#driftwood table decor

[driftwoodfurniture]

Driftwood Tables

Driftwood tables are not just beautiful. They are sturdy, lasting, and incredibly versatile. Whether you’re looking for a rustic coffee table, an elegant dining centerpiece, or a quirky side table, there’s a driftwood piece just for you. In this guide, we’ll explore everything about these amazing tables. From types and styles to care tips, we’ve got you covered.

Visit Us: https://alldriftwoodfurniture.com/driftwood-tables/

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[dead-end-draws]

WOF tribe Merchant/Trading booth concepts:

Hey folks! This one was the recent winner of this WOF poll, so here’s my concept art that headcannons trading in Pyrrhia.

Read below cut for close-ups of the individual booths + the thought process / headcannons behind the design choices: 👇

Skywings: The Sky Kingdom’s mountain ranges provide plenty of pasture for raising sheep. As such, Skywing shepherds benefit from traveling to sell their wool, dyes, fabric, and woven tapestries. Many of these merchant tables also include herbs grown exclusively in the mountains, or ibex drinking horns that can be strapped on a dragon’s shoulder & carried in flight.

Along with goods, Skywing merchants may offer sewing services to fix tears, burn marks, or other fabric damage. They are sought out for their quality clothing, and most fabric across Pyrria originated from a Skywing’s talons.

Mudwings: Mudwings’ abundant food & cooking skills are envied almost anywhere in Pyrrhia. Their swamps have fertile soil, responsible for hosting diverse crops which can be purchased as produce at merchant stalls. For those lucky enough to find a traveling Mudwing merchant, the promise of a delicious dish can be whipped up and served at the stall in no time. Along with produce goods, Mudwings sell weaved baskets, spices, and cooking ware.

Sandwings: Sandwing booths offer luxuries of the desert: It’s most common to find accessories such as gold carved jewelry or musical instruments such as drums, lyres, & mandolins for sale. Though, even more sought out across Pyrrhia is Sandwing tattoos/piercings, which are done within the merchant areas. Ink etchings on papyrus paper are stationed outside their tents to showcase designs. All which can be selected, and poked into the skin with a tapping stick and plant dye ink by a trained talon.

Seawings: SeaWings sell a variety of ocean related goods; taking a share in the fish market with Icewings. Outside of food, there are den decorations like driftwood carvings, accessories such as seashell & pearl jewelry, and rope nets weaved by expert Seawing sailors. Some Seawings even sell fishing equipment, canoes, or offer sailor knot tying instructions to curious dragon buyers.

Nightwings: During the war, it was near impossible to find a Nightwing merchant. Most refused to participate in merchant territory, mostly as a way to keep up with their tribe’s mysterious nature.

Though in the more shady, unground parts of the market you can buy from a huge selection of obsidian weaponry, the sharpest in Pyrrhia. No one knew initially how Nightwings smithed so many weapons, or why, until their secret volcano kingdom and the intention to invade the rainforest was discovered. Then forging armor & weapons became clear. Along with a vast armory, for the right price, some Nightwing merchants offer Prophecies & Nightwing Literature (not always guaranteed to always be reliable) and assassin services as well (very reliable).

Rainwings: Though Rainwings haven’t been part of Pyrrhia trading for years, they have a vast hold on dragon medicine. An apothecary of herbs, salves, and remedies are all offered for various ailments due to the rainforest’s abundant resources. Along with medicinal goods, many Rainwings are fruit vendors, promising to any hesitant meat-eating dragons that such an array of flavors isn’t to be missed. Though, their fruit selling pitches often fall flat to most other predominantly meat-eating tribes.

Icewings: Icewings have everything a dragon could need to brace the cold, with a selection of goods only found in the most frigid regions of Pyrrhia. Furs, bone jewelry, and fresh fish (thanks to frost breath) are served on ice. Though Icewings themselves don’t require fur to withstand the cold, it’s considered fashionable and common in upper ranks to wear fur as a status symbol. Since metal is hard to smith without fire & in cold temperatures, fur and bone are more accessible to Icewings for clothing statements.

[dustbunnyforsims]

Driftwood Dining & Seafood Boil

Driftwood Dining Table V1

2 Swatches

Located in Surfaces -> Dining Table

Driftwood Dining Table V2

2 Swatches

Located in Surfaces -> Dining Table

Driftwood Chair

3 Swatches

Located in Comfort -> Chair

Driftwood Lamps

2 Swatches

Located in Lights -> Table

Driftwood Silverware

Located in Decorations -> Clutter

Driftwood Bibs

Located in Decorations -> Clutter

Driftwood Melted Butter

Located in Decorations -> Clutter

Driftwood Melted Seafood Boil Spread

Located in Decorations -> Clutter

Driftwood Melted Seafood Boil Plate

Located in Decorations -> Clutter

Driftwood Melted Seafood Boil ( Edible )

Edible Custom Food

Cook it by clicking on the Fridge -> Cook

Category: Homestyle Cooking -> Fish

You can find all our content in Build & Buy Mode by searching "Dust Bunny"

All LODs // Custom Thumbnails // Disallowed for Random // HQ Mod Compatible

Conversion // Do not recolor or convert // Do not re-upload

SUBSCRIBE

SHOP

Screenshot:

Connect with us at: Instagram I Pinterest Board I Tumblr I Patreon

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 4

Ao3 | 2.7k words | Darlin's POV

Home sweet home. Scrambled eggs, new phones, and unchanged offices.

TW: Conflict, arguments, mentions of abuse and manipulation, non-consensual tattooing.

You lost time somewhere along the stretch of road between the 10-19 and David’s uncomfortably plush suburban house. If you focused really hard, you could piece together where you’d been, the moments you’d brushed up against others. David’s spouse did surprise you a bit. Small. Sweet. Smiling. Somehow, that nickname sounded so familiar in their mouth. You wanted to pull the strings of it out from between their teeth. 

Instead, you went to bed. You didn’t stop at the adjoining guest bathroom, you didn’t shuck off the outer layers of clothes that were sticking to you with sweat in the balmy, heated house, you didn’t even untie your boots.

The guest room was lowly lit by a single, shaded lamp on the bedside table. A soft, lavender bedspread was laid out over the biggest bed you’d ever seen. There was a shelf on one wall full of decorative, leather bound books and knick-knacks you had no context for. A piece of dried driftwood. A mug advertising a local coffee shop. A half-burnt scented candle, vanilla sugar. You rubbed your hands over your face, your fingers catching over your scar-curled lip, trying to scrub away the exhaustion. 

You wanted nothing more than to strip out of your uncomfortable, DFD clothes and climb under those pretty lavender sheets and never emerge. 

But you were dirty. You still had dried blood and sweat everywhere. Your boots were laced so tightly you couldn’t kick them off, and you weren’t sure you could bend reliably at the moment. The idea of trying to undress was enough to make you shiver. Not to mention the fact that you might have to run in the middle of the night. You didn’t want to have to redress before you did. 

In the end, you sat heavily in the velveteen arm chair that was set next to the bed. You kept your boots on the ground, dusting off mud and blood on the hardwood floors. You had barely rested your head back against the back of the chair when you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep. 

The moment something shifted in the house you jolted awake. Even this exhausted and bogged down by your injuries, you were a light sleeper. Quinn used to wake you in the middle of the night, drag you out to bars and hovels, to stranger’s houses and dingy basement apartments. 

Sometimes, you’d wake up with him on top of you, your arms pinned. He moved so fast or so quietly that he didn’t wake you. 

You scrunched up your brow to the memory of a tattoo needle carving through your skin, Quinn tutting at you for ruining his line when you startled awake. You scrubbed a finger over the raised, blown out word and tried to put that particular memory out of your mind.

Your legs were asleep, but you stood anyway, your ribs protesting as you forced yourself into a crouch. The door to the guest room creaked as you opened it. You held your breath. The shifting sounds deeper in the house didn’t let up. You hadn’t announced yourself. 

The door to the bedroom across from yours was ajar. The gentle light of the hallway fell on a sleeping form, bundled up in blankets on one side of the giant bed. You could see in the dents of the mussed sheets where David had lain, wrapped around them. 

You moved through the house silently, rolling your steps through your feet across the shiny, hardwood floors. Christ, this was the nicest place you’d stepped muddy boot in in literal years. You tucked your hands close to your body, rested your shaking palms against your thighs. You were afraid that, if you touched anything, you’d ruin it. 

David was in the kitchen, clinking away with some pots and pans as the coffee pot brewed. A knot of tension eased in your gut. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t found you. 

“On the table,” David pointed over his shoulder without looking at you. You turned slowly, your back stiff. There was a little white box next to a bag from Verizon on the Shaws’ quaint breakfast nook table. 

“Showing off your new toy?” You grunted. Your throat was hoarse and cracking. 

“Your new toy.” David replied. The coffee pot finished brewing. He poured two mugs, one left black, the other smothered in sugar. He held it out for you. “You need a phone.” 

“I have a phone.” You said. Your hand drifted to the pocket of your sweatpants. 

“You have a burner phone.” David said, his voice dangerously close to a laugh. He pulled a handful of ingredients from the fridge. “Like a drug dealer on Law and Order. You need something up to date.” You eyed it with suspicion. “I won’t take yours from you. Just… take that one, okay?” 

“So you can keep tabs on me?” You sipped at the coffee. It was perfect. How the fuck did he remember how you took your coffee? You didn’t think that David had ever given you a second thought. But he knew how you laced your boots and how much sugar you needed to make coffee drinkable and that you needed to hear he wouldn’t take your stupid burner to feel secure. 

“Kind of.” David shrugged. He cracked eight eggs into a bowl before whisking them together. A dash of garlic salt, some pepper, paprika. “I’m worried you’ll run again. I’m not trying to force you to stay here or anything, but… I’d feel better if I had a way to contact you if you decide to.” 

“So I’m not being held against my will in your guest room?” 

“No.” David sighed. “Although, if you were, pretty nice digs for a hostage.” 

“Hostage implies you intend to use me for leverage.” You grinned. “I’m not worth much as a bargaining chip.”

David looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowed. He sliced through his scrambled eggs forcefully with his spatula. You were half convince that could be considered a deadly weapon in his hands. 

“I don’t like it when you say shit like that.” He grumbled. 

“What?” You laughed. 

“‘I’m not worth much.’” David growled. “That pisses me off.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, you moved across the kitchen and snatched the phone from the table. You sat heavily and rested your head against the cool wood. You drifted while David cooked. Somehow, it was easier to sleep here, bent uncomfortably over the breakfast table, than in the secure, lockable bedroom on the delta wall of the house. You didn’t want to think too hard about the implications of that. 

You woke again when a plate was sat down in front of you. It was piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon, toast spread with soft butter and marmalade. Your stomach announced you loudly, and you ignored the smile that played across David’s lips. You hadn’t put it together before, but looking at him head on, the scar that cut through his lip was on the same side as yours. If you looked at each other head on, you were a mirror image. You wondered where his had come from. 

“What does your spouse do?” You asked around a mouthful of eggs, surprising yourself. David looked up from his own plate and eyed you suspiciously. He took a long swig of his coffee before nodding. 

“Copy editor.” He said simply. “For Vesta. Big company that just started up in town. Although I don’t think they’re even really sure what they do.” 

“Soulless corporate stooge.” You laughed softly. David cocked his head and shrugged. 

“They’re apprenticing as a tattoo artist.” He said, almost defensively. 

“Are they any good?” You asked. David met your eye as he pushed back in his chair and rolled up the hem of his  t-shirt. He twisted to angle his back to you, exposing a complex, beautiful, black and gray tattoo. You’d seen a few pieces like that, rings of eyes and wings spiraling towards a core in the dead center of David’s spine. It was American Traditional, thick, bold lines and stipple shading. The eyes and halos were dotted with highlights of white. 

“They said it was an angel.” David sighed. “I was expecting more choir robes and prayer hands but this is way better.” You nodded, fighting the urge to reach over the table and smooth your hand over his back, feel the healed ridges and test the line weight. It was cold out. The linework was most likely raised and itching like yours. 

“It’s good.” You huffed as David righted his shirt and resumed his breakfast. “I can’t believe they’re just an apprentice.” 

“They’ve been tattooing for years. They’re just doing it officially now.” He eyed you nervously for a moment before adding on; “You could ask them about some coverups.”

You looked away, a hand snapping up to scratch at the ‘Q’ on your cheek. Shame burned in your stomach, bitter and acidic. 

“Coverups for what?” You challenged. You wanted to hear him say it. He didn’t reply. 

You found out, while setting up your shiny new phone, that it was four-thirty in the morning, and this was a perfectly normal time for David to be up and moving. He dug out some of his own clothes from the back of his closet for you. Once upon a time, you and David had the same waist size. Now, he was thickened with healthy muscle, and you had barely been eating. You stole the lace out of one of David’s spare sneakers to cinch the waist of the jeans he gave you and tugged the oversized t-shirt and sweater over your head with only a small protest from your ribs. Across the chest that hung down too low on your chest, the worn logo for Max’s Rustic Pizza caught on your fingers as you brushed them down over it rhythmically. 

David stooped into his bedroom before leaving. You listened to his voice rumble through the walls, deep and indiscernible. His spouse’s high laugh brought a smile to your face, although you didn’t know why. 

Dahlia’s Firehouse 10-19 had changed since you’d last been there. You didn’t remember much of your hour-long visit after David had dragged you out of your apartment. It was all tinged with the fuzzy discomfort that blood loss always gave you. You walked the length of it as the sun rose, ran your fingers over the redone walls, laid out on one of the queen sized bunks for an hour or two, never quite sleeping but close. You passed by a wall of fallen brother’s pretty, dress uniform portraits. Gabe Shaw’s face grinned down at you, the only one of the lot with a smile. 

His office, now David’s, was still mostly the same. The carpet had been redone, and the fluorescent overhead lights were left off for a series of soft, warm lit lamps. You didn’t turn a single one of them on as you entered the unlocked space, let the darkness hide the few changes that had been made and let the memory of it fill in the gaps. 

Gabe raised his son in this fire house, in this office as Captain. And Asher’s dad was his lieutenant. And Milo’s dad was the beat cop who would divert his route to clear a scene when he heard the 1019 was on a call. The house was fill of lineage, full of families of firefighters and their sons. 

It was a lineage that you weren’t a part of. 

Your dad was a gas station attendant who left as soon as you mom fell pregnant. She barely kept food on your plate. As far as anybody knew, you came from nothing. You were just a probie, a fresh faced eighteen-year-old still working out your baby fat who had never touched a rig. You applied with no resume, no references, just the certification that you’d passed the exam. Because you could haul equipment. You could scale a ladder in three seconds flat. You could throw a grown man over your shoulder without hesitation. 

You caught sight of the big, black office chair sitting behind the same cheap desk that had been sitting in that office since you first stepped foot inside. Gabe made that chair look tiny. He made you feel tiny. 

“You’re a good firefighter.” Gabe had said. “You’re ferocious. You’re not afraid to throw yourself into a call.” He grinned that stupid, bright grin. “We all trust that you’ll be the first one into a fire, the first one reaching to save somebody.” 

You remembered how proud you’d felt at that moment. How easy it was for Gabe’s praise to make you feel two feet taller. 

“But I don’t think you trust us.” His smile went soft then, a bit sad. “I don’t think you trust that we’ve got your back. And that’s why you’re so vigilant.”

“I trust you guys,” you had replied so quickly, so defensively. “I just know how to watch my own back.” 

“Trust is essential to what we do.” Gabe said. “When we put on our turnouts, when we put those numbers on our chests, we’re a unit, one machine. When one of the cogs of the machine starts to turn on its own, with no regard or acknowledgment of the others, the whole thing can fall apart.” 

You remember being so angry. You couldn’t put your finger on why. You’d stood, your arms light and body tensed, as though you were going to swing at him. Gabe rose with you, his shoulders relaxed. He knew what you looked like when getting ready for a fight. 

David had walked in on you two, interrupted what was likely to be a career-ending fight. You hadn’t realized until he walked in that you’d been crying. 

Knuckles rapped against the doorframe, jolting you out of the memory. You were in nearly the exact same spot, and when you turned, so was David. You shivered at the familiarity and tried to shake it off of your shoulders. 

“Refamiliarizing yourself?” He asked softly. 

“You really should lock your office door.” You replied. 

“My dad never did.” He shrugged and stepped deeper into the space. He looked around slowly, his eyes carrying a heaviness you couldn’t put a name to. “Open door and all that. I take it literally.” 

“You’ve changed everything else about this place. Except his desk. You kept that.” 

David locked eyes with you. The emotion drained from his face very suddenly. His walls slammed up the moment you tapped on them. He closed himself off to you so naturally, like it was his default state around you. 

You’d given him plenty of reasons over the years. 

“I did good by this house.” David said. “But there are some things I can’t…” He pressed his mouth into a tight line, unable to go on. 

“Yeah well… dead dad… makes it a bit more complicated than an office makeover.” You shrugged. It was the wrong thing to say. David huffed out a tight, tense breath. You watched his temple jump as he clenched his jaw. 

“I know the Captain’s death was hard on you.” There was something hollow in the way he said it, like he’d said it a hundred times before. Frustration cut across his closed off features.

“Jesus Christ, David.” You snapped, scrubbing a hand across your face. “Hard? Yeah, no I would say your father’s death was hard.” You tugged on the hem of your shirt nervously. “Getting the call was hard. Recognizing Gabe’s car was hard. Knowing nobody could survive a crash like that was hard!” 

“Stop.” David said resolutely. You pushed through the urge to follow his orders. 

“But it must have been torture for you!” Your voice cracked. “Pulling your father’s body out of a burning wreck must-“ you couldn’t get the words out from around the lump in your throat. You slammed your fist into your thigh. David hung his head. His shoulders slumped. One big hand came up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop.” He said again. His voice was a ghost. 

“You stop.” You replied. “Stop trying to comfort me. God, David.” Your body twitched to hug him, to gather him up in your arms. You didn’t move an inch. “Save some of that for yourself.” 

You turned tail and closed his office door quietly, leaving him alone in the dark, silent room. It was the closest to comfort that you could provide. 

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

2個"螃蟹"小奶頭"洞"，畫個身來playgirl~* hahaha 👆

ღ 颱風過後的旗津海邊~我去撿漂流木- 皮雕作品/台灣原住民開山刀皮雕封套要用的 After the typhoon the day before yesterday, so today I went to pick up driftwood for my leather work useful at the Cijin beach in the morning.  (づ￣ ³￣) ♡ 

👆鳥禽 / swan or seagull the head xoxo and 生命力! 👆

👆 2 pieces to use on tea set (tea ceremony, decorating the tea table.)

👇 too heavy this one, can't use it. but i love the kid's footprints. :))) Adorable~*

👆 這個可以"泡"補藥酒 LOL ( I'm kidding. XD Did you know? Chinese people love to drink tonic wine. 🙄😜)

👇 One driftwood and both sides. It's useful on my next leather jobs. but needs to fix lot working on it~*

👆 Although this one looks nice, it has a lot of moth holes. I cleaned up the driftwood with moth holes and it was too tiring, so I just took pictures. I don't take it back to studio. good bye. sorry~*

[lilacmingi]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU: NAMJOON’S ENDING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Caterpillar!Namjoon x fem reader

Word count: 1,290

Note: There’s no taglist for the separate endings. If you haven’t read the series yet, you can find the intro here or find it on my masterlist which is linked at the end of the imagine

Every single one of them were amazing and beyond perfect, but your heart seemed to be pulled towards one of them in particular.

You glanced over at Namjoon, who seemed so composed about the whole situation while everyone else looked uneasy. You really did love all of them, but the way you felt about Namjoon was a different kind of love.

"I choose Namjoon."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Me? You choose me?"

You chuckled lightly and nodded.

He stepped forward and hugged you, squeezing you tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered into your hair.

Despite his confident demeanor when the both of you met earlier that day, he was anxious and a small part of him didn't think you would pick him, but he was elated that you did.

"Congrats you two." Jin smiled warmly.

"You guys don't forget to stop by and visit, okay?" Hoseok spoke up.

"Of course." Namjoon nodded. "It'll be just like the good old days."

The both of you said your goodbyes to the group and parted ways, heading to Namjoon's house where you would be starting your new life.

"Sorry about calling you stupid when we first met." Namjoon's apology seemed to come out of nowhere.

"It's okay. Your good looks and smooth talking make up for it."

"Ah." He chucked. "Does it really?"

You nodded.

"Thank you." He gave a shy smile.

His hand reached for yours and intertwined your fingers while guiding you down the pathway that ran throughout Wonderland.

The both of you arrived shortly at the clearing where you met Namjoon earlier that day, walking past his chair and other items in the middle of the grass and down a small path where the grass didn't grow anymore due to it being walked on so much. Not far down the trail was a house hiding amongst the tall plants and flowers, some of which were growing along the side of the structure.

"Well, here it is." Namjoon smiled, gesturing to his abode.

"It's adorable. I didn't expect you to live in such a cute house."

"Come on. Let's go inside and I'll show you around. I think you'll like it."

The front door was pushed open and you stepped past the threshold where you were met with the living room which was decorated nicely. Paintings were scattered along the walls and a variety of green plants dotted the area. Some sat in the windowsill while a couple were placed on the natural driftwood coffee table.

"This is the living room. The kitchen is over here." He gestured to the open cooking area, leading you over so you could take it all in.

You were then led down a short hallway where Namjoon showed you the rest of his house which just consisted of a bathroom and his study.

"This last room here," He opened the door. "is our room." He spoke, emphasizing the word our, making your heart flutter.

"It's nice."

He hummed in agreement against your neck, causing you to freeze up. His arms snaked around your waist while his lips attached themselves to your neck. Your eyelids fluttered in response at the sensation of being able to feel every movement of his full lips against your sensitive skin. 

"Namjoon." You sighed out.

"Yes, baby?"

"Keep doing that."

"As you wish." He murmured, continuing to work his way up your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

When he reached just beneath your ear, he spun you around towards him and captured your lips between his. His kisses were warm and the way his plush and pillowy lips felt pressing against your own was enough to send your mind into a foggy haze of bliss.

"Baby." He sighed into your mouth, his voice dropping low as he uttered the affectionate nickname.

Your hands gripped desperately at the collar of his coat, pulling him impossibly closer, your fingers curling around the navy blue fabric in order to ground yourself.

Not wanting things to get too intense, Namjoon parted ways, his arms staying looped around your waist.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I really do." He panted, breathless from all the kissing. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for us."

Two weeks later

Your quiet footsteps barely made a sound as you entered Namjoon's study where he was reading one of the many books he owned. Soft music was playing throughout the room on a record player as his eyes scanned the pages of the book perched in his large hands. He was wearing wire framed glasses that rested cutely on the edge of his little nose. He glanced up from his book, taking notice of your presence, a dimpled grin spreading across his face the moment his eyes met yours.

"Hello, gorgeous." He greeted.

"Hi. I brought you some tea."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't." You grinned and set the steaming beverage down on his desk.

You leaned on the back of his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." He hummed.

"You're welcome, Joon."

One of your hands played with his hair, glancing down at the open book in his palms.

"Whatcha reading?"

"A love story. It's nothing compared to ours though."

You giggled. "Namjoon."

"Was that cheesy?"

"A little."

"I'm only cheesy for you, baby." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him.

"Well," He sighed, placing a bookmark in his book before snapping it shut. "I suppose I should try this tea you so lovingly made for me." He reached over and retrieved the cup from the table, blowing in the hot liquid before bringing it to his full lips.

You waited in anticipation as he set the cup down, smiling shortly after.

"It's delicious. How did you learn to make such amazing tea?"

"Well, I'm a bit of a tea addict. I like to try new things and experiment with my tea."

"I love it." He took another appreciative sip from the cup and placed it back on the table.

You moved around to the front of the chair he sat in and slowly lifted the book from Namjoon's hands. He looked up at you and raised a brow, though there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes as you took a seat on his leg and leaned into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, his hands running up and down your back.

"Your glasses are so cute, Joon."

"Thanks."

You pulled them from his face and placed them on your own, just for fun. He flashed a smile that was full of adoration.

"You look so adorable in those."

"I don't know." You shook your head, removing the glasses and setting them aside.

"You do." He assured, moving his face closer to yours.

Namjoon's eyes darted to your lips, a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Initially, you didn't intend on having a little make out session with him, but when he looked that good, how could you not?

Wasting no time, you took his face between your palms and smashed your lips against his, initiating a passionate kiss. His hands squeezed your waist in response to your bold actions, a low groan vibrating against your lips as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pressing your mouths closer together. The exhilarating rush of heat that ran through you was intense and had you feeling lightheaded.

Your hands released his face and moved to his hair, raking your fingers through it, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands.

"I love you, Y/n." He sighed against your lips.

"I love you too, Namjoon."

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[lordgrimwing]

Findekáno's Tattoo

This was a part of Alqualondë that Findekáno had never been to before. 

Really, he could say that about most of the Telerin city. He and his siblings and cousins were mostly interested in enjoying the beach when they ventured down from Tirion. They’d been to Olwë’s house (not really much of a palace, certainly nothing like Grandfather Finwë’s home) a couple times, too, what with Uncle Arafinwë marrying his daughter. But as a whole, Findekáno  felt half lost as he searched for the shop he was looking for.

He’d gotten the name of the shop from an elf in Tirion who specialized in adorning the body. A common enough craft among the Noldor, though his parents would have objected to their son utilizing her services, given her reputation. He agreed with them on that, though more because she was bound to know about the family drama than because she was too liberal with her needle and ink.

No, no. For this he had to find an outsider, and Mórowen of the Teleri came well recommended.

Or, at least, recommended.

Findekáno stopped to squint at a driftwood sign polished nearly blank by the combination of saltwater spray and the fine sand carried by the wind and foot traffic all over the city. This looked like the shop he’d been directed to. The only way to know was to go inside and face whatever awaited.

Pushing aside the strings of seashells decorating the entrance, he stepped into the small shop.

“In a minute.” The sharp words came from a black-hair elf, uncommon for a Teleri, hunched over a low table.

“Mhph,” the elf laying face-down on the table said as Mórowen tapped her tattooing comb into their back.

Embarrassed (and more than a little flustered at seeing someone half naked), Findekáno ducked back into the street to wait.

Well over a minute passed before the Teleri, still indecently underdressed, walked out, accompanied by a taller elf he hadn’t noticed. The freshly tattooed patron offered the waiting prince a casual greeting gesture that broke off with a wince. The bigger elf laughed and then they were gone.

He hesitated at the lintel. Did he really want to do this?

“Come, come,” Mórowen said. “Don’t block the light.”

“Hello.” He tried to calm his nerves as he stepped into the tiny shop, more of a shack compared to what he was used to. “I heard you craft adornments for the skin?”

She snorted. “If your clothes or face were not enough, I’d know you're a Noldo now. Yes, I do.”

He stumbled over his tongue. The last time he’d been this embarrassed had to be when he slipped at the feast and landed in Maitimo’s lap, spilling wine all over both of them. Their fathers saw the whole thing and Maitimo quickly excused himself and fled.

“Sit down.” Mórowen pointed at a three-legged stool next to the table. “What do you want?”

It wobbled dangerously under him. “I-” there was no going back now, he’d come all this way and he’d see this through. “I’d like a tattoo.”

“And every fisher wants Ossë to not break their nets. Do you know what you want?”

He had the sudden urge to hide his hands behind him. The way her eyes flicked up and down made him feel like she was picking which spot of exposed skin to set her au to first. His answer came out in a rush.  “A name.”

She sat back on her work stool, tapping one finger on the table. “A name?” Her eyebrows rose. 

He wasn’t sure if it was mocking. He thought it could be. “Yes. Maitimo.” 

From a pocket, he pulled a scrap of linen paper. He’d drawn the name out to look exactly the way he wanted, with extra flourishes. He stopped short of including hearts, but he’d wanted to.

Mórowen took the paper and inspected his work. “Maitimo,” she repeated and then read out each tangwa and ómatehta. “You want it to look like this?”

“Yes,” he insisted, defensive. 

She shrugged. “Where?

“My side.” He’d thought for a long time about that. The tattoo had to go somewhere he would never casually reveal. “Just above my hip.”

“You’ll have to pull your shirt up,” she said it like she expected him to run out in a panic at the notion.

“Okay. Can we start now?”

She nodded. “I have time.”

In the course of a minute, Findekáno found himself lying on his side on the surprisingly comfortable table, his shirt bunched up under his arm and his pants pushed low on his hips. Mórowen’s hands were surprisingly warm against his skin but he couldn’t help flinching nervously with every foreign touch.

“Maitimo, Maitimo,” she murmured as she put ink to her comb. She paused with the comb’s teeth almost touching him.  

He bit his lip and closed his eyes, bracing.

“Maitimo,” she repeated. “Isn’t he your cousin?”

Findekáno froze. “Half-cousin.”

“Aren’t your fathers feuding?”

Why was this Teleri, of all Teleri, reasonably informed on Noldorin politics? He thought they all had little interest in what happened beyond the shore. What would he have to do to convince her to forget about the whole thing and never speak a word of this to anyone? Father would be livid if he found out, and Maitimo might get in trouble too if Fëanáro heard about it.

“Eh, but perhaps I am mistaken,” she said and tapped the needles into his skin.

By the time Mórowen put her comb away and wiped his skin with a damp rag, Findekáno was almost regretting the whole thing. He wasn’t sure he could make the hike back up the mountain without his side tearing open. Even breathing made it hurt.

“Wash with cool water three times between minglings and pat it dry with rabbit fur.”

“Why?” He couldn’t imagine touching anywhere near the tattoo for at least a year.

She laughed. “You’ll know why if you don’t listen.”

“Now,” she hummed, helping him adjust his clothes so they fit right, “when your Maitimo is ready, send him to me for the other half.”

And with that, she bundled him out of her shop.

He stood in the street, sand accumulating inside his sandals again. He was not looking forward to the walk home. Maybe he could find someone in the market who would be driving a wagon back to Tirion and he could ride with them.

Already yearning for sleep, Findekáno set off toward the sounds of people arguing over prices and the good-natured conversations that seemed to be the hallmark of markets everywhere. He couldn’t resist tracing a finger over the name permanently inked into his skin as he went.

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Capitol Living Quarters For Victors We Know And Love:

In my head the Victors get allocated blank space apartments on the floor of their district in the Tribute Centre for when they 'need' to be in the Capitol, whether for The Games or for clients. Maybe these rooms get memorialised after their deaths, maybe they get scrapped and left for the next victor, you decide. Here are some headcanons on their rooms.

Mags Flanagan:

Simple and clean, reminiscent of home if slightly on the more luxurious side. Gravitates towards blues and whites, as it reminds her of the ocean. Usually has a scared tribute sleeping in here at least once a year, so it's very cosy and calming.

Finnick Odair:

So I couldn't actually find a reference I was 100% happy with but this is the closest I could get. To me Finnick's room is full of reminders of home - seashell strings on the wall his sisters made, driftwood tables and stuff like that. I also think it's full of things that catch his eye - whether because it's almost impossible soft or kind of quirky, and even though it's kind of eclectic, the room is full of pale blues and soft yellows. I also like to think that he has a lot of art on his walls to remind him of the sea - most people get homesick but Finnick gets seasick.

Johanna Mason:

So I reckon Johanna fully started this room expecting to lean fully into the District 7 aesthetic, but when her family was killed she tapped out and the Capitol designers were left to fill in the blanks. Consequently her room is like a mix of too much yet not enough home, and she despises the place. If she had to pick between being in this room or at home though, she'd always pick this room. Home has too many ghosts for Johanna.

Haymitch Abernathy:

Haymitch's room is a mess, for sure. Littered with beer bottles and other booze whenever he's in it, but when he leaves it's always magically cleaned and smelling like citrus when he returns. It's filled with all sorts of cheap tat - most of it makeshift gifts received from the tributes he knowingly sent to their deaths as they knew they wouldn't be getting out alive. Those are the only things in that room he consistently dusts. He has a cactus too. That thing should be dead by now but it isn't. Maybe the cleaners water it.

Bonus round!

Katniss Everdeen:

Katniss designing a bedroom? She would have scoffed and said no, leaving the Capitol (and probably Cinna) to sort it out in her stead. It wouldn't have been bad - it wouldn't have been her safe space sure, but to Katniss a room is a room. As long as she's got a bed, she doesn't care.

Peeta Mellark:

Peeta's on the other hand would be simple but cozy. Let's be real, any tributes after them would probably gravitate towards Peeta if they were scared or struggling, as he's easily the most sensitive and comforting of the gang. So Peeta's room would be full of soft, squishy surfaces and blankets for when sniffling children knock on his door in the middle of the night, along with warm fairy lights and big windows.

Lucy Gray Baird:

Didn't expect to see her here, did ya? Colourful, chaotic, and more than a little jarring to the eye, Lucy Gray's room would have been almost painful to look at. Everything in it has meaning, though, and don't you dare tell her to change anything if you don't wanna get sassed.

Effie Trinket:

Hyper-feminine and rather stylish, Effie's Escort room would be the height of luxury befitting her station. Very comfortable, and slightly impractical in some instances but what does that matter when you have an aesthetic to maintain.

Coriolanus Snow:

Stuck in the past. Nasty, horrible man. Ugh. enjoy your room of designer sadness sir.

Primrose Everdeen:

Were Prim to ever have a Capitol bedroom, it would be full of pastel shades and jewel tones, comfy and cosy. Lots of cute decor and plants - she'd love watering them all. Probably lots of big pillows for buttercup to snooze on.

[johncon]

More than anything else, Constantine had come to realize purgatory was boring as fuck. If it hadn't been for Michael, he would have probably gone mental. As it was, he spent a lot of time working on his hut. It was coming along- certainly the most complex of any of the stone homes dotted between the gray trees. It was now four rooms, consisting of a bedroom, living space, kitchen, and bathroom. Not that most of those rooms mattered- eating and using the bathroom was off the table, since his clothes never stayed dirty and there was no food to eat, though Constantine felt no hunger or thirst here even if there had been food. Sleeping only came when Michael sat nearby him, because otherwise Constantine felt too antsy. He didn't dream when he slept. Of course, there was always more to do- decorating, adding or removing window openings, deciding if the rooms required driftwood-slab doors, fixing the roof. It kept Constantine busy, but not so busy as to not miss Lucifer, Crimson, his friends.

[driftwoodfurniture]

Driftwood Tables

Driftwood tables are more than furniture. They’re pieces of nature’s art. Each table is unique, with its own shape and texture. The natural patterns of driftwood bring a calming, earthy feel to any room. They fit perfectly in various decor styles, from rustic to modern.

Visit Us: https://alldriftwoodfurniture.com/driftwood-tables/

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[meadow-selfship]

💕Otis Driftwood drabble💕

Short thing I wrote for Otis, about the melancholy of the new year and how he would cheer you up when you're down. Mentions of alcohol and fireworks. Dividers by firefly-graphics.

Winter time, after the height of Christmas; sparkling lights and decorated tree made way for a deep homesickness. New Year’s Eve. Spaulding set of the first of the fireworks, and all the others joined in. With a grimace, I covered my ears and stuck close to the dog’s side. The sky erupted in greens, blues, yellows, reds, purples; bright before they sizzled out. After Otis set of his, he pressed me close to his side to watch them together. He didn’t smell of blood for once, just of smoke and the beer everyone was drinking.

“Happy new year, princess,” he said, and kissed me deeply, his palm over my windpipe. Baby giggled as she shot one of the rocket fireworks at RJ, who evaded easily, but retaliated. Watching them mess about got a chuckle from Otis, who joined in after another lingering kiss.

“Keep all your fingers,” I said, in vein, “you idiot.”

Quietly, I sneaked inside and sat on the stairs with the much more skittish cat named Hannah, while I idly held my toothbrush, listening together to the bangs and screeching of the fireworks, and the laughing and yelling from the family.  

When Otis came to bed, I pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t initiate sex.

8 AM, January first. After a meagre seven hours of sleep I gathered all the waste that was left in the yard: the fireworks and the empty cans and cigarette butts.

Otis was the second to come down, and fell down into the couch next to me, clasping his hand on my thigh. He loked at me for awhile, before fumbling with the empty cigarette box he took from the table, tearing it bit by bit as his gaze grew ever more unreadable.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said.

“Hmm. Homesick. Or just melancholic.” I shrugged.

“And moody.”

“Yeah.”

He clapped his hands on his knees, throwing whatever was left of the cigarette packet on the table again. “Come on, let’s go out.”

[lakelewisia]

🐟Catch of the Day🦐

Yule Driftwood Log: a savory variation on the classic holiday showpiece, featuring a crisp garlicky bread log stuffed with whipped crab cream, decorated with barnacles, kelp, anemones and other sea life formed from an assortment of mousses, pastries, and sea vegetables

Ice Fishing Special: fun for the whole family, we bring a frozen tureen to your table, along with tools and tiny fishing poles, so you can chip away the edible ice crust and reel out a variety of hidden small bites in the shape of arctic fish

The Iceberg Tart: surrounded by a tender pastry shell and floating in a mixed berry syrup sea, a meringue and whipped cream iceberg towers, but remember: there's always more below the surface than you realize, so make sure to save room and share with the whole table

[roxdelrosario]

closed starter: @bellshq

where: outside of driftwood

Fall was Roxy's favorite season and she was so excited that the town was finally decorated for Halloween and there were already talks of Halloween parties and celebrations. It was all so fun to her, even if they were a scaredy cat when it came to haunted houses or scary movies.

With all the fall excitement, Roxy made her way to Driftwood to grab her first iced pumpkin spice latte of the season and just sit down and work on her menus. But after grabbing her drink, she realized that every table was taken. When she stepped outside, though, she noticed an open seat. "Hi. Uh... would you mind if I sit with you?"

[jovialevents12]

Unleash Your Creativity Top Theme Wedding Ideas in Dubai

Jovial Events

Website: https://www.jovialevents.com/

E-Mail: info@jovialevents.com

Phone: +971 50 108 8607

Unleash Your Creativity Top Theme Wedding Ideas in Dubai

Dubai, with its stunning landscapes and luxurious venues, is a dream destination for couples looking to tie the knot. If you’re seeking a unique and unforgettable experience, themed weddings can elevate your special day to new heights. Here are some top theme wedding ideas that will help you unleash your creativity and make your Dubai wedding truly memorable.

1. Arabian Nights

Transform your wedding into a magical evening inspired by the enchanting tales of the Arabian Nights. Think rich, vibrant colors like deep purples, golds, and reds, combined with luxurious fabrics and intricate lanterns. Incorporate elements like traditional Arabic music, belly dancers, and a lavish buffet featuring Middle Eastern cuisine.

2. Beach Paradise

With Dubai’s stunning coastline, a beach-themed wedding is a fantastic choice. Decorate with seashells, driftwood, and soft pastel colors to create a serene atmosphere. Consider hosting a sunset ceremony followed by a relaxed reception with beach games, fire pits, and tropical cocktails.

3. Fairytale Romance

Bring your childhood fairytale dreams to life with a fairytale-themed wedding. Choose a castle-like venue, such as the stunning Al Qasr at Madinat Jumeirah, and incorporate elements like a horse-drawn carriage, sparkling fairy lights, and whimsical floral arrangements. Dress in elegant gowns and suits that evoke the magic of classic fairy tales.

4. Vintage Glamour

Channel the charm of the past with a vintage-themed wedding. Opt for a classic venue with a touch of nostalgia, and use decor elements like antique furniture, vintage lace, and old-fashioned signage. Encourage guests to dress in period-inspired attire and incorporate vintage cocktails into your bar menu.

5. Cultural Fusion

Celebrate your unique heritage by creating a cultural fusion wedding that blends traditions from both families. Decorate with elements from each culture, offer a diverse menu that showcases your culinary backgrounds, and incorporate traditional rituals into your ceremony. This theme is a beautiful way to honor your roots while celebrating your love.

6. Enchanted Garden

Create a lush, romantic atmosphere with an enchanted garden theme. Use greenery, flowers, and fairy lights to transform your venue into a magical outdoor paradise. Incorporate whimsical touches like oversized floral arrangements, garden seating, and nature-inspired centerpieces to bring the theme to life.

7. Travel and Adventure

If you and your partner love to explore, consider a travel-themed wedding. Use vintage suitcases, globes, and maps as decor elements, and name tables after your favorite travel destinations. Incorporate a guestbook where guests can write travel tips or share their favorite memories from trips with you.

8. Modern Minimalism

For couples who appreciate sleek design and simplicity, a modern minimalist wedding can create an elegant and sophisticated atmosphere. Choose a venue with clean lines and neutral colors, and focus on understated decor elements like geometric shapes and monochromatic floral arrangements.

9. Masquerade Ball

Add an air of mystery and elegance with a masquerade ball theme. Encourage guests to wear glamorous masks and formal attire, and decorate your venue with rich colors, candelabras, and dramatic draping. Consider hiring a string quartet or jazz band to set the mood for a truly enchanting evening.

10. Carnival Celebration

Inject some fun and excitement into your wedding with a carnival theme. Set up games, food stalls, and colorful decorations that bring the spirit of a fair to your celebration. Incorporate elements like cotton candy, popcorn, and a photo booth with props for a lighthearted and enjoyable atmosphere.