#grey modern armchair

[beesolively]

New York Enclosed Large transitional enclosed living room with gray walls, a stone fireplace, a standard fireplace, and no television.

[mezzoalex]

New York Enclosed Inspiration for a large transitional enclosed dark wood floor and black floor living room remodel with gray walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and no tv

[dustinyellin]

Home Bar - Transitional Home Bar

[daddyskinkyelf]

Built-In Home Office Philadelphia

Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic built-in desk medium tone wood floor and brown floor study room remodel with blue walls

[dogsthatlookliketomhaverford]

Modern Home Bar - Home Bar

Small modern single-wall wet bar design with flat-panel cabinets, medium-tone wood cabinets, quartz countertops, black backsplash, and gray countertops, as well as an undermount sink.

[twispicalstephen]

Bedroom London

Example of a small minimalist master bedroom with no fireplace, gray walls, a carpeted floor, and wallpaper on the ceiling.

[cubern]

Freestanding - Contemporary Home Office Picture of a study room with a mid-sized trendy freestanding desk, a light wood floor, and a brown floor, and gray walls without a fireplace

[mastermigraciones]

Dining Room - Great Room Great room with a large, contemporary dark wood floor and brown floor, white walls, and a typical fireplace

[daisy-source]

Open - Family Room

[reecewykes]

Bedroom (London)

[minecraft-problems]

After A Long Day, Relax In Stylish And Comfortable Armchairs.

There are several beautiful vintage italian armchair styles available in a wide variety of hues and materials. As previously said, leather is a very popular material. It is incredibly comfy, stylish, and durable. You might not want leather, but don’t worry-there are many other upholstery materials and designs available. Colours can be wacky, traditional, cottage-style, chintz, or anything in…

[ultisart]

San Francisco Transitional Living Room

[golshiftehnews]

London Living Room Library

[utterlyotterlyx]

New Pages

Part Two

Modern!Az x Fem!Reader

Summary - After giving Azriel a chance to build your friendship, you find yourself needing more of him.

Warnings - none really, lots of fluff, some pining

Part One

The shock on everyone's faces was palpable when Azriel had stepped into the sorority house that calm summer afternoon, the windows were open and the curtains floated in the warm summer breeze that Feyre questioned was actually cooling them down at all, and the fans whirred, throwing out cool gusts of air as they turned about the room.

They were all sweaty, thin layers of it coated their brows and they all lay wearing as little clothing as possible without seeming indecent, the guys had their shirts wrapped around their necks, and the girls were clad in vest tops and shorts, all begging for some kind of release from the heat that had risen from the depths of hell to torture them.

Nesta thought the heat had finally infiltrated her ice cold soul, she actually thought she was dreaming when she peered up from her place splayed on the wooden floor with Cassian's arm draped over her midriff to see Azriel looking down on them dressed in dark denim shorts and a loose tank top wearing a smirk, "Am I seeing things or are you actually stood in our house?"

The sound of Nesta's voice made the rest of the room stir all turning their heads in unison to find Azriel stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets and hair falling over his face. Feyre sat up despite Rhys' groans of protest, wafting her face with her handheld foldable fan that possessed a swirl of ornate colour, of pale blues and greys, with birds sketched onto the surface, "I thought you were busy today?"

Azriel shrugged, "I am," then the padding of feet sounded from the hallway above, toppling down the stairs until you appeared at the bottom of the them, frowning at the sight of your friends cascaded about the living room.

Mor went to say something, something along the lines of what the fuck, but Rhys jabbed his heel into her shin and she instead hissed at the force, throwing Rhys a sidelong glance which he returned with a knowing smirk and raised eyebrow.

"You okay, Mor?" Mor hummed, forcing a smile and nodding at you, her eyes drifted over your figure, from your perfectly curled hair that hadn't dropped from the humid heat, to the pale yellow sundress with frilled shoulders, to the beige sandals that snaked up your calves, you had your usual leather satchel pressed to your side no doubt homing your sketchbook and pencils, and your makeup was simple and made your face shimmer in the rich sunlight.

"Peachy," Mor strained, rubbing her fingers against the throbbing patch of skin that Rhys had booted moments before, "Where are two off to?"

"Oh, I mentioned that I needed to stop by the book store for more supplies and Azriel asked to come with," they knew the bookshop that you spoke of, the one you went into every time you had an early morning class, it was a bookshop that had a section of art supplies and a little café in the back corner which was the place they'd always find you if you weren't answering your phone, usually finding you curled up into the comfort of a deep seated armchair, reading away mindlessly. You nudged Azriel with your shoulder, a soft sparkle in your eyes, "He needs more film for his camera."

Azriel was an art major but specialised in photography, he was always the one on road trips who would take the most breath-taking photos, of them or the landscape, his portfolio was incredible to sift through. He was really talented.

Azriel cleared his throat, "I have a project coming up, Muses of the Universe, need to make sure I'm stocked up," adjusted the long strap of his camera on his shoulder and smiled thinly at them, "Shall we go?"

Rhys was dumbfounded, he knew that you two had quashed the angst between you, but he never expected his brother to turn up at your house to pick you up for a day of what, shopping? "Are you wearing sunscreen?!" Nesta shouted after your retreating form, propping herself up on her elbows and scowling at the idea that you may not be.

A giggle floated through the hallway, around the open door and to their ears, "Yes, mum."

Then the door closed and the silence that flooded the room was confused, it was intense, "I'm sorry but since when?" Amren's eyes were wide below her dipped brows, her gaze flickering across the space to each of their faces.

Mor met her with the same incredulous glare, "Right?!" Mor kicked Rhys' chair, "You must know something."

Rhys' held his hands up in feigned surrender, "I really don't. Az hasn't said anything to us," he motioned between himself and Cassian, pushing his hair back away from his face and sighing.

"He crashed her book club," Elain entered the room holding a translucent water bottle in her manicured fingers, her hair was neatly tied to the back of her head, and she was wearing a loose pink blouse that was tucked into the waist of her flared white shorts. On her way out to see Lucien no doubt.

"Tell us everything," Feyre grabbed Elain by the wrist and pulled her down to the sofa, she scoffed at the action and ordered Feyre not to touch her with those sweaty hands again before relenting.

"All I know is that he turned up to her book club and recited one of her favourite passages, they've been fine ever since," Elain grimaced at the sweat that coated them all and stood from the seat, turning the bracelet on her wrist so that the diamond pendent lay visible against her skin, "Don't be a meddler," Elain poked Feyre's cheek playfully before chiming her goodbye and leaving the house.

Another warm gust floated through the window and they all groaned, internally cursing you and Elain who weren't bothered by the searing heatwave that had descended upon the borough as you pranced about the town and soaked up the sunshine.

The basket was full to the brim with books, some classics that had been released with new covers, and new additions to the plethora of series you had been reading, and finished, awaiting for the next to drop from the skies and into your hands.

Thank the Mother for aircon.

The bookshop was busy, possibly because it was one of the few places that offered shelter from the sweltering heat, and Azriel had watched you say hello to your classmates and the shop workers, he watched you ask about their days and if any of the things you had ordered had arrived yet.

Azriel had insisted holding your basket as you scoured the shelves, plucking books from their perches and reading the reverse, frowning in concentration as you tried to decide whether or not to add it to the pack waiting to return home with you.

Your eyes had spied something on the top shelf, and Azriel cocked his head to the side slightly as you tried to reach upward, your fingers barely brushing against the ledge of the shelf as you strained yourself, groaning softly as your heels touched the floor again.

Then a shadow cast itself over you, and you peered through your lashes to see Azriel stood behind you, arm outstretched and effortlessly taking the book from the shelf. Cedar and rain kissed your lungs and you shivered in delight as your fingers brushed against his to take the book he had offered to you, "Thank you."

Azriel smiled down on you, "Don't mention it," you didn't even look at the back before popping in on top of the pile in the basket, "Are you not going to make sure you want it?"

You hummed in reply, leading you both to the checkout, "Don't need to," you paid for the books and collected your art supplies, waiting to the side for Azriel to pay for his film, and once he did, he made his way over to you and removed one of the bags from your fingers, not accepting your protests as he walked into the café.

Oat chai latte, with cinnamon. You always had to have the cinnamon. You thanked him as he slid the beverage onto the glass surface of the table with the wicker legs, he sat down opposite you, running his hand through his hair and relaxing into his seat as he stirred his black americano with a dash of hot milk. A drink of tortured artist.

"Are you going to book club this week?"

Azriel's ears perked up at your question, the hope in your eyes told him that you wanted him there, "What's the book?"

"Little Women. Have you read it before?"

Azriel sipped the strong black beverage and cleared his throat, "There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind."

"You just keep on surprising me, Shadowsinger," your smile was bright and your soul soft and relaxed, your eyes held a sparkle within them that he would die for just to have them be the sky of his afterlife.

Before Azriel could reply, someone had called out your last name, the one he desperately wanted to change to his own one day. Ruhn scraped a free chair across the floor and sat with his chest against the back beside you, "I've been texting you," he grinned politely at Azriel, rife with confusion but polite nonetheless.

"Sorry, I left my phone at home," I didn't want to be distracted, you seemed to say and Azriel's heart skipped a beat, "What's up?"

"There's a football match tonight, thought you'd like to join us? Eris and Ithan are playing, they always do better when you're in the stands," Ruhn spoke knowingly and Azriel cringed at the mention of Eris' name, the guy who had made it very clear how much he liked you and still persisted, like Ruhn, to gain your attention. Not like Azriel could blame either of them at all for their desires, you truly were one in seven billion.

"Sure," you turned to Azriel, "Do you want to come?"

Azriel could feel Ruhn's fury at your question, but not toward you, toward him who held your gaze and nodded, "I'd love to."

"Great," you chimed, turning back to Ruhn, "We'll see you there," it was a polite dismissal, one that Ruhn despised but respected as he told you the time you'd be meeting before placing the chair back at the table he'd taken it from and walking back out into the sun, his golden skin glistening under its eye.

"So," he whistled, "Eris?"

"What about him?" You smoothed down the skirt of your dress and took a sip of your latte, sighing as the sweetness poured down your throat.

It was no secret that the eldest of the Vanserra clan pined after you, taking every opportunity possible to bask in your glow, "Has anything ever happened between you?"

A laugh fell from your lips and you shook your head, "Never. Eris isn't my type," you waved the idea away, "I like the romantic types, the gentle souls full of surprises. I want someone who tells me that they love me everyday, who makes me feel like I'm living in a novel. I don't think Eris is that guy."

Azriel saw your eyes glaze over, getting lost in the sentiment of old fashioned love, and he knew that he was the one to make those pure dreams come true.

Author's Note

Part 3??

[vryfmi]

[id from alt text: four digital sketches of Lucy Carlyle and the skull (Lockwood and Co books).

Lucy is sitting with her arms crossed and resting on top of skull's ghost-jar that sits on her lap, she looks to the up right corner.

Lucy's sitting in the armchair, legs brought up, providing support for the book she's reading. skull sits on the floor in front, leaning back on the armchair and looking up at her, he wears modern clothes. Lucy looks back at him smiling.

skull and Lucy sit back to back on the sofa, Lucy sits with her legs brought up and skull leans back on her with hands over his head.

lineless headshots of human skull and Lucy next to each other./end id]

low effort skullyle sketches with colour palettes generated on farbecolore.com from when i was trying to get myself out of artblock

[id from alt text: two screenshots of colour palettes, submitted text reads "skullyle" and "skull x lucy", respectively. first one consists of mainly greys, muted greens and a few other tones. the second one of of greys, muted green, orange and dark pink colours and a few lighter tones. bottom text reads: "color image from farbecolore.com"./end id]

and palettes themselves, i like the second one the most

[biblioklept-writes]

Massage (Modern!Aemond)

Summary: In which, you take care of Modern!Aemond after a stressful day at work.

Word Count: 1090 words of pure fluff :D

Can be read as a standalone, or as my Stargirl Reader!

A/N: A short piece that i cooked up off my mid-term stress, as my stress reliever. Also can we appreciate how beautiful Ewan is I just cant get enough of his pretty face

HOTD Masterlist

“Hey champ,” you ruffle Daeron’s hair as you make your presence known at the Targaryen Penthouse - currently shared by the youngest sons of Alicent. Daeron is your boyfriend Aemond’s little brother, and you love him like he is yours. You share the same taste in music and he looks up to you for career guidance, which you are glad to assist him with. “How has college been?”

“I’m coping,” He admits. “Better experience than school was.”

“See, I told you.” You smile at him, sitting beside him on the couch. You reach for your bag and take out the box you had gotten specially for him. “I think you would like this,” you hand him over the box, and the young man twirls it in his hands for a moment and shakes it to guess what it is.

“What is it?” He asks. You motion for him to open it, and he neatly opens the wrapper, a bright, dimpled smile gracing his face and violet eyes shining brighter than the stars. “This is the best mouse! Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I know you could use this, champ.” You say, smiling at him. “Where is your brother?”

“Oh, Aemond just got home from work,” He says, his smile dimming. “He was complaining about his neck and back, and went to his room without eating.”

“I should go check up on him,” You say.

“You’re the only one he even listens to,” Daeron sighs. “You and if the day’s luck he listens to Helaena.” 

Taking a glass of milk and a couple of cookies, you go up the stairs to Aemond’s room. The room is unlocked, and you utilise the girlfriend privilege of entering without knocking. You find Aemond relaxing on his armchair with the sleeves of his black shirt pulled over his elbow and his collar open. His tie and the green suit jacket are laying on the floor, very uncharacteristic of your put-together man. His long silver hair is free of any confines, but it’s messy - he seems to have run his fingers multiple times through them.

You leave the tray at his desk and pick up his suit jacket and the tie, putting them in the dirty laundry drawer. You make your presence known with a forced cough. “Are you in need of any assistance, Mr. Targaryen?” you politely ask.

His violet eye abruptly opens at the sound of your voice, and he throws his head back with a sigh. “You shouldn’t have bothered with me, my love.” He says, closing his eye again. “You have enough worries as is.”

“We’ve barely been spending any time together,” You complain. “And your brother tells me you have neck and back pains. Maybe your age is catching up to you, old man. I order you to undress now.”

A playful smirk dances on his lips at your command, but he makes no motion to move. “You said it yourself, age is catching up with your old man.” He teases. “You should be doing the work instead of ordering me around, love.”

You chuckle despite yourself, “Come on Aemond, let me help you.”

“Whatever the missus says,” Aemond lazily extracts himself from the armchair, stretching his long limbs as he does. You go through his wardrobe and throw him the comfortable grey pants that you adore, looking for the balms or oils that you could use. You find a pain relief gel and coconut oil and smile at the little victory.

“What would your next command be, your highness?” He teases again. Some of the tension in his brow disappears as he pulls his sweatpants up, leaving him bare chested. You are half distracted by the sight of the smooth planes of his stomach and his pecs, but you tell yourself it’s not the time now.

“Lie down on your stomach,” You say with a cheeky grin. He raises his brow but does as you say, and you sit beside him, kicking off your slippers before throwing a leg over his arse and sitting on him. “And tell me where it hurts.”

“I’m fine,” he lies, and you throw a threatening glare at him. “My neck, the whole spine actually.” he concedes at your burning gaze.

“See, it was this easy.” You say. 

Aemond flinches once the cool gel touches his warm back, but relaxes once you start rubbing the gel gently into his skin. You rub the gel along his spine, paying more attention to his long neck and broad shoulders, making do with coconut oil as your massaging medium. Your thumbs trace gentle circular patterns on the zones that usually hurt you the most when you are stressed and take your time massaging his neck, pushing his luscious hair out of the way. Aemond occasionally makes a pleased hum or lets out a sigh and you are focused on the task at hand, making your boyfriend relax with all the stress his father puts him through.

You are thorough with your pampering, reaching every spot that you can, massaging away the knots on his back. You press your thumbs on either side of his spine, and he lets out a pleased sigh, as you continue your motion up and down his spine a couple of times. You squeeze his muscular forearms and strong shoulders, taking weight off the joints that easily carried yours. 

“How are you feeling now?” You softly ask. Getting no response, you check up on your boyfriend, who seemingly fell asleep with the relaxation of your ministrations. 

You smile to yourself and get off him, and he stirs, grumbling, “Stay.”

“I’ll just get changed into something more comfortable,” you say.

He sits up rubbing his eye like a child, a pout on his pink lips, and you are overtaken with cuteness aggression. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity, you hand over the tray of milk and cookies, saying, “The faster you finish all of this, the faster I’ll join you on the bed.”

Half asleep and frowning to keep himself sleepy, Aemond follows your instructions without complaint as you change into a pair of shorts and a tank top that you’ve left here. By the time you return, only two of the five cookies remain, and the glass of milk has been finished by this man-child of your sleepy lover. Sharing the half of the last cookie with him, you feel at peace.

You run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as he snuggles into your neck, breathing in your homely scent.