headboard-design

Bedroom Decor/ Headboard and Pillow Talk

Today I will give tips on how to combine traditional items with contemporary in bedroom decor to create a warm and inviting feel with a touch of luxury without breaking the budget.

The Headboard is an easiest way to make a statement in a bedroom. Here is how you can achieve a one-of-a-kind look for under $100.

Materials:
Foam Board
Wall Paper ( Amy Butler Collection from Graham & Brown)
Glue
Nails
Satin Ribbon

Measure Foam board and nail it to the wall. Make sure this is the exact location your bed will stay and this is where you want your headboard to be located. Make an outline with a pencil before and use a level after. Glue 3 pieces of wallpaper, leaving 1-½ inch gaps in between. Let the glue dry. Cover gaps with satin ribbon.

Now it is time to add details, such as accessories and decorative throw pillows. Here I am going to play with silky textures, a touch of lush pearls and a soft sheep skin to create a more contemporary feel.

I made two multi functional pillowcases from a white silk sheet and decorated them with custom-made flowers ( made out of craft thread in a variety of green shades with a glittering silver button sewn in the middle)

These pillowcases can be used for two pillow sizes: standard Queen as well as decorative 20x20 inch.

Lenox lamp sets a classy mood. An added array of pearl necklaces matches with an existing mauve pearl pillow.

The look is completed with a few more things: a small sheepskin throw to add softness, a sand clock, and a “parrot’’ candle holder. Sweet dreams!

Exhaulted Part Sixteen (M)

Originally posted by sighrendipity

Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three (M), Four, Five, Six (M), Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen (Coming Soon!)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Violence, etc.

Pairing: SehunxReaderxMinseok (Smut with Jongin tho ;D)

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: AYYY SMUT THAT I’M REALLY BAD AT WRITING LOLOLOLOL Also, I love throwing in plot twists! 😈😈😈

Keep reading

6

As you can tell, I rearranged my room again. It’s like an addiction lol. And I plan on moving it around tonight. I’m slowly making my room the exact way I want it to be. I’m going more industrial than geometric now. I also my nightstand. It was a clock table (the clock is now the clock over the bookcase) and now it’s a normal night stand. I also added some books to my bookcase…Also hoping to get a headboard soon.

Omega Verse - BasicallyMoo

Prompts from this drabble collection post are from the following blog: http://rockinrpmemes.tumblr.com/post/119136379661/abo-starters-send-one-for-my-muses-reaction

First One: 27-: “You know, I always kind of envied omegas.”

Two lovers laid side by side in an enormous bed with a largely white, princess designed headboard at the head of the bed and a long, pale white oak dresser at the end. One rolled towards the other, his chest pressed to the other’s back.

“Marcel?”

The other slurred awake and spun around slowly, groggily, and kissed the other briefly before responding, “Yes babe?”

“I-I’ve been thinking… W-Wouldn’t you, an alpha, p-prefer a-an o-omega?”

Marcel frowned, rubbing his eyes to rid himself from sleep. He leaned forward and captured Brock’s lips with his own, licking the other’s bottom lip and waiting for permission. When granted consent, he swirled their tongues together with a sleepy smile.

He broke away and inhaled sweetly, “I love you, Brock. Nothing’s going to change that, okay?”

“I love you too, M. But why? Why do you love me if I’m just beta? I’m… I’m average.”

“You are NOT average, Brock. You are special to me. I know that I don’t want anyone, even an omega, to satisfy me except for you. No one else can satisfy me except you, a magnificent, gorgeous, amazing beta.

Brock placed a gentle hand over his mouth, his eyes tearing up as he stared at Marcel with such a passionate gaze that Marcel’s frown became a large grin. He wrapped his arms around Brock with a smile, “My beta… So soft hearted and oh-so-sensitive. I love you, more than anything in this world, okay?”

“I love you…” Bock whispered, wrapping his arms around Marcel’s neck and placing a quick kiss on his cheek, “So, so much, M.”

“I love you too, my wonderful beta.”

Next Prompt: 32-: “I don’t know why people don’t like betas. I think you’re amazing.”

“I’m back. I bought some eggs and some butter and made sure to pick up your paycheck while I was at it.”

“Brock, babe, welcome back.” Marcel grinned, opening his arms for a hug as a huge display sat behind him.

A table full of presents and gifts from their online gaming friends was accompanied with colorful balloons and notes of ‘Happy Birthdays’ and family cards.

There were even little mini cakes and pies set around a separate table next to the huge gift tables. “Sorry, baby, no one could come but I made sure to get their gifts here and ready!”

“W-What’s this?” Brock’s voice wavered as his face flushed a reddish pink while his eyes were so wide, they could pop out from his head at any second.

“Happy Birthday beautiful.”

“I don’t deserve this, Marcel. I-I’m a beta.”

“Brock, baby, don’t talk like that. Come here.” Marcel sent his lover a reassuring smile, “I love you the way you are.”

Brock sniffled and stepped into his arms, “I love you… so much Marcel..”

“You’re so sensitive… and so valuable to me, Brock. More valuable to me than any Omega could ever be.”

“Y-you’re so wonderful to me…” Brock sniffled, hugging Marcel tighter, pressing a kiss to his neck with a soft sigh.

“I’m just treating my beta as wonderful as I can. You deserve this affection from me AND our friends. Roles don’t matter, you and I both know that.” Marcel said, pressing little, soft kisses to Brock’s cheeks, nose, and temple.

Brock nodded in his embrace, melting in the affection he was given. Marcel smiled softly and added, “I don’t see why people don’t see the value in betas. They’re so valuable; so cherishable, so caring, so soft hearted and kind.”

This One: 36-: “I wish you could claim me.”

Stew boiled in a pot painted bronze, a long golden ladle hanging from the top. However, the cook simply stared out the kitchen window in front of him, not watching the bubbles build up inside and around the brim of the pot. He almost burned his hand on the stove as he slowly set it off the ladle.

Marcel was quick though, catching his hand and holding it carefully, his thumb caressing the muscle just below the palm.

“Brock, baby, what’s running through that majestic mind of yours right now?”

Brock stuttered from his thoughts, glancing at the pot before looking at his hand and smiling, “I wish I was your omega, Marcel… I could give you the family you desire…”

“Brock-”

“I just…” A tear leaves Brock’s eyes as he glancing with a sad smile at their intertwined hands, “I want to see my belly swell with your children… We’ve been married for three years, hon… it hurts. I want you to be happy as an Alpha… I wish you could bond me and claim me as yours… mark me as your only…” His eyes were flooding with tears, soft hiccups leaving his lips as he struggled to swallow the lump growing in his throat.

Marcel wrapped his arms around his lover, “Brock, honey, I’ve told you all these years that you’re the most beautiful, most amazing, most gorgeous and absolutely adorable beta I have ever fallen in love with. And you’re the only one. I’m not going to leave you because you’re not an omega, Besides, I can mark you as mine.” A smirk appeared on Marcel’s expression as he kissed Brock’s cheek.

Brock protested, “You can’t-”

“I can.” He placed his mouth on Brock’s neck and sucked like a vampire, placing a small bite to the mark and licking over it with a smirk, “I can mark you with hickeys.”

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11564010/chapters/26268816

2. Dawn breaks in Santa Fe, flinging sunlight against the adobe exteriors and red earth. Pathways of light trickle into the city, melting the newly fallen snow. The unseen coyotes have already retreated to their dens – tiny rock outcroppings hidden beneath the trees and bushes in the nearby desert. Meanwhile, metal lamps in central plaza have all but dimmed, leaving a faint beam of light in their center.

It’s Betty Cooper’s first day in Santa Fe and she’s beyond thrilled to be away from Austin. She told herself that what she needed was a fresh start away from the city, which no longer resembled itself anyways. An influx of people from California had moved in during the last five years or so. And that was fine. California was great. If she had wanted to be in California, she would have moved there. But Austin wasn’t meant to be California, ever. In recent years, it had grown much larger than she remembered it. She told herself that relocating was something everyone had to do eventually. She had just been lucky to do it in a matter of months, securing a coveted salaried-position, much to the chagrin of her peers. The job included benefits, paid vacation time, and thankfully, was far removed from her old residence.

Betty is in awe as she opens the window of her tiny Hacienda, which flings open with ease at the touch of her fingertips. She draws back its linen curtains, which are subtly decorated with a boxy pattern – either a Spanish style or Native American – Betty is unsure. The sunlight has painted a trail of red and yellow colors across the sky. Although the surrounding trees are laurel-like – some aspens, others cottonwood - the earth beneath them looks like rust and terracotta pottery dotted with the occasional wildflower.

Betty had arrived last night after sunset piling the last of her boxes in the corner of her new home, a Spanish-style Hacienda, from her car before midnight. Before opening the window, she was admiring the wooden bed that came with the place. It’s a king-size bed that appears to be made of what she can only assume is a very expensive wood – not acacia, no, it’s far too dark – the bed itself appears to be made of teakwood. It has all the appearance of a finely-carved antique; there are tiny floral etches against the headboard. The overall design look distinctly Navajo, but Betty remembers that she’s thinking of the wrong region, reminding herself they’re likely Pueblo-inspired, not Navajo. As if the bed wasn’t reminiscent enough of a medieval alcala, there’s a matching armoire and desk paired with it.

Betty goes for a run, returning to shower and grab a mug of coffee. She doesn’t have long before the first day of her new jobs starts. She’s going to attempt to explore her new surroundings while she can, not expecting to have as much free time when she does. Odds are she’ll be putting in, at a minimum, at least fifty hours a week.

She strolls leisurely through the town square, noting that the town looks like something out of a Southwestern spread. She can hardly believe that Santa Fe – the most charming city she thinks she’s ever seen - is her new abode. She decides that there is no better way to christen her new place than with a tall vase of wildflowers in the center of her new kitchen. So, she goes in search of some flowers and hopefully, a little adventure.

At the edge of the city she spots a warm, floral palette; there appears to be a blanket of marigolds and poppies spread across the terrain, just ahead of some rocky hills. As she continues walking, her feet tread the regional desert, touching the ground for the first time. As if to greet her, the earth beneath her marks the occasion by covering the edges of her tennis shoes with a rust-colored sheen. She continues onwards. As she reaches the flowers, though, she lets out an ‘eee’ and jumps back at the sight of a lizard. Unperturbed, she leans down to get a closer look at the flowers, picking one and thumbing the petals with her fingers.

Suddenly, Betty hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. Betty turns around, “Oh,” she stands up slowly, hand brushing her chest and grasping her silver necklace between her fingers, “You startled me.”

Betty’s eyes move up and down the stranger ahead of her, noting the contrast of his silhouette against the Santa Fe terrain. His hair is jet black, eyes crystal-blue, and his skin is pale with yellow undertones. Compared to the scorched earth underfoot, he looks like the moon. He reminds her of a wolf, she thinks, and his coloring looks like it was borrowed from the mountains up ahead. She decides he looks like he belongs here; from where he’s standing, the top of his head blends in with the snow-covered mountains and black trees in the distance, but his skin blends in with the background; he looks like he could disappear in it.

“You can’t pick those, you know.” He’s insistent, but polite.

Betty places a hand on her hip loosely, suppressing a grin, “And why not? What are you, king of the field?”

Jughead recognizes the jab at his crown-shaped beanie adorning his head, he’s amused. “No, but I used to do that and got chastised once by a native. He said that picking a wildflower in Santa Fe ‘angers the spirits’ in the land.”

“King of the field and a weaver of tall tales, are we? I don’t believe such rot. Well, I don’t think they’re going to miss a few flowers, anyways. “Unless,” Betty pauses, looks him dead in the eye and feigns a concerned tone, “You’re not going to call the poppy police, are you?”

He thinks she’s very pretty. Her sassy retort emboldens him to prod further.

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you around here before. This town isn’t that big. Everyone kind of knows everyone here.”

“Like I’d tell you that. You’re the one creeping up on me.”

“Creeping?” Jughead scoffs, “Hardly, I live about five minutes from here.”

“Oh,” Betty hesitates, then says rather tersely, “Well, if you don’t mind I’d like to continue enjoying my last few days of freedom before I start my new job.”

“So, you did just move here. I knew you were new.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did.”

“Where from? Or is that some big secret, too.” Jughead grinned, shoving his hands back into his jacket.

“Wouldn’t you like to know and are you always this rude?”

He grins. Noting her irritation, he offers his name as a consolation, “Jughead, my name is Jughead. Look, your obviously very busy so I’ll just let you be.”

“What?”

“It’s not my real name, obviously. But it’s what I go by.”

“Well, Jug-head, I’d like to spend the rest of my morning in peace. So, if you don’t mind…”

Jughead cuts her off gently, “Suit yourself, but this place can be confusing if you haven’t been here before. If you ever need directions or anything, I live up that hill. Jughead motions behind him, “My mailbox is blue.”

“Thank you.” Betty didn’t mean to dismiss him completely, she thought he was very handsome, but it had been awhile since she’d been on a date and she wasn’t about to let him know that.

Jughead smirked. He turned on his heels and walked off.

Betty mulled over what he had told her for a second. Since she had just moved here, it was nice to know where he lived if (she reasons) she he ever had questions about the area. She would consider looking him up in a few days. Maybe.