#fine furniture

[stone-cold-groove]

Furniture, lamps, objects of art.

[blanderthings-blog]

Understanding Modern Home Decor: A Guide to Creating Stylish and Functional Spaces

Introduction:In the realm of interior design, modern home decor has gained immense popularity in recent years. With its clean lines, minimalist approach, and emphasis on functionality, modern decor offers a refreshing and timeless aesthetic. However, understanding the principles and elements that define modern home decor can be overwhelming. This blog post aims to demystify the concept and…

[ahshanhabibbd]

Furniture Design

[technopooja]

https://www.luxuryhomes.om/brand/agresti

[wealllovesloths]

Las Vegas Dining Room Enclosed Large industrial enclosed dining room with a medium tone wood floor and a brown floor and gray walls

[drunkasaurus]

Built-In in Oklahoma City Mid-sized elegant built-in desk carpeted home office photo

[residenteevee]

Lookout - Eclectic Basement Mid-sized eclectic look-out carpeted basement photo with beige walls

[liimonadas]

they are having a samuraiverse dicussion

[httyd-mc-pl-twilight]

Mudroom - Midcentury Entry Mid-sized 1950s mudroom photo

[exclusivefurnirancescomolon]

Exclusive Furniture by Francesco Molon

5235 Winterberry Ave, Simi Valley, CA 93063

Phone: (805) 5174717

Website: GoLuxuryfurniture.com

Exclusive Furniture by Francesco Molon is providing best Furniture  in Simi Valley, CA. We‌ ‌are‌ ‌Authorized‌ ‌and‌ ‌fully‌ ‌insured.‌

 ‌ ‌

Visit‌ ‌us‌ ‌in‌ 5235 Winterberry Ave, Simi Valley, CA 93063 or‌ ‌call‌ ‌us‌ ‌today‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌fast‌ ‌and‌ ‌experienced‌ ‌service‌,‌ (805) 5174717.‌

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Get‌ ‌24‌ ‌HOUR‌ ‌SERVICE,‌ ‌7‌ ‌DAYS‌ ‌A‌ ‌WEEK‌. We support Ukraine.

[husbandyke]

rough butch hands... calloused butch hands... scarred butch hands.... hairy butch hands.... butch hands that always have at least one bandaid or scab on them... butch hands with specific callouses from playing guitar or writing or drawing or sports or work... !!!

AND ALSO... delicate butch hands... small butch hands... soft butch hands... butch hands with pretty nails... butch hands with tattoos... butch hands with missing fingers... disabled butch hands... vascular butch hands... fat butch hands... butch hands decked out in rings... all butch hands UGH !!! ❤️❤️❤️

[blanderthings-blog]

Fly Fishing Elegance: Discover Anderson Woodworks' Natural Creations

🎣 Calling All Fly Tying Enthusiasts! 🎣 Hi there! I’m the artisan behind Anderson Woodworks, where we craft stunning furniture from solid wood. As a fellow fly fishing enthusiast, I understand the joy of tying your own flies and being surrounded by nature’s beauty. Why settle for plastic tools when you can elevate your fly tying experience with our exquisite wooden tying desks, beautiful…

[fizzytoo]

they finally saved enough money for their dream home! now it’s time to pack 😤

[emry-stars-art]

Once again. I don’t know when I’ll be able to color this but here’s the full wip (corresponding to this whump post)

Usually Abram’s recovery goes about as expected but sometimes there’s stretches where he kind of slumps, just part of the ups and downs of recovery. Part of that is the constant vigilance he was forced to have in Evermore catching up to him again, so his health deteriorates and he gets jumpy and anxious and most of all exhausted. He figures out his brain remembers the mealtime breaks; and even if Andrew would never allow it at the table, the prince can recognize when he needs to give a little and let Abram sleep on the floor. It’s the only way he’ll fully relax. When he figures this out, there’s suddenly and mysteriously a few nice floor pillows and other furniture and blankets added to his room, and more for Abram to take to his own.

(Can I count this as whumptober 25 if one of the prompts is flashback 🤔)

[hurglewurm]

me: we are Not going to worsen our life while in a minor depressive episode

the brain: :/

[honeycollectswhump]

maybe put a shock collar on Ashtray?

Lightning in His Veins

[masterlist]

CW: shock collar, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, dehumanisation

His Mistress has a new collar for him. Ashtray should be excited at the prospect of being decorated, but something about it makes his stomach churn. It is big, black and ugly. Nothing like the delicate accessories his Mistress usually dresses him in, and that almost feels like a sin.

Maybe it's because the collar is a gift from one of her friends, watching excitedly. Not for Ashtray, of course, nothing is ever for him, nothing belongs to him, that’s how it's supposed to be. But sometimes they gift her things to dress him in, though nothing comes close to her knowledge of style and grace. This collar must be one of those gifts then, and who is Ashtray to question that. A Good Boy never questions his superiors, a Good Boy never questions anything. A Good Boy does what he is told.

So Ashtray does. He bares his neck prettily, taking note of how his torso moves, twisting on fresh burns, knowing that the glitter the servants applied must shine like tiny diamonds. And maybe, silently, he hopes that his Mistress’ friends must be so jealous of her beautiful, perfect possessions, decked in gold and jewels, just what dreams are made of. 

…At least he thinks that’s what dreams must be like. Objects don’t dream, naturally. 

As his Mistress closes the clasps of the collar, as her pristine red nails scratch over a burn scrab, he can’t help but focus on the feelings of prongs digging into his throat in an uncomfortably familiar way. Ashtray doesn’t dwell on it though. He has already learned, there is nothing to fear. The blank rooms are far gone and instead have been blessedly replaced by the shining smiles his Mistress graces him with, her cold hands like glistening ice bringing warm burns, and the golden glamour she has allowed him to be a part of. 

Satisfied, his Mistress steps back. She is saying something, talking with her guest, exchanging airy laughter and warbled pleasant tones, washing over Ashtray like pearly morning dew he can picture in his mind but has never seen before. He could get lost in her voice, riding on it like clouds carrying him through his purpose, and yet never being too distracted, always keeping an eye on the ground just low enough so he’ll never miss a clue he can’t understand, never missing the remote–

The remote being handed to his Mistress, equally as black as the collar, making him suddenly awake of the prongs against his throat and the pit forming in his stomach. 

Ashtray stays still though, perfectly poised, and suppresses the flinch before it had even fully realised. Maybe he hopes, desperately, if he is Good enough she’ll decide against it. Maybe it was all a test, maybe, maybe… Maybe he can see it coming just enough to give her the reaction she wants. 

Almost pleadingly in the silence of his own mind, Ashtray knows he isn’t trained for pain. He is supposed to be an Ashtray, an object with a specific use, it’s all he could ever hope to know. The thought of displeasing her with his reaction scares him more than any pain ever could. What if he reacts too much? What if he is not– Lightning burns down his veins, ripping out his throat, his skin and tissue and soul. Two punctures spread venom down his very being, and there is no escape no escape no escape no escape no escape

Suddenly, it’s gone and Ashtray finds himself curled up on the ground, his limbs still twitching. He can’t remember how but surely it wasn’t graceful and–

His mouth rips open in a breathless scream, a pathetic, garbled screech barely noticeable over the sound of mindless thrashing, limbs hitting the floor, head banging against polished stone. It’s fire and lightning and Punishment and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything, only knows Pain and Punishment and Please Stop.

Pause.

Breath.

Notice saliva dripping from the mouth. Not elegant. Not trained.

Hell. 

Like veins imploding, swallowing what is left of Ashtray, leaving no trace of his purpose. Like poison, destruction, ruin, Ødelæggelse.

Stop.

Gasp.

Look up at Mistress, hope for mercy, hope for anything.

Find glee. Find amused laughter. Please.

It never ends…

• • •

He is still here. Ashtray is still here. Twisted, on the ground, the venom still burning in every vessel, but here. His tongue feels thick and swollen in his mouth, dried and bloody at the same time. Somehow, it is all pain, every single cell in his body is pain and lightning and shocks still coursing through him.

Maybe she heard him think. Maybe she felt her Ashtray have stupid little thoughts about things he should be grateful for, like being adorned in a big, black, ugly painful it hurts burning agonising beautiful collar. 

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox let me know if you want to be added or removed :)