#cairo cafe

[emaadsidiki]

Abdel Halim Hafez at Cafe Lord in Cairo, Egypt. 🎙️📺🪕

[shaimaafekry]

Beautiful morning 🌞

Cairo, Egypt 🌿🕊️

[ahmdba]

[succinate-oo]

عادي

[sweetygirlm]

2 July, 2024.

You only live once, so take risks, explore the world, make memories and embrace new experiences.✨️🤎

[noirgasmweetheart]

Lorre's Cat Cafe: Cairo

Easily the most eye-catching animal in the cafe, Cairo is a rare male calico, and a bitch. He grooms himself meticulously, and is very touchy. He enjoys affection on his own terms. He'll purr while rubbing up against you and various intimate objects (he loves rubbing against umbrellas especially, for some reason). But he often gets cranky when picked up. His soft multicolored belly is a trap. He tends not to get along with the other cats, batting at them with his paw and hissing.

He rarely makes any sound louder than a purr or a hiss. But on the very rare occasion that something really upsets him, he can get very loud.

But no matter.

When he's cuddled he'll take it and like it.

[chukwunonsoibe]

[the-joyful-abyss]

Thursday vibes ❤️

[photo-by-thomas]

Cafe

Cairo, Egypt 2024

[hzaidan]

01 Orientalist Painting, Jean-Léon Gérôme's Cafe House, Cairo (Casting Bullets), with footnotes, #118

Jean-Léon Gérôme (French, Vesoul 1824–1904 Paris)Cafe House, Cairo (Casting Bullets), c. 1884 or earlierOil on canvas21 1/2 x 24 3/4 in. (54.6 x 62.9 cm)The Metropolitan Museum of Art While two mercenaries cast bullets and a third, seated behind them, seems to be inspecting one, others engage in revelry and a man and woman converse. Despite these apparent incongruities, the meticulous painting…

[emaadsidiki]

Umm Kulthum's Mannequin & Midnight in Cairo, Egypt. 🎙️📻

One of my favorite songs of her with English Lyrics.

Great Egyptian Singer, Songwriter and Film Actress Umm Kulthum also known as the Star of the East.

[merosello]

Café Terrace at Night (Place du Forum, Arles) Vincent van Gogh Date: 1888; Arles, Bouches-du-Rhône, France Style: Post-Impressionism Genre: cityscape Media: oil, canvas Location: Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands

شرفة مقهى في الليل (Place du Forum، آرل) فنسنت فان غوغ التاريخ: 1888؛ آرل، بوش دو رون، فرنسا النمط: ما بعد الانطباعية النوع: مناظر المدينة الوسائط: زيت، قماش الموقع: متحف كرولر مولر، أوتيرلو، هولندا

#artt

[moonknightsonata]

Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[succinate-oo]

1 vs 🌍

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

- classified

sas: rogue heroes ocs be upon ye. little introductory piece for my beloved Harry twins because they are everything to meee <3

tagging: @hellofanidea @saturnwisteria @moghraidhs @6thofapril1917

Afternoon sunlight glinted against the rim of Carmen's glass, the repetitive clink clink clink of metal against metal cutting through the low chatter that surrounded her as the needle in her hand knocked against her ring with each stitch. Her sunglasses had been pushed up, holding back her curls as she finished off the first wing of the insignia in her lap, offering herself a small, satisfied nod.

"Gettin' good at that," Her brother's voice caught her off guard, gaze snapping up to meet him as he pulled out a chair and took a seat opposite.

"Jesus," Carmen muttered, planting her feet on the floor and sitting up straight. "Yeah, well, Nan made me darn your socks enough times. Got you a beer," She nodded, gesturing to the full pint glass on the table.

"Oh, thanks," Jonah nodded, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long sip. Letting out a hum, he wiped the foam from his lips. "Yunno I've been stood down and sittin' around this city for two bloody weeks, you could've at least come by the barracks. The other blokes are all writing letters to their sisters and I'm getting ignored by mine in the same city, it's embarrassing."

"Well, that's 'cause I have a job. A more important job than yours, some might say."

"'Some' being you."

Carmen shrugged, letting out that low, irritated hum she always did when she couldn't think of something to retaliate with. Re-threading her needle, she raised the thread to her mouth, tugging it against the point of her canine until it snapped.

"What are you actually doing?" He asked, leaning forward on the edge of his seat to get a better look at the half-finished patch in her lap.

"Oh, it's just somethin' we're working on."

"It looks like insignia," Jonah pointed out with a nod.

She snorted slightly. "Well, you won't be seeing it around any time soon."

"One of your schemes, eh?"

"I'll give Clarke most of the credit. But yeah."

"And you can't tell me about it, of course."

"Well, it's c-"

"-Classified," He chuckled, finishing her sentence before the word could leave her lips. "God, don't you miss when we used to tell each other everything?"

Carmen's lip curled with a smile, putting down her sewing as she met his eye. "I miss all of it."

Jonah's jaw hung slack in an open-mouthed grin. "Has being a professional liar somehow made you more honest?"

"Shut up!" She squeaked, reaching across the table to smack him on the shoulder. "I never lie to you, I just... omit."

"Which is so normal of you, of course, great job."

"Hey, I tell you more than I tell Nan."

"You don't tell Nan anything."

"Exactly," Carmen smirked, eliciting a snort from her brother. The pair glanced up as one of the waiters approached, hands folded neatly across his front as he waited for their order. Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Carmen rattled off something indecipherable in Arabic, pointing to the items she wanted on the menu. If he'd be paying attention to the waiter's expression, he might have pieced together that her Arabic wasn't quite as good as it seemed, but from where he sat - to his untrained ear - it all seemed rather impressive.

With an apologetic smile, she handed over the menus, and the waiter departed with a polite nod. A flush of colour tinted her cheeks as she looked back at her brother, whose eyes had narrowed.

"Gettin' good at that too, Christ."

"Oh, God," Carmen cringed, running a hand across her face. "It's nowhere near as good as my German. I keep fucking up the grammar."

"Oh, woe is you." Jonah teased, voice laced with mock irritability as he rolled his eyes.

Even in the shelter of the cafe patio, the Cairo heat seemed relentless, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as a damp patch soaked through the back of his shirt. "Jesus, I'll never get used to the sun out here," He muttered, taking another long sip of his beer. Carmen reached for the wine list, cool air hitting his face as she fanned it back and forth. "Thanks," Jonah grinned, letting out a breathy laugh.

"You're such a bloody tourist," She spoke with a low chuckle. "Surprised you can even hold a gun with hands that sweaty."

"Fuck off," He groaned, head tilted back to face the plaster ceiling above. After a moment of silence, he sat upright, brow furrowed.

"Wait, you speak German?"

Carmen laughed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The door to the office creaked as Carmen slipped inside, letting out a sigh as she removed her sunglasses, tousling her hair back into shape with the other hand. The place was quiet, save for the constant whirring of the desk fans, and it was difficult to move around without knocking into another precariously balanced pile of files and books and other various miscellanea.

"There's prostitutes outside again," She pointed out, hanging her bag up on the coat stand.

Dudley Clarke sat at his desk, feet crossed over and propped up against the table as he lounged back in his seat, arms folded tightly across his chest. He had appeared asleep when she'd first arrived, but Carmen knew better. Slowly peeling one eye open, he watched her sideways.

"You know, you're not high-ranking enough to disappear on me," He pointed out languidly, disregarding her remark. "You're meant to be here when I need you."

"Uh-huh," She shrugged without concern, coming to perch on the edge of his desk. "My brother's in town, I'm gonna go see him occasionally."

"You're on the clock."

"We're literally always on the clock," Carmen frowned. A beat passed, and she realised Clarke had nothing with which to counter that. "Anyway, I wasn't not working. Here ya go," She tossed the finished jump wings into his lap, and Clarke sat upright, examining the patch closely.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Figured it didn't need to be perfect. Just needed to look good in the photos."

"This'll do nicely," He nodded, rummaging among the piles of paper that littered his desk for the right file.

"I'll sew it on, then I can go take the photos in the morning," Carmen explained, only half expecting him to have listened as she watched him produce the papers.

Clarke hummed in acknowledgement. "Good. Excellent."

"... And-?" She prompted, arching a brow. He looked up from his desk, letting out a sigh as he registered her expression.

"Yes, thank you, Carmen," He nodded. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, she pushed herself up from the edge of the desk, heading back towards her own. Outside, a chorus of giggles sounded, a group of women gossiping like a gaggle of geese, their voices seeping through the wooden door. Clarke paused whatever he'd been writing, putting his pen down with a frustrated huff. "Are those prostitutes back again? Will you go out and send them off?"

"Hm," Carmen mused, lowering herself into her desk chair and picking up the nearest file, thumbing through the pages. "Nah. Busy. I'm on the clock, remember? The SAS isn't going to make itself."

"... You're a terrible employee."

"No, I'm not."

She could feel his stare boring into her skull.

"... Hm."

[quanatural]

Hey, I brought a lot of fluffy animals.

Samuel Spade:Great Dane Joel Cairo: long-haired calico cat Brigid O'Shaughnessy: wolf,Because she's just the strongest and she can tear everyone apart. Kasper Gutman:Orange cat pretending to be a tiger（I kept the habit of writing Chinese characters when I drew it. Anyway, the character “王” on his head means “king”.） Wilmer Cook:Foxhound.He was raised by these gangster cats.(I think he's an undersized hound)

Ah I probably drew everyone too cute, but it's kinda fun to think about a bunch of cats and dogs literally chasing a bird.Or canines vs. felines.

P3:there's the mouse Ugarte.It's a pun joke meaning S (鼠) moking

P4:Inspired by @noirgasmweetheart, I also think Ugarte is a wombat, in short he's just so cute he can be all round and goofy and stuff.As well as I love Lorre's Cat Cafe, I also agree that Cairo is a calico cat and Bogart is a Great Dane!