#Hand Tufted Carpet for Hallway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mangionebabymama · 8 days ago

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Hearing bbd lu with his baby boy telling him you know I’m never leaving mommy right no matter what happens 🥹

While you were heading down the hall to pick up a pack of baby wipes from the closet, you heard the quiet sound of Luigi’s voice floating in from the nursery.

You paused, and took a look. The door was slightly cracked open, just enough to peek through.

At first, you weren't initially trying to listen, but the warmth in his voice stopped you in your tracks, causing your feet to remain still on the hallway runner.

Inside, you saw him sitting in the rocking chair by the window—the old one his mom had offered when you were still pregnant. He swore he was going to sand and re-stain it, but he still hadn’t, despite receiving it as a gift after your baby shower, and now your baby was here, nearly six months old. Luigi sat in it anyway, his long legs stretched out over the carpet, the old rocking chair creaking softly beneath him. Your son was lifted high into the air by his tiny armpits, his soft gut supported by his father’s steady hands. His chubby legs dangled freely, like little sticks of fresh dough, warm, weightless, and glowing in the morning light.

Luigi was shirtless, of course. He always said skin-to-skin was good for bonding and beneficial for the baby’s health, that it helped him feel safe and secure, soothed his little heart rate, steadied his breathing, and even stabilized his blood sugar levels. But deep down, you knew it was more than that. He just loved the feel of his son against his chest, warm and close, like he never wanted to let go. His big arms were tanned from spending so much time outside lately, kissed golden by the sun. And there was something in the way he looked at your baby, like the world had narrowed to just this moment, that made your throat tighten, aching with a love too big to hold.

“Look at you,” Luigi sighed, feeling soft and a bit amazed, his eyes locked on your son’s wide, blinking stare. “You’re getting so big. I can’t even believe what I’m seeing. It feels like you just got here, and now, you’re outgrowing every damn onesie your mom buys.”

Your son babbled at him, mouth wide, gummy and happy, “Oh yeah?” Luigi grinned, bouncing him gently, his thick fingers holding him steady. “You think so?”

You smiled from the hallway, hand pressed against the doorframe, heart aching in that quiet, unexpected way. There was no doubt that Luigi was his father, and your child was his son. Your baby looked just like him: those tufts of soft, brown, dainty curls that had started growing in at the crown of his head, the exact shade of Luigi’s hair; those big, brown, innocent and childlike hazel eyes that reminded you of Bambi; the same long lashes that no man, nor his son, deserved to have; and that same pout when he was hungry. This beautiful little boy of yours was a little Luigi, through and through.

“Your mama says you look like her,” he whispered, leaning in so their foreheads touched. “But between you and me? That’s a lie.”

The baby giggled, so innocent and joyful, catching Luigi by surprise. He froze, his eyes widening in shock, before a gentle smile spread across his face. His entire demeanor shifted as the sound of his son’s laughter dissolved any tension that could have threatened the intimacy of their shared time together, leaving him awestruck by the moment.

“Ohhh, you like that, huh?” he laughed, lowering him into his lap and cradling him closer. “You’re trouble already.”

Luigi rocked slowly in the chair, his eyes tracing over your baby’s face like he was still memorizing every detail, even after all this time. You stood there in quiet awe, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze, at how completely he adored the little life you had made together. Your baby blinked up at him, wide-eyed and dreamy, his tiny mouth curling into the beginnings of a sleepy smile, as if he could feel the love wrapped around him like morning sun.

“You know I’m never leaving Mommy, right?” he said suddenly, voice dipping quietly, like it was just between the two of them. “No matter what happens. Even if she doesn’t wanna hear it right now, I’m here—for her and for you.”

Your baby cooed, lifting one pudgy hand to touch Luigi’s chest, and he covered it gently with his palm, anchoring it there.

“I don’t care what’s going on,” he continued, eyes full of something deeper than anything you could name. “She could push me away a thousand times, and I’d still show up. I’d still tuck you in. I’d still take care of her. Because I love her, buddy. And I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything.”

Your throat tightened. You hadn’t meant to get emotional; it had been months since the breakup, and you were doing well. You had adjusted to this new chapter, learning how to co-parent with grace, and you’d healed from most of it. You were even beginning to figure out how to be around him again without it hurting.

Luigi pressed a kiss to your son’s soft curls, his lips lingering for a moment as he whispered, “I just can’t believe how fast you’re growing. One day, I won’t be able to hold you like this anymore. You’ll be too big, all grown up. So, for now, I’m going to hold on just a little longer while we’re here, okay?”

Your baby blinked up at him, his eyes peaceful and wide, his tiny body nestled comfortably against his dad’s chest. It was as though, in that moment, he understood the weight of the words being spoken, accepting the reality of everything as it was then, as it is now, and as it will be, with the future still unknown.

And you, still standing in the hallway, unseen, watching this little precious moment unfold, felt it too. No matter how messy things had been, or how far apart you and Luigi had drifted in those first months of parenthood, this was real—at least for now, the present was understood.

Wiping away a few tears, you slowly stepped back from the door, granting them their moment alone in the nursery.

#mangionebabymama asks #luigi mangione x prompt #oh bbd lu i love you #baby mama’s blurbs

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rainforestakiie · 9 months ago

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Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 01

hello! here is a a new au! another request from @inubaki!

'A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

this is my take on the prist x devil trope!

hope you like it!

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

Since his earliest years, Adam had always been an anomaly. Even as a young child, he stood out, his peculiarities setting him apart from his peers. By the tender age of eight, he was acutely aware of his differences, yet the world around him scarcely noticed. His childhood unfolded against a backdrop of grim, grey walls, punctuated by the cacophony of his parents' relentless arguments and the oppressive presence of countless crucifixes nailed to every available surface. A singularly disturbing painting dominated the bleak decor.

Adam's gaze was irresistibly drawn to the family's most unnerving artwork. It depicted a gaunt woman, eerily elongated, as though she had been stretched to unnatural proportions. Her mouth gaped in a grotesque, elongated manner, her eyes bulging with a disturbing intensity. Clad in a black dress, her hair seemed to meld into the fabric, an indistinguishable mass. This figure was nightmarish, a vision of horror that haunted Adam. The woman's mouth appeared to harbour a multitude of teeth, far more than humanly possible, and instead of a nose, she had two snake-like slits.

His loathing for the painting ran deep. Desperation drove him to steal it, hide it, bury it, and even set it ablaze, but each time, it inexplicably reappeared on the wall, as if untouched by his efforts. This inexplicable phenomenon left Adam doubting his own actions, questioning his sanity.

Rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to dispel the haunting image, the young boy turned away and made his way down the long, shadowy corridor to the kitchen. He deliberately avoided glancing at his parents' room, where his mother lay sprawled on top of the quilts, oblivious in her beer-induced slumber. Beer cans littered the floor, crunching underfoot as he approached the kitchen, each step a reminder of the oppressive atmosphere that suffused his home.

Adam wasn't known for his cleanliness. His teachers had noticed and reported his dishevelled appearance countless times. He was much too scrawny for an eight-year-old, often mistaken for being six at most. His brown and red hair appeared almost black, sticking up in wild tufts. His emerald eyes, once bright and shining, now seemed dull and lifeless. His clothes hung off him like oversized sheets. Adam never spoke; he only stared and stared and stared.

As he finally reached the kitchen, a strong stench of smoke began to fill his nose. Adam was unlike other children, unlike most humans in general. How could he have known any better at just eight years old? He didn’t notice the disarray of his parents' room, nor how his mother didn’t look as peaceful as she usually did when she slept. The red paint on the carpet trailed from the hallway into the kitchen, staining his bare feet as he walked. The beer cans scattered across the floor became smeared with red as he stepped on them.

He remained silent as he finally entered the kitchen, his empty, dim green eyes staring blankly at the figures that seemed to be waiting for him. They were strange-looking, unusual. Clad in long ruby-burnt red robes with oversized hoods, their faces and hands were hidden from view. It looked like a scene from a television show. The group stood around a chair, but when Adam stepped into the kitchen that early Wednesday morning, all the robed figures turned to look at him.

The paint and ketchup smeared across the floor, especially around the chair, went unnoticed by Adam. He blinked once when one of the robed figures stepped forward and crouched down. Adam stared into the hood but couldn't see the person's face. A pitch-black, unnatural hand emerged from the robe.

"Adam, we've been waiting for you," the figure spoke. "We've been sent to retrieve you."

"Adam does not speak," another robed figure reminded. "Do not forget that."

Adam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked up at the strange figures before finally placing his skeletal hand into the awaiting dark hand. He stared up at the figure as they stood and began leading him towards the front door.

Just as Adam was about to step through the doorway, he turned to look over his shoulder. He saw his father, passed out at the kitchen table as usual, hands hanging limply over the side. Red-stained beer cans littered the floor, and red paint dripped ominously from the table.

Maybe it wasn’t paint or ketchup. Or anything like that.

It was all a blur afterward.

The robed figures weren’t as kind as Adam had hoped. No, he knew from the moment he saw them that they were far from kind. But he was only a small, weak child. What could he have done? He was led away from his home, away from his indifferent family, away from the bullies who tormented him. Adam was taken from everything he knew.

He couldn’t comprehend where he was taken. He would never be able to explain it to anyone. It was a place shrouded in darkness, surrounded by dense trees, caves, and cliffs. The sky loomed ominously, the clouds thundering as if God Himself was aware of the impending horrors. A flash of lightning struck the top of the building, making the lightbulbs flicker ominously.

Adam was placed in a dim room where he was scrubbed clean. His hair was shampooed and conditioned, and he was given real food that his frail stomach couldn’t handle. He was dressed in more comfortable clothes as the storm clouds continued to thunder and roar, rain tapping insistently against the window. Adam stared at the glass, mesmerised by the relentless tapping. He wasn’t anxious as he waited; he didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he knew it was coming. Finally, a robed figure came to retrieve him.

Everything became even more indistinct. Adam was led through darker corridors, where candles were arranged at odd angles, some hanging precariously off shelves. He stared at a red one as he passed, its tiny flame black and grey, unlike any other candle flames.

He was brought into a vast hall with black stained-glass windows forming a dome above. Rows of stools faced a single direction, toward a pale, grey altar at the center. Red candles lined the base of the altar, their black flames appearing to hover above them. Goat skulls were interspersed among the candles, some hanging ominously above the altar. Upside-down crosses, reminiscent of the ones his parents nailed to their walls, adorned the hall.

Adam didn’t know where to look. The robed figure beside him led him down a long red carpet toward the altar. Hands pinched his underarms, lifting him onto the table, and gestured for him to lie down. As Adam’s head touched the cold surface, he stared blankly up at the stained glass above, watching as moon-like symbols glowed across the ceiling. Wooden beams criss crossed above, more candles lining them and casting intricate patterns.

A different robed figure approached his left. Unlike the others, this one wore a white robe, like an angel, adorned with red markings. The sleeves were much longer, almost reaching the floor, and a red leaf was sewn into the centre of the robe. It was a strange robe, Adam noticed, his eyebrows raising in confusion.

Holding an old, worn bowl, the figure dipped their fingers into crimson paint. They painted something on Adam’s forehead and cheeks, like face paint. He pretended to be fascinated, his eyes trailing back to the ceiling above him.

The figure clad in white robes began to speak, their voice a peculiar sound that Adam, too young to comprehend, chose to ignore. He rolled his head to the right, gazing down the hall where more robed figures in red stood, their eyes fixed upon him with unwavering attention.

Soon, a rhythmic chanting filled the room, causing a painful ache in Adam's ears. He moved his head back to its previous position, struggling against the encroaching fatigue. His eyelids grew heavy, darkness creeping into the corners of his vision. With a weary sigh, he succumbed to sleep’s pull, but only for a brief time.

When Adam’s eyes fluttered open again, his vision was a haze. The screams that filled the air were deafening, a cacophony of terror. A nauseating stench, foreign and unsettling, clawed at his senses, causing his stomach to churn. He raised his hand to cover his nose and squinted through the blur. A black candle, its flame an eerie white, flickered directly beside his head—strangely different from the red candles.

As the horrifying screams intensified, Adam found himself alone on the altar. The figure in the white robe had vanished, leaving him surrounded by a splatter of dark red paint. It stained the sides of the altar and had speckled his new clothes and skin. This paint was a deeper hue, contrasting sharply with the lighter face paint.

As he tilted his head in confusion, a sudden hand grasped his cheek, forcing him to look straight ahead. Hovering above him was a figure that defied human description. The being, dressed in a white suit with a red vest reminiscent of something from a circus, was more impish than human. Their platinum blonde hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks gave them an almost enchanting but unsettling appearance. Golden and ruby eyes glimmered with a sinister allure, and an oversized white top hat crowned their head, entwined with a live golden snake hissing around its base. Initially, Adam had thought the snake was a trick, but it was very much alive.

For the first time in years, Adam spoke. His voice was shaky as he pointed his red-painted hand at the figure. "You have no nose."

A wide, unsettling grin split across the imp's face, revealing a row of razor-sharp teeth.

As Adam straightened up, a serpentine black tail with a gleaming arrowhead tip captured his attention, swishing with an almost hypnotic grace. The impish figure twirled around the table in a sinuous, mesmerising dance, their hooves clicking rhythmically against the floor. Their hands, sharp and clawed, moved with a fluid elegance that was both unsettling and captivating.

The imp, with a flamboyant charm reminiscent of a circus performer, fell to one knee, extending a clawed hand in a gesture of invitation. Adam, wide-eyed with curiosity, grasped the hand with both of his small, trembling ones. His emerald eyes fixated on the claw as he gingerly stepped off the altar, the imp's hand steadying him with an effortless ease.

Yet, despite the imp's dazzling smile, Adam's gaze was drawn to the macabre scene behind the figure. The room was splattered with a grotesque mixture of red paint and other, more disturbing substances. Shredded robes and chunks of meat lay strewn about, and the dark crimson paint was splattered everywhere, as though someone had tried to transform the hall into a nightmare of black and red. Some of the paint even dripped from the ceiling. As Adam's head began to tilt upward in horror, the imp playfully pushed it back down, their grin widening.

With a delicate yet firm grip, the imp led Adam down the shadowy hallways, their swishing tail always in Adam's peripheral vision, keeping him entranced. The two moved through the hallways, now painted in an even deeper shade of red, up a staircase, and finally emerged into the stormy night. The sky roared with thunder, and lightning crackled with a fierce intensity, casting jagged shadows across the trees.

The moment they stepped outside, the lightning illuminated the forest, setting the trees ablaze with a surreal conflagration of black and white flames. The fire roared and howled, devouring branches and trunks, and creeping toward the grass below. Adam's breath caught in his throat as he clutched the imp in terror, his green eyes widening with a mixture of fear and awe. Sensing Adam's fear, the imp squeezed his hand reassuringly and thrust his other hand skyward. From the tip of his claw burst a cascade of golden fireworks that danced across the stormy sky.

Adam gasped, his fear melting into astonished delight. The display was breathtakingly beautiful—more wondrous than anything he'd ever seen on television. His face broke into a wide, joyous grin, mirroring the imp's own.

The imp, now beaming with even more exuberance, continued to release bursts of fireworks as they guided Adam through the forest. Adam's eyes followed every dazzling explosion of gold, even the charming, golden-hued ducks that fluttered through the sky. The rain poured down in torrents, but Adam was too enraptured to notice the downpour growing heavier.

Time seemed to stretch as they walked, though Adam felt no fatigue. The imp held his hand firmly, leading him across an endless stretch of countryside. Rolling grasslands stretched to the horizon, with sheep grazing on one side and cows on the other. Blackbarred fences lined their path until they reached a towering, ominous structure.

A church loomed before them, its bell tower illuminated by sporadic bursts of lightning. The building, three stories high, was adorned with white stone steps leading up to double oak doors. Stained-glass windows depicted cryptic scenes of angels in battle, swords, and halos, their colors flickering in the storm's light. Gargoyles perched on the steps, their eyes following every movement.

The imp guided Adam up the imposing steps with patient care, never growing impatient despite Adam's struggle. His grin was wide and sharp-toothed, an unsettling yet strangely magnetic feature. Once they reached the porch, the imp began wiping the red paint from Adam's face, their fingers deftly clearing away the mess. With a snap of the imp’s fingers, the paint vanished from Adam's clothes, leaving him drenched but clean.

The door knocker suddenly moved of its own accord, rising and slamming down with a thunderous crash that echoed through the church, startling Adam. Another peal of thunder rolled behind him as he turned to face the door. It creaked open slowly, revealing a woman's face framed by a warm, golden glow. She gazed down at Adam, her expression one of concern.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she murmured, her voice tender. She lowered herself to Adam's level, her black dress pooling around her. Her hands, soft yet firm, rested on his shoulders. “You’re drenched to the bone and shivering. Where are your parents? Are you alone out here?”

Alone? Adam blinked in confusion. He turned to look for the imp but found only emptiness. The imp had vanished, leaving Adam standing alone on the porch. His heart sank as he realised that his enigmatic friend had left him once again.

“Don’t worry, dear,” the nun said, taking Adam’s hand in her own. “I’ll take care of you. Come inside, where it’s safe. This storm is only going to get worse.”

Adam glanced back over his shoulder as the nun led him into the church. His lip quivered as he saw the imp standing in the distance, waving with a final, dazzling grin before vanishing in a shower of golden sparkles.

“My name is Sister Sera,” the nun said with a warm smile. “I will take care of you.”

That was the very first time Adam had ever seen his ‘imaginary friend’. The Devil, himself, the King of Hell.

~#~

Growing up within the Church was a peculiar experience for Adam. From the moment Sister Sera realized he was not six, but eight years old, he was promptly enrolled in the church's educational program run by the stern Sister Uriel. She was strict and had a penchant for slamming her long ruler against surfaces, a tool often used to reprimand Adam. His hands bore the brunt of her discipline, frequently stinging from her swift strikes when he failed to grasp the lessons. Despite his earnest efforts, comprehension eluded him.

The sun was his nemesis, its harsh rays causing him physical discomfort, forcing him to remain indoors while other children frolicked outside. He would sit in the library, perched next to the window, his gaze fixed through the tinted glass at the children playing below. His small hands rested on the oak desk, golden and brown bruises marring his skin. His apple-green eyes, filled with a longing that belied his silence, watched the other children kick balls, play tag, and skip rope.

Adam was always inside, trapped by the sun's cruel touch. The other children found him peculiar, taunting him with his incessant staring and silence. Sister Sera tried everything to coax words from him, but Adam remained mute, with nothing to say.

With a heavy sigh, Adam returned his attention to the history textbook Sister Sera had given him. If he couldn't play outside like a regular boy, he was to study. Study until he matched the intelligence of the other ten-year-olds. But the material bored him. He cared little for when the church was built or why Father Michael insisted it face north. His loneliness and boredom gnawed at him. He glanced through the window again, yearning to join the other children but knowing they would shun him as they did within the church walls.

Propping his elbow on the desk, Adam rested his cheek against his hand, his eyes welling with tears. He felt utterly alone. His green eyes shifted when he heard the soft patter of feet on the wooden floor. Tilting his head, he wondered if he had dozed off.

Something incredibly small was waddling between the desks, making its way around the library shelves. Adam stared for a moment before sliding off his stool to follow the curious creature. Peeking around the bookshelf, he found himself staring at a... duck?

Indeed, it was a duck. Its webbed feet made soft slapping sounds against the wood as it waddled along, its orange and yellow feathers ruffling gently. But the strangest thing was the little white top hat perched on its head. Adam had never seen anything like it.

He cocked his head in wonder, slipping out from behind the bookshelf to trail after the duck.

A little duck wearing a top hat—it was like something out of the forbidden books Sister Sera disapproved of. She had caught Adam reading one once and promptly confiscated it. If Adam wasn’t supposed to read such books, why were they in the church’s library to begin with? The thought puzzled him, but the sight of the duck made his heart swell with a sense of magical wonder.

Adam followed the duck, walking slowly and carefully, afraid of frightening his new friend away. The duck made another turn, its tail bobbing side to side. Adam rounded the corner and gasped; the duck was gone. He stopped in the middle of the aisle, his shoulders sagging. Where had the duck gone? He glanced around, his nose scrunching up in worry. Had he imagined it all? Sister Sera often said he had an overactive imagination and that it was dangerous.

Suddenly, a quack echoed from above, and Adam barely had time to react as a book tumbled from the top shelf. It fell like a sack of potatoes, nearly hitting him on the head. He stepped back just in time, and the heavy book slammed into the floor with a booming thud that reverberated through the library. He was lucky everyone was outside, or he would have certainly been reprimanded for causing trouble.

Adam looked up to see the duck perched on the top shelf, staring down at him with a golden twinkle in its beady black eyes. The top hat made the duck stand out, but now that Adam was closer, he noticed the duck had strange rosy cheeks. How peculiar. Adam shrugged and knelt down, drawn by the book the duck had knocked off.

As he settled onto his knees, something much softer and lighter than the book landed on his head. Adam gasped, jumping slightly as the duck nestled comfortably on top of his head. A meek smile twitched across his lips, and he hesitated before raising a hand to touch the duck’s soft feathers. The duck nuzzled into his hand, and Adam grinned. He liked ducks, he decided. Very much so.

Sitting against the bottom bookshelf, Adam dragged the heavy book onto his lap. It was thick, with many faded pages. The cover was made of red and black leather, like snakeskin, and a metal strap held it shut. The writing was strange, more like symbols that Adam couldn’t read. He lightly brushed his fingertips across the cover and bit down on his bottom lip.

The duck released another quack and flapped its wings, sending a swirl of golden light around them. Adam squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and when he opened them again, he found that the symbols had transformed into readable letters.

"The History of Hell."

Adam swallowed thickly. He would definitely be punished if he were caught with this book. He glanced at his bruised hands but felt an irresistible pull from the book. Something magical had happened with the duck in the top hat leading him to it.

How bad could it be?

With one hand gently petting the duck on his head, Adam used the other to unclasp the heavy book. It sprang open as if it had a mind of its own, the pages fanning out before settling on one filled with vivid illustrations and sparse text. Perfect for his first step. Adam wasn’t perfect at reading, but he would make do.

“A million years ago, there was a single being titled an Archangel…” Adam began to read aloud, unaware of the prideful duck perched above him.

The page before him depicted a magnificent being, radiant and powerful, with expansive wings that seemed to glow with an inner light. The Archangel's face was serene yet commanding, eyes like molten gold staring out from the page. Surrounding the figure were scenes of celestial battles, angels with swords clashing against dark, twisted creatures.

As Adam read, the room seemed to grow darker, the air thickening with an otherworldly presence. The duck on his head quacked softly, a sound that echoed eerily in the suddenly oppressive silence. Adam's heart pounded, but he continued, captivated by the unfolding story.

“The Archangel, a paragon of purity and strength, hope, dreams and creation, was tasked with guiding the very first human. However, pride and ambition led to a tragic fall…” Adam’s voice wavered slightly as he turned the page, revealing a dramatic scene of the Archangel plummeting from the skies, his once-radiant wings darkened and tattered.

The images were almost too vivid, as if they were alive. Adam felt a shiver run down his spine, the air around him crackling with energy. He glanced up momentarily, half-expecting to see the Archangel descending into the library. The duck quacked again, more urgently this time, its little feet tapping against his head.

Adam turned back to the book, his curiosity overpowering his fear. “Upon his fall, the Archangel was cast into the depths of Hell, where he was transformed into the first Demon King, ruler of the infernal realms…”

As he read these words, the golden light from the duck intensified, casting strange, dancing shadows on the walls. The library around him seemed to fade away, replaced by a vision of fiery landscapes and towering, nightmarish figures. Adam could almost feel the heat, smell the sulphur.

The duck nuzzled his head again, bringing him back to the present. Adam blinked, shaking off the intense vision. He looked down at the book, the pages still glowing softly. He realised that this was no ordinary book; it was a gateway to a world beyond his understanding.

“The Morning Star…” he read quietly.

Adam took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he petted the duck for comfort. “It can’t be that bad,” he whispered to himself, though the lingering sense of dread in his chest told him otherwise. But the pull of the book, the allure of its forbidden knowledge, was too strong to resist.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Adam continued to read, each word drawing him deeper into the dark, magical history that lay hidden within the pages.

"Lucifer?" Adam breathed out, tracing his fingers across the intricate drawing of the King of Hell. "Swore to never rest until he had his soul mate, the first human, back where they belong. In his arms."

Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed through the hall as the library doors slammed against the walls. The sharp, rhythmic click of high heels reverberated through the floor, making Adam feel the vibrations beneath him.

“Adam?” Sister Sera’s voice called out, a mix of concern and authority.

In a panic, Adam shoved the book under the bottom shelf. He made a mental note of its hiding place, his heart racing. Standing up, he noticed his head felt oddly light. His heart sank as he realised the duck had vanished into thin air.

“Adam,” Sister Sera sighed, hurrying towards him, her long dress swirling around her ankles. “There you are. Why are you hiding all the way back here in the dark?”

Adam swallowed hard, his mind racing for an excuse. He glanced at the spot where the book was hidden, making sure it was well-concealed.

Sister Sera’s stern gaze softened slightly as she reached him, her eyes studying his face. “You know you’re not supposed to be back here alone. The library is for supervised reading only,” she chided gently, her tone a mix of admonishment and concern.

Adam nodded, his heart still pounding.

She sighed again, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Curiosity is natural, Adam, but there are rules for a reason. Come along now. It’s time for your lessons.”

As she guided him out of the dark corner of the library, Adam stole one last glance at the hidden book. The weight of its forbidden knowledge tugged at him, a promise of dark secrets and ancient truths. But for now, he had to obey.

As they walked down the hall, Sister Sera’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. “Adam, remember, we only seek knowledge that enlightens us, not that which tempts us to stray from the path.”

He nodded again, but his thoughts remained on the book, on Lucifer’s quest for his soul mate, and on the magical duck that had led him to it. The mysteries of the dark tome lingered in his mind, a tantalising promise of adventures yet to come.

For now, he would wait. But he knew that he would return to the library, to the book, and to the secrets it held. He couldn’t resist the pull of the unknown, the allure of the forbidden.

As they reached the classroom, Sister Sera paused, looking down at him with a mixture of fondness and sternness. “Now, let’s focus on your studies, Adam. Knowledge is a powerful tool, but it must be wielded wisely.”

Adam nodded, slipping into his seat. He opened his textbook, but his mind was elsewhere, already plotting his next visit to the hidden book and the dark, thrilling mysteries it promised to unveil.

Maybe he’ll see the duck again.

~#~

Adam was thirteen when Sister Emily arrived at the church. She appeared so adorably cute, with sparkling eyes and a warm smile that hypnotised Adam. Sister Emily was sweet and kind, and she often stayed inside with him. Not all the time, but more than any other nun.

Adam desperately wanted to be Sister Emily’s favourite. He behaved well and did his very best in lessons, striving to avoid punishment. He hardly got stuck on the hands now, and Sister Emily was so happy with him. She encouraged him, even teaching him how to make origami and how to draw. She took him outside during the night and taught him how to garden. Adam truly enjoyed it. Sister Sera appeared happy with his development.

Until one day, Adam noticed a change in Sister Emily. Her smile faded, and dark circles formed under her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, Addie,” Sister Emily said as she sorted through the seeds she had brought outside. The moon was full and bathed everything in a glorious light. “I’m fine. Just a little more tired than normal. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

Dragging the flower pots over, Adam placed them down and cocked his head, his green eyes glowing with wonder. Sister Emily laughed once more and patted him on the head with a sweet, small smile.

“It’s nothing serious, Addie. Just dreams. Weird dreams…” she trailed off in a daze, her face growing a sickly pale shade. Adam wanted to ask if she was alright, but no words crawled up his throat.

Sister Emily's bottom lip quivered, and her hands frantically searched her pockets until she found her rosary beads. Anxiously, she pulled them out and held them between her hands, beginning to pray. Her voice cracked and pitched as she struggled to get the words out. Tears began to build in the corners of her eyes as she stared up at the church, continuing to pray to God.

Adam tilted his head in concern. Sister Emily had changed so quickly, and Adam didn't understand why. He turned his head in the direction Sister Emily was staring, and all the hairs on his body stood up as he saw a black silhouette in the church window. The silhouette had horns and blood-red eyes. Adam's heart began to pound painfully. While he felt fear, he also knew the creature meant no harm to him.

A high-pitched scream ripped from Sister Emily, and Adam spun around. He stumbled back in horror as thick red beads began to run down her pale cheeks. Sister Emily fell to her knees, her bony fingers clawing at her face as she released a series of screeches.

"My eyes! My eyes!"

"Sister Emily?" Sister Sera screamed from the church doors. "Emily, what's the matter?"

Adam stumbled out of the way as the other nuns rushed to aid Sister Emily. He didn't understand what was happening and found himself turning back to the window where the creature had been, only to find it gone. He gulped painfully, a churning sensation racing through him. He had a feeling Sister Emily was being hurt because of him...

There was something dark inside the Church. Something dangerous that was attached to him…

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #au #fanficiton #lucifer x adam #adamsapple #guitarduck #a03 #hazbin hotel adam #lucifer #devil lucifer

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star--anon · 2 months ago

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a quick, short Valentines Thominho post for the soul

(dear reader, this ended up being neither short nor quick. But I hope it's cute)

about a year ago, Minho made one of those "coupon packet" things for Thomas on Valentine's (because no way in hell is he going to go buy flowers that are marked up for 250% of the price they usually are)

it's those cheap, cheesy "free dinner on me" or "free hug" coupons

Thomas laughs, and he immediately uses his "free kiss" coupon

and about a year later, the coupons have become a running joke between the two

especially the "free kiss" coupon, which somehow continues to make its reappearance despite Minho doing his best to get rid of it

not because he hates kissing Thomas, but because that's how coupons are supposed to go. They get used, and then they get thrown away

he catches Thomas fishing it back out of the trash can not even a handful of weeks after Valentine's

"This," Thomas pants as he chases the tiny index card through the jungle of paper, "is the perk of having designated trash cans. Only paper goes in the paper trash can, so this card is technically still clean."

"That's disgusting, Thomas."

"It's still clean!!!"

(Minho also has the sneaking suspicion that Thomas is remaking the "free kiss" card; Thomas once tried to cash it in when Minho knew perfectly well the real card was sitting right in his pocket, where he had put it after he'd stolen it out of the paper trash can before Thomas could get to it)

well, not every day is as easy as the next. Not every Valentine's Day is perfect or romantic

Minho plops himself glumly on the cold floorboards, right outside Thomas' locked door, and struggles not to cry

"I'm sorry."

"Save it," comes Thomas' muffled response

and maybe Minho would've tried harder if he was so angry himself

a handful of hours later, and Thomas still isn't out yet.

Minho thinks about what he'd thought today would be like, what he thought he'd be doing instead of wandering aimlessly between his own empty bedroom and the locked door of Thomas', and he cries as quietly as he can

Thomas catches a glimpse of the sunset through his window and thinks about his plan to go jogging with Minho. He curls up in his blankets and cries just as softly.

the anger is bleeding into hurt and regret

Minho chances upon an old coupon as he takes another useless walk between his bedroom and Thomas'

"free dinner on me." And then the cogs in his mind begin to turn

"free apology dinner?" with some hearts and apologetic faces for good measure. Minho can't stop the giddy flutter of hope in his chest as he makes it. He almost feels like a little kid

(and he can't help but think back to all those times in high school where he'd stayed up late, scribbling little hearts on Valentine's cards for Thomas that he knew he would never work up the courage to give him)

Thomas' bedroom is carpeted, so it's a struggle to stuff the coupon underneath the doorway

but it seems to work, because he can hear the rasp of paper against soft tufts of carpet as Thomas picks it up

much to his disappointment, nothing happens

the lights outside are climbing down the sky. The clock, which he does his best to ignore, is shining accusingly on his nightstand.

There's no more denying it. Minho makes the final trip to his bedroom. When's the last time he went to sleep alone?

he stares dully at his bed, wondering how something he'd always regarded as comfortable could ever look so cold and unappealing and alone

footsteps down the hallway. He doesn't hear them, so busy thinking about just how empty those blankets will feel tonight

warm arms around his shoulders, the tickle of air as Thomas breathes out next to Minho's ear, a hand that slips two index cards into his own hand

Minho's fingers close around the coupons, unregistering at first

one of them is the card he gave Thomas; the other is a hastily-made card that says "free apology and love" with tiny little water stains that Minho thinks might be tear drops

It all clicks in his head, what's happening, and he spins around to bury his face in Thomas' chest

(the stupid tall idiot that Thomas is)

they whisper apologies to each other, cradling one another in their arms.

when Thomas goes to throw the coupons away before getting in bed, and Minho snatches them out of his hands

#tmr thomas #tmr minho #thominho #headcanons #the maze runner #rambles #i'm bored let's talk #I don't take constructive criticism because I'm not wrong #tmr fandom #valentine's day

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phonyphreaker · 2 years ago

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Werewolves Part 2

The stark white ceiling of my dull room stated down at me, as if taunting me for being stuck. Sitting up in my small bed, a twin sized mattress that lay in a creaky bed frame, I looked at the small window in my room that used to look out over the outside world. Now it was boarded up with planks of woods, nails keeping them from moving. Even if I had a hammer to try to pull the nails out, it would take me hours, if not days. And the werwolves keeping me locked inside the big house would find out if I tried anything. Sliding out of bed, my bare feet touched the cold stone floor, sending shivers down my spine. Scraps of the carpet that used to be on the floor before the werwolves ripped it out were scattered across the ground. I reached down and yanked on the chain attached to my ankle, trying to see if it would budge. To my disappointment, it was still as strong as it had been for the past year, chained to the bed that was nailed to the floor. Straightening, I walked over to my old wooden desk in the far corner of the room, next to the closet door. The chain dragged across the floor roughly, snagging itself on stay tufts of thick carpet that still remained in tact. As I sat in the wooden rocking chair in front of my desk, I stared back at my room door. No doubt it was still locked from the outside by three locks, like it had always been. Sighing, I turned my attention back to my desk and pulled out a stiff, yellowed piece of paper from inside the desk. One short pencil and one pen lay inside the desk beside it, and I grabbed those too. Placing slightly wrinkled paper on the top of the desk, I smoothed it out, trying to picture how many sketches I could fit on the page before I had no more room. Placing the leaky black pen aside, I began to sketch tiny drawings on the paper. The sound of my breathing played the soundtrack of my activity, the pencil scraping the paper only the soft accompaniment track. Sketches of trees from the outside world, seemed now only like a distant dream as my pencil brought to life the breeze blowing through their thick branches as they let go of leaves to go on a short journey of their own. A rabbit hopped beneath the shadows of the great plants, its nose twitching as it sniffed at a patch of swaying daisies at the base of the oaks. A bird sang in the branches of the tree, calling to its mate a song of love and warmth and hoping for a quick response. A dove flew down past the trees gracefully and landed on the shallow water of a small lake, half under the shadows of the oaks branches. The water rippled, sending tiny minnows scattering in all directions, scared that another creature might come along to hunt them.

I lifted my pencil from the page and stared down at my work, feeling happy and distant, knowing that one day I would roll in the grass and splash in a lake again. I could almost hear the birds chirp in my ears and the wind brush gently against my skin. I longed to smell the outdoors and run through a meadow or climb a tree or even get chased by a wild animal. I would give anything for that. The sound of a key being turned in a lock dragged me out of my peaceful wonderland back into the cold, dark room with grey walls. My room door was flung open, bright light pouring in from the hallway. A looming figure crouched in the doorway, it’s shadow cast on my floor twisted and nightmarish. The werewolf stared daggers at me, its fur on end, making it look twice as big as I knew it was.

“Food’s ready.” It growled, its rumbling voice shaking the room and vibrating in my chest.

I quickly shoved the piece of paper back into my desk drawer, carefully smoothing it over once with my hand to make sure that it didn’t tear. After returning my pen and pencil to the drawer, I stood up and slowly approached the werewolf.

TBC.

#writing #short story #werewolf #writer things #part 2 #idk man #original story #analogy

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homeinterior012 · 5 days ago

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Wool Carpets Dubai: Where Tradition Meets Luxury

Dubai, a city known for its cutting-edge design, luxury lifestyle, and world-class shopping, is also home to a deep appreciation for timeless craftsmanship. Among the most beloved elements of traditional interior décor in Dubai are wool carpets Dubai—a luxurious and sustainable choice that blends tradition with modern sophistication. Whether in a chic urban apartment or a sprawling villa, wool carpets offer the perfect combination of beauty, comfort, and durability for homeowners in Dubai.

Why Wool Carpets?

Wool has been used in carpet-making for centuries. As a natural fiber, it offers a variety of benefits that synthetic materials struggle to match. Wool is inherently strong, resilient, and soft underfoot. It provides excellent insulation, helping to regulate temperature—cool in summer, warm in winter—making it ideal for Dubai’s desert climate where indoor environments rely heavily on air conditioning.

Wool is also a naturally flame-retardant material, adding an extra layer of safety, especially in homes with children or pets. Additionally, it has hypoallergenic properties and resists dust mites and mold, making it a great option for those with allergies or sensitivities.

The Appeal of Wool Carpets in Dubai

In a city that values both tradition and elegance, wool carpets are a natural choice. They effortlessly combine luxury with practicality, making them popular in both residential and commercial spaces. From lavish hotels to modern office spaces and cozy family homes, wool carpets enhance interiors with a sense of warmth and refinement.

What makes wool carpets especially desirable in Dubai is their ability to balance old-world craftsmanship with contemporary style. Many wool carpets are hand-tufted or hand-knotted, preserving traditional weaving techniques from regions such as Persia, India, and Turkey. At the same time, they are available in a wide range of modern designs, from minimalistic patterns to bold geometric shapes, catering to the city’s diverse population and interior design preferences.

Style, Design, and Versatility

Wool carpets in Dubai come in a vast range of colors, textures, and patterns, allowing homeowners to personalize their space with ease. Whether you’re drawn to classic Persian motifs, sleek modern lines, or the rich textures of Moroccan styles, there’s a wool carpet to suit every aesthetic.

Interior designers in Dubai often use wool carpets to define and elevate living spaces. A large area rug can anchor furniture in a living room, add coziness to a bedroom, or provide a statement piece in an entryway. Runners and smaller rugs are also used to enhance hallways, staircases, and other transitional spaces.

Where to Buy Wool Carpets in Dubai

Dubai is home to some of the finest carpet showrooms and souks in the Middle East. Places like Dubai Carpet Centre, National Carpets, and Carpetland offer extensive collections of wool carpets from around the world. For those looking for a more traditional shopping experience, the Al Fahidi Souk and Deira Carpet Souk offer authentic handwoven wool carpets in a rich cultural setting.

Many of these retailers provide customization options, allowing buyers to select size, color, and design to suit their specific needs. This personalized service is especially valuable in a city where bespoke luxury is the norm.

Caring for Wool Carpets

Wool carpets are known for their durability, but proper care will help maintain their appearance for years. Regular vacuuming prevents the build-up of dust and dirt, while prompt attention to spills can prevent staining. For deeper cleaning, professional carpet cleaning services in Dubai are readily available and experienced in handling delicate wool fibers.

Conclusion

Wool carpets Dubai are a timeless investment for homes and spaces in Dubai. Their natural beauty, durability, and luxurious feel make them an ideal choice for a city that embraces both heritage and high-end living. Whether you’re decorating a new home or refreshing your current space, a wool carpet can add warmth, elegance, and a touch of artisanal charm that’s perfectly in tune with Dubai’s unique blend of tradition and modernity.

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lunabliss2708 · 8 days ago

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Bold Blues – Hand-Tufted Geometric Carpet in Blue & White

Bring life to your hallway with this stunning 10x13 hand-tufted rug in crisp blue and white tones. The eye-catching geometric pattern adds depth, while the soft texture offers everyday comfort. A modern statement piece that blends elegance with durability — perfect for high-traffic spaces. 💫

#BlueAndWhiteRug #GeometricCarpet #HallwayDecor #HandTuftedRug #ModernRunner #RugGoals #InteriorInspo #ArtisanCarpet #StatementRug #ContemporaryStyle #BoldInteriors #CozyHallway #HandmadeHome #SoftUnderfoot #DurableDesign

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sophie-lane27 · 28 days ago

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Hand Tufted Carpet, 8x8, 10x10, 11x11, 16x16, Round, Multicolor, Floral Rug, Dining Room, Bedroom, Living Room, Hallway

➡Buy Now

#handmade rugs #area rugs #home decor #carpets and rugs #rugs #hand tufted rugs

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aeinjela · 4 months ago

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Rugs for Living room, 5x8, 6x10, 8x10, 9x13, Hand tuft carpet, Modern design, Hallway,Living Room, Premium wool area rug, Custom available

Introducing our Hand Tufted Rug, a perfect blend of elegance and comfort designed to elevate any room in your home. Available in multiple sizes—5x8, 6x10, 8x10, and 9x13—this premium wool area rug features a modern design that complements various interior styles. Whether you’re looking to enhance your living room, hallway, or any other space, our hand-tufted rug promises to deliver warmth and sophistication.

Shop Now

#Rugs for Living room #5x8 #6x10 #8x10 #9x13 #Hand tuft carpet #Modern design #Hallway #Living Room #Premium wool area rug

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anantjyoti10 · 1 month ago

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cushioncove · 1 month ago

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The Timeless Elegance of Persian Rugs: A Masterpiece for Your Home

When it comes to home decor, few items can match the sophistication, beauty, and cultural richness of a Persian rug. These stunning, handwoven masterpieces have been cherished for centuries, adding an air of luxury and warmth to any space. If you’re looking to enhance your home with a touch of elegance, investing in a Persian carpet is the perfect choice.

Why Choose a Persian Rug?

1. Unmatched Craftsmanship

Persian rugs are hand-knotted by skilled artisans who dedicate months, even years, to perfecting each piece. Every carpet is a unique work of art, featuring intricate patterns, exquisite color combinations, and a level of detail that machine-made rugs simply cannot replicate.

2. A Lasting Investment

Unlike synthetic rugs that wear out over time, a high-quality Persian rug can last for generations. Made with natural materials like wool, silk, and cotton, these carpets are durable and even increase in value as they age, making them a worthwhile investment for collectors and homeowners alike.

3. Timeless Beauty and Versatility

Persian rugs come in a variety of styles, colors, and patterns to suit any interior decor. Whether your home has a modern, traditional, or bohemian aesthetic, a Persian carpet seamlessly complements and enhances the space, adding character and charm.

4. A Piece of History in Your Home

Owning a Persian rug means possessing a piece of history and culture. Each design reflects centuries-old traditions, storytelling, and regional influences, making your rug not just a decoration but a symbol of Persian heritage and craftsmanship.

How to Choose the Perfect Persian Rug

Consider the Size: Determine the ideal size based on the room you’re decorating. A large Persian carpet makes a statement in a living room, while a smaller one adds warmth to a bedroom or hallway.

Pick a Design That Speaks to You: From intricate floral motifs to bold geometric patterns, Persian rugs come in countless designs. Choose one that resonates with your personal style and complements your existing decor.

Check the Quality: Look for high knot density and vibrant, natural dyes. Handwoven rugs have slight variations that add to their authenticity and charm.

Where to Buy Authentic Persian Rugs?

To ensure authenticity and quality, purchase from reputable dealers or trusted online stores specializing in handmade Persian carpets. Many experts can guide you in selecting a rug that best fits your space and preferences.

Elevate Your Space with a Persian Carpet Today!

A Persian rug is more than just a floor covering—it’s a timeless treasure that adds warmth, elegance, and a story to your home. Whether you’re a first-time buyer or a collector, now is the perfect time to invest in one of these extraordinary works of art. Transform your living space with the beauty and craftsmanship of an authentic Persian rug today!

Original Source: hand tufted carpet

#persian rugs #persian carpet #hand tufted carpet #blue carpet #designer carpet #premium carpet #luxury carpet #woolen carpets for living room #carpets and rugs online #living room carpet rugs #rug carpet for living room

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carpetcrafts-blog · 2 months ago

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Exclusive Hotel Carpets Collection | Premium Hospitality Carpets from Dubai’s Top Manufacturers!

Dubai is known for its luxury, grandeur, and world-class hospitality. The city’s hotels, resorts, and hospitality spaces are designed to offer unmatched elegance, comfort, and sophistication. One of the key elements that define the ambiance and aesthetic appeal of these spaces is high-quality carpets. Whether it’s a lavish five-star hotel, a boutique resort, or a high-end restaurant, the right hospitality carpets play a crucial role in enhancing the overall experience of guests.

Why Choose Exclusive Hotel Carpets?

Exclusive hotel carpets are designed to meet the high standards of the hospitality industry. They are crafted using superior materials, ensuring durability, aesthetics, and functionality. Here’s why investing in premium carpets is essential:

Luxury & Elegance: High-end carpets elevate the interior decor, adding a touch of luxury and sophistication to hotel lobbies, suites, and conference halls.

Durability & Longevity: Carpets endure heavy foot traffic. Premium manufacturers in Dubai use high-quality fibers and advanced weaving techniques to ensure long-lasting performance.

Comfort & Acoustics: Soft, plush carpets enhance guest comfort while also reducing noise levels, creating a peaceful and relaxing ambiance.

Customization Options: Dubai’s leading carpet manufacturers offer bespoke designs to match the theme and branding of hotels, making every space unique.

Safety & Maintenance: These carpets are designed with stain-resistant, fire-retardant, and anti-slip properties, ensuring safety while minimizing maintenance costs.

Dubai’s Top Manufacturer for Premium Carpets

Dubai is home to some of the best carpet manufacturers who specialize in crafting high-quality hotel carpets. These manufacturers blend craftsmanship, innovation, and premium materials to create carpets that define luxury. Some of the key features of their exclusive carpets include:

Custom Designs & Patterns: From traditional motifs to modern abstract patterns, Dubai’s carpet manufacturers offer a wide variety of styles to match diverse hotel aesthetics.

Eco-Friendly Materials: Many manufacturers focus on sustainability, using eco-friendly fibers and low-impact dyes to create carpets that align with green hospitality trends.

State-of-the-Art Manufacturing Techniques: With cutting-edge technology and hand-tufting expertise, Dubai’s manufacturers ensure precision and perfection in every carpet.

Types of Hospitality Carpets for Hotels

Hotels require different types of carpets for various areas, each serving a unique purpose. Here are some popular categories of hospitality carpets used in luxury hotels:

Lobby Carpets: The hotel lobby is the first impression guests have of a property. Exclusive, eye-catching carpets create an inviting and elegant ambiance.

Ballroom & Conference Carpets: Designed for large gatherings, these carpets feature exquisite patterns and high durability to withstand heavy use.

Corridor Carpets: These carpets enhance the aesthetic appeal of hotel hallways while providing a noise-reducing function.

Guest Room Carpets: Soft, plush carpets in guest rooms enhance comfort, warmth, and overall luxury.

Restaurant & Lounge Carpets: Stylish and easy-to-maintain carpets elevate the dining experience while withstanding spills and stains.

Why Dubai is a Hub for Premium Hotel Carpets?

Dubai has established itself as a global leader in the carpet manufacturing industry. With a combination of traditional artistry and modern innovation, the city’s carpet manufacturers deliver superior products tailored to the needs of the hospitality sector. Key reasons why Dubai is a preferred destination for hotel carpets include:

High-Quality Craftsmanship: Dubai’s carpet manufacturers uphold international quality standards, ensuring durability and excellence.

Customization & Personalization: Hotels can choose from an extensive range of colors, patterns, and textures to match their interior themes.

Competitive Pricing: Despite the luxury appeal, manufacturers in Dubai offer competitive prices, making high-end carpets accessible to all types of hotels.

Fast & Reliable Delivery: With well-established supply chains, Dubai-based carpet manufacturers ensure prompt delivery across the UAE and globally.

Choosing the Right Carpet Manufacturer in Dubai

Selecting the right carpet manufacturer is essential to ensure quality, durability, and aesthetics. Here are a few factors to consider:

Experience & Reputation: Look for manufacturers with a proven track record of supplying carpets to leading hotels and resorts.

Quality of Materials: Ensure the carpets are made of high-quality wool, nylon, or other durable fibers that can withstand heavy use.

Design & Customization Capabilities: Choose manufacturers who offer bespoke solutions to match the hotel’s branding and interior style.

Maintenance & Warranty: Opt for carpets with stain-resistant coatings and warranties for long-term value.

Sustainability Practices: If environmental impact is a concern, select manufacturers that follow eco-friendly production methods.

Conclusion

Exclusive hotel carpets are more than just floor coverings; they are an integral part of a hotel’s identity, ambiance, and guest experience. Dubai’s top carpet manufacturers offer a perfect blend of luxury, durability, and customization to meet the unique needs of hospitality spaces. Whether you are looking for classic elegance, contemporary charm, or bespoke designs, Dubai’s premium hospitality carpets provide the perfect solution for elevating hotel interiors.

For hotels aiming to create a lasting impression, investing in high-quality carpets from Dubai’s leading manufacturers is the key to achieving unparalleled sophistication and comfort.

#carpetsforhotels #hospitalitycarpets #carpetsmanufacturersinDubai

#contract carpets #hospitality carpets #carpets for hotels #carpets suppliers in dubai #carpet dealers in dubai #custom designed carpets #carpets manufacturers in Dubai

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