you look at him that speaks more than either of you could ever say. you linger for a moment longer than usual as you exchange goodnights, and when you leave him, his heart feels lonelier than ever.

he can do this, he can, he tells himself, over and over, until it is a mantra of empty significance : meaningless, haunting, and worthless.

he can do this.

inhale, exhale. he is so terribly tired.

III. 4 : 13 am OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST RESOLUTE FALL, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY IN AN ARCHITECT'S HEART. there is an echo of failure, a surrendering, and the doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

oh, love, how his hands shake so, even in your hold.

he cannot do this, not anymore. what a lie that all was ; it is almost funny, he thinks, but he breaks entirely, cracks beneath the weight of it all. gods, he is so tired, so tired of doing this, tired of feeling like he's not enough, like he'll never be enough.

"come." you beckon him, his hand in yours as you lead him to bed. something in your heart brewed unease, knew that when you woke, he would not be at your side.

he does not bother to fight anymore, knew it was over the moment you took sight of him shrouded in heartache and misery as his tears fell and fell, endless as his mind told him of his unworthiness. how easily he let you drag him away from his work, finding himself so pitiful for seeking comfort in all he loved and knew.

you are the first to lie down in the bed you share, tugging at him gently as he follows after you. you hold him as close as you can, hand on the back of his head as his tears grace your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

you stay silent, hug him as he cries until there are no tears to be found. it is quiet, this time and space that you both know to be haven.

"did you know," you begin, kissing his head as your fingers weave through blond locks, "that my haven is wherever you are?" you feel his grasp on you tighten, desperate. "everyone has somewhere that they cherish deeply, don't they? whether it's home or anywhere they feel safe."

there is something warm that falls on your skin, trails down your neck. you smile, your voice tender.

"everything and every place you have ever built is someone's haven, kaveh. you made someone's home, made a place where someone sleeps, made a place where someone falls in love. you are so wonderfully bright and brilliant-- so hardworking and kind. i won't let you forget that, not even for a little bit."

he cannot bring himself to speak, cannot even bring himself to stifle the sobs that escape. you hum a gentle lullaby, one you know that he once loved as a child, hold him until the words sink in and the self-hatred abates. it is when he finally looks at you that you stop, allow the still air to return once more. there it is, you think -- that revival of hope, a semblance of returning courage to try once again.

he tries to talk, tries to say thank you, but words are not enough, but you know. you know him as well as you know yourself, so you nod, understanding of it all.

"there's always tomorrow, dearest. we can try again tomorrow."

he is the one who nods this time, exhaustion hitting full force from everything he has felt today. yes, kaveh thinks, there is always a tomorrow. a tomorrow where he wakes by your side, a tomorrow where he wishes you a good morning, and a tomorrow to try again.

he murmurs a thank you, i love you into the etches of your skin, and finally succumbs to the divinity that is you. in the echoes of a moonlit night, you fall asleep together, knowing that there will be better days ahead.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yaepublishinghouse #astronetwrk #kaveh x reader #i lov him ................ i cherish him #.: writing

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