#glass door insert panels

[mind4everinthegutter]

Large in Vancouver Example of a large classic medium tone wood floor wine cellar design with display racks

[darkyulate]

Single Wall in Vancouver Example of a large, traditional, single-wall wet bar design with a medium-toned wood floor and recessed-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, granite counters, and glass sheet backsplash.

[tobiaslovesmydauntlesscake]

Home Bar - Single Wall Example of a large, traditional, single-wall wet bar design with a medium-toned wood floor and recessed-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, granite counters, and glass sheet backsplash.

[prettiedup]

angel face ୨ৎ

you met toji at a bar. you remember that setting very well, sometimes too well. when you’re bored, you’ll sit back and think about that very night. you had just turned 20 not too long ago, and your friends had finally got the fake ids they ordered months ago. with excited giggles, they handed the ids out. you’ll never forget how your heart thumped as you examined the little card that displayed lie after lie. you had never done something so illegal, something so sinister.

that night, you waited until your parents were sleeping. no, not just laying in bed and resting, but absolutely sleeping. their breathing turned heavy and their chests rose up and down slowly. their backs touched each other as if they had enough of each other, even while unconscious. with the knowledge that they were asleep, you made sure to close the luxurious door as quietly as possible. the door closed shut with a soft thud. you stood there for a second, holding your breath. you weren’t sure as to what you were waiting for, but you waited.

you counted to 60 in your head four times before solidifying that they were actually asleep. your eyes crinkle as a smile adorned your lips. with newfound enthusiasm, your feet that were comforted in white lace socks pitter patter against the prime grade wood flooring. you skip into your room and close and lock the door behind you.

you grab your phone that sits on top of your nightstand.11:20 it reads. you have exactly an hour and ten minutes to get ready. you’re quick to rush into your white marbled bathroom that had soft pink enhancements sprouted throughout the room.

the walls are adorned with large, glossy white marble tiles, reflecting light and creating an illusion of spaciousness. lowered chandeliers create soft, ambient lighting, casting a gentle modern glow over the room. the room's main feature is a gleaming white marble bathtub with simple, elegant lines and a large basin that invites you to have a relaxing dip. a peaceful waterfall faucet that cascades above it softly filling the tub with warm water whenever you feel the need to soak your stresses away.

you choose to use your stand-up shower, for this occasion. the shower is fully glass, exposing everything and more. two sides or large glass panels trap you on your sides to stop the water from escaping freely. as you turn the hot water on, both the overhead shower-head and the six miniature shower-heads come to life. you take off your pink silky robe, hanging it on the nook that’s nailed onto the wall beside your shower. you rub your body clean with soaps and exfoliators. the water plays a soft tune throughout the bathroom, the relaxing sound from the faucet merges with the sweet scents. it’s a precise routine that you do daily. scrubbing yourself until you’re absolutely sure your body is sparkling, and then stepping out of your shower with a pink fluffy towel around your body. a large white bathroom rug catches all of the spare droplets as you walk to your sink.

when you’re done with your skincare routine which includes not only your face but oiling your body down, you’re leaving your bathroom and walking into your walk-in closet. the automatic light sensors turn on, almost if it was awaiting your arrival. you choose a short light pink dress, and a pair of expensive shoes that match the shading. you gush over the cute bows that are etched onto the heel of the shoe.

time moves quickly. one minute you’re brushing your hair and inserting a clip on bow, and the next you’re quietly sneaking out through the back door. you walk to your friend’s white range rover that’s parked three houses down.

the rest of the night is moved in little blurs. you feel like you’re sitting inside of a cinema, watching a newly released movie. the bar is full of men. and not the guys you’re used to seeing around at these little college frat parties. no, these are men with tattoos, men with beards, mens with war battles littered on their body, men who are old enough to be your dad. as you look around, you suddenly feel childish in your outfit. the women in the bar wear crop tops and little shorts that have their ass cheeks hanging out. there’s a sense of maturity that courses through the bar, something the frat parties could never carry.

these are criminals, office men, police officers, businessmen. and suddenly there’s a throbbing in your lower region that you’ve never felt before. you’re looking around curiously as if the bar is some sort of museum that hold rare artifacts.

you look over at a table full of guys, their faces are littered with tired eyes and white beards. you accidentally make eye contact with one of the men and he winks before smirking and muttering something to his friends. they all snap their heads to you and your friends. some of them whistle while the others carry the same smirk. you should feel disgusted, guys that were possibly in the same classes with your dad, are making advances towards you. but instead the throbbing increases and a feeling of need courses through your body.

your friends make it to the bar and take your seats. a female bartender who looks to be in her mid 30s walks up to you four. she has overgrown blonde roots and various random tattoos littered all over her skin. her skin is obviously fake tanned, the exposed parts of her body are three shades darker than her head. her makeup is cakey and there’s dark eyeshadow around her eyes creating a lazily done smokey eye look. there’s a few facial piercings on her face as well. a dermal beside her eye, two dimple piercings, an eyebrow piercing, and when she opens her mouth to greet you all you can see the ball of a tongue piercing.

“what can i get for you ladies?” her voice is somewhat strained and gravelly. as she leans in, you can smell the lingering smell of cigarettes on her tongue.

“can i have eight shots of lemon drop, please.” your friend flashes the bartender a mischievous smile.

those shots were what got the night going. you were already very tipsy after your two shots and also a half glass of tequila. your friends had scattered around the bar, having conversations amongst themselves. you watch them, there’s envy burning in your stomach at how social they’re able to be so easily. you take it as competition. you sway your head to the side and your eyes land on a guy who’s sitting on the far end of the counter.

with the confidence you mustered, you walk up to him and sit in the wooden chair beside him. the chair creaks as you adjust yourself. sucking in a heavy breath, you smile at him.

“hi.” you greet him.

“’m not a perv. fuck off.” his response has you blinking rapidly in shock.

“uhm .. what? i’m-i’m of age!” you exclaim. you don’t know why you feel so offended at his words. most girls would’ve instantly stood up and walked away from his hostility, but if anything it strung you in even more.

“yeah, okay. and lemme guess, there’s pigs out there flyin’.” he chuckles but it’s forced, if anything.

“you, sir, are reaaaal hostile.” you drag the word out. the alcohol in your system is fumbling with your ability to talk normally.

“go away, little girl.” he dismisses you once again. he’s gripping his glass, with the muscles straining from his tight black shirt you wonder if he’s going to end up breaking it.

you have no idea as to why you’re so stuck on staying beside him and continuing to try. “i’ll have you know,” you emphasize, making sure the word rings through his head. “i can do everything you can do. vote, pay taxes, drive, all of that.”

“not drink, though.” he argues.

your eyebrows scrunch and suddenly you’re digging through your purse searching for that fake id. once your fingers grasp it, you’re pulling it out and slamming it on the polished wood.

“actually, i can.” you challenge. you’re sliding the card in front of him, all of your confidence powered into that one finger.

the guy goes quiet for a second, he’s reading your id. you cross your arms in victory. yeah, he doesn’t have much to say now.

or so you thought. “this shit’s faker than me claimin’ t’be a good father.” he says, his voice tinged with disgust. he slides the card back in front of you.

“okay. whatever. ‘m of age, though. okay? i’m 20 and if i’m not mistaken that’s grown.” you reply.

he finally turns, his entire body turns to look at you. lean and toned. he’s extremely built, with muscles everywhere. not to mention his waist, that’s so so slim. he’s wearing black jeans but you don’t even have to see his legs to know they match his arms. your eyes dart away his lower body to focus on his face. his face is rugged and masculine. he has sharp, angular features, including a strong jawline and high cheekbones. his green eyes are sharp and piercing as he stares down at you. you notice there’s an attractive scar that runs through his thin lips.

“‘nd is there a reason as t’why you keep botherin’ me, ms.twenty year old?” he asks sarcastically.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“g-gonna cum again!” you gasp. your head lays in the crook of his neck. he has one strong hand holding your head so even if you wanted to move it, you couldn’t. 

you had only had sex with one guy, ever. and he was more so on the skinnier side. you wouldn't shame him at all, he had managed to pull a few orgasms out of you. but this一this was different. he was stretching you out in ways that had your mind completely fucked. your pussy is stretched and wrapped tightly around his cock as if it was made for him and him only. 

your knees laid on both sides of his hips. you had started off riding him but he had quickly taken control when he realized how awkward you are when you’re on top. the way you stiffly jerked your hips would have resulted in absolutely no orgasms if he had let you continue. his feet were planted flat on the mattress  while his other arm was wrapped around your lower back so that he could have leverage as he plowed his cock into your dripping pussy. 

you could faintly hear the sound of police sirens through the thin motel walls. you had let the mystery man sway you to this cheap motel that looked as if it was infested with a little bit of everything. you remember the look on the receptionist’s face, a big man dressed in all black with a girl that’s inches shorter than him right beside him. they looked suspicious until you grabbed at the guy’s hand to lead him back outside once the two of you got a key.

“fuck are you so quiet for?” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts. before you could respond his big palm is striking down on your ass, sending multiple slaps. you whimper and jerk in his hold but he doesn’t let you move. “ungrateful thing. should i stop?”

“no!” you sob out. “please don’t stop.”

he rubs his hand over the spot he attacked before gripping your hip and fucking up into you even harder. the sound of his balls slapping against your skin and your pussy wetting his dick even more echoed through the room. the motel bed squeaks with every movement, like an old door protesting against being opened.

your senses whirl as he abruptly hurls you onto the side of the bed. your form plunges into the worn mattress, a musical of creaking springs accompanying your fall as you land on your stomach. everything moves fast as he’s suddenly behind you and pressing cock back inside of your awaiting pussy.

“arch your back.” he grumbles. he doesn’t give you time to move on your own before he’s grabbing your hips and adjusting them into the air. his sharp eyes take in your bruised pussy that’s clenching around nothing.

he lets his leaking cockhead rub against your pussy for a few moments. he shudders when his thick pre cum mixes with your arousal, creating a beautiful canvas. you’re whining and cooing out to him, he takes note of you growing impatient and taking it upon yourself to move your hips in desperate attempts that his dick would enter you.

“desperate girl.” he tuts before lining himself up and slamming his dick back inside of you.

you let out a deafening scream as your pussy streams out liquid. he quickly pulls out and rubs his length through the mess you’re creating.

"gooood girl. mhm cum all on m'dick. jus' like that." he coos at you. "gonna gimme some more? hm?" he asks while bracing his cock for your tight walls.

you whimper out something unintagible as you fix your arch once again. just the thought of him scolding you for not listening put a sense of uneasiness in your body. you wanted to continue being his good girl.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

nestled in a sea of soft, spiraling sheets and flat pillows, your soft breathing created a peaceful, rhythmic lullaby in the room. your chest's soft rise and fall resembled the waves' gentle rise and fall on a calm beach. your shape was nestled into the motel bed, which provided a false sense of haven from the outer world. toji gives your body a once over. he had really done a number on you. your body is littered with bites and bruises from him gripping you too hard. and somehow through all his negligence and however rough he was with you, you continued to moan and beg for more.

he told himself he was done with one night stands. god damnit. and then here you go walking into the bar with those needy ass doe eyes. he could smell the youthfulness on you. a twenty year old prissy girl with no true understanding of how ugly the world actually is.

toji exhaled while being lost in his own world as he stood outside the dimly illuminated motel room, wisps of smoke swirling around him. the light from his cigarette flickered with every breath, highlighting his face in the shadows.

he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good. having a fine thing begging for more of his cock, the way you gripped the sheets whenever the overstimulation got too much to deal with, your choked sobs as he brought you to a place you've probably never reached before. a smirk tugged on his lips. you made him feel young again, that's for sure.

he could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, it's possibly his boss who has found a shady job for toji to do. usually, he would've accepted in seconds but the thought of you halted him from doing so. this motel was located in a rather dangerous location and toji would feel like shit if he was listening to the news one day and found out some criminal got to you. he decides he'll walk you to a safer area before the two of you part ways.

his heart thumps hard in chest when he realizes this is the first and last time you two would ever do something like this. he enjoyed your smart replies and the fake confidence you put up at the bar. even more so, he enjoyed the size difference between you two. he dwarfs you in every way. he was practically throwing you around like some ragdoll and you took it. you took it all and that shit is fascinating to toji.

he tilts his head back, a cloud of smoke escapes through his mouth and into the air. that was一fun. he decides.

[queenstarlight2]

We meet again, with devious thoughts in our heads.

Yandere Thranduil and Elrond (2k) summary: Thranduil and Elrond make a plan to take what is theirs part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Elrond's private quarters were large and richly appointed, with tall ceilings and intricately carved wooden panels on the walls. The fireplace stood in the center of the room, with an oversized couch facing it, adorned with comfortable cushions and a plush rug on the floor. A heavy oak desk sat in the corner of the room, stacked high with paperwork and a few small trinkets. The room was lit with several oil lamps placed around, casting a warm, flickering light.

Elrond was already waiting for him in his private quarters when Thranduil arrived. He stood near the fireplace, a glass of wine in hand, as he turned to look at Thranduil with a serious expression on his face.

As Thanduil entered the room, he could feel the tension in the air, thick like a fog enveloping the room. Elrond was still standing by the fireplace, his eyes fixed upon Thanduil with a serious expression. Thanduil could feel a sense of irritation rising within him, though he tried to keep his cool and maintain a neutral expression. Elrond, too, could feel the undercurrent of tension, and he took a small sip of his wine, watching Thranduil with a calculated gaze.

"Come in, and close the door behind you," Elrond said, his voice quiet but firm. Thanduil did as he was instructed, closing the door with a click. He stood there for a moment, his eyes studying Elrond as he waited for him to speak first.

Elrond remained silent for a moment before finally speaking. "You know why I asked you here," he said, his voice low. "We need to discuss our arrangement and our plans for Star."

Thranduil let out a small sigh, his irritation beginning to show. "I'm aware of that," he said, his voice tight. "But I don't see why you had to interrupt my time with her."

Elrond's eyes flicked up to meet Thranduil's. "It wasn't my intention to interrupt your 'time' with her," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But you were getting a little too pushy, and I felt it necessary to intervene."

Thanduil bristled at the comment, his irritation rising. "Pushy? I was simply trying to get to know her better. You have no right to dictate how I interact with her."

Elrond took a step closer to Thranduil, his eyes narrowing. "And I have every right to intervene when I feel necessary. We both agreed to share her, remember?"

Thranduil clenched his jaw, his irritation becoming harder to control. "I do remember," he said through gritted teeth. "But that doesn't mean you have to step in every time I get close to her."

Elrond let out a small scoff. "It does when you start to get too possessive," he said, his voice sharp. "We have an agreement, and I expect you to respect it."

Thranduil couldn't contain his frustration any longer. "Respect?" he said, his voice rising. "Respect is a two-way street, Elrond. You can't just tell me to back off whenever it suits you."

Elrond's expression tightened, his irritation mirroring Thranduil's. "And you can't just waltz in and claim her as your own," he said, his voice hardening. "We both have an equal stake in her, and we both have to make sacrifices."

Thranduil's eyes flashed with anger. "Sacrifices? What sacrifices have you made?" he demanded. "You spend every waking moment with her, while I barely get a conversation with her without you inserting yourself."

Elrond's jaw clenched, his irritation matching Thranduil's. "Perhaps if you were more subtle in your approach, I wouldn't have to 'insert myself,'" he shot back. "You're too obvious, too pushy. You're going to scare her away if you're not careful."

Thranduil let out a scoff. "And what do you suggest? That I sit back and let you win her over completely?"

Elrond's expression hardened. "What I suggest is that you learn to control yourself and your emotions," he said, his voice firm. "We're supposed to be working together, remember? Not fighting over her like two cats in heat."

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh, his irritation slowly ebbing. "Fine," he said, his voice less vehement but still taut. "I'll try to be more subtle, but only if you promise to back off a bit as well. We need to find a balance here."

Elrond studied Thranduil for a moment, his expression becoming a bit more relaxed as he considered the proposal. After a long pause, he nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice softer. "I'll try to back off a bit if you do as well. But I hope you realize the importance of not scaring her away. We don't want to risk losing her entirely."

Thranduil's gaze shifted, his expression becoming more pensive as he considered their options. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice quieter this time.

"You know," he said, his tone measured. "There might be a... more drastic solution."

Elrond looked at Thranduil, his expression one of wary curiosity. "Go on," he said, gesturing for him to continue.

Thranduil's expression turned serious as he met Elrond's gaze. "What if we were to take her... by force, so to speak?" he said, his voice low. "She wouldn't be able to resist, and we could have her all to ourselves."

Elrond's eyes widened in surprise, his expression filled with a mix of shock and disbelief. "Kidnapping her? Are you serious?" he asked, his voice betraying his disbelief. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

Thranduil could feel his irritation rising at Elrond's reaction. "How else do you suggest we ensure her cooperation?" he asked, his voice tight. "She's not going to willingly come to us, not when she's constantly being pulled in two directions."

Elrond shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "I understand the need for her cooperation," he said, his voice firm but calmer now. "But kidnapping her is not the solution. We can't just force her to do what we want, and we can't risk harming her in the process."

Elrond thought for a moment, his expression becoming more pensive. "You're right," he said, his voice more thoughtful now. "I could slip a sleeping herb into her tea during our tea date tomorrow. It would be subtle enough that she wouldn't suspect anything, and I could ensure that the drug takes effect by the time she reaches your chambers."

Thranduil nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. "That could work," he said, his voice more confident now. "And as a healer, you'll know exactly what dosage to give her to ensure she's out long enough for us to get her here without any interruptions."

Elrond looked away for a moment, his expression becoming hesitant. "but I really don't like this," he said, his voice quiet. "She trusts me. I don't like the idea of drugging her without her consent."

Thranduil let out a scoff, his expression hardening. "It won't matter once she's in our arms," he said, his voice firm. "She'll be ours, and she'll have no choice but to accept it. We need to do whatever it takes to ensure that she stays with us."

Elrond let out a sigh, his expression wavering. He knew that Thranduil was right, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that came with the idea of drugging their unwilling guest. "I just hope this doesn't backfire on us," he said, his voice low.

Thranduil leaned back against the couch, trying to appear nonchalant. "Come on, Elrond," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You know it's for the best. We both want her, and this is the quickest and easiest way to ensure that we get what we want."

Thranduil leaned forward, his eyes intense as he spoke. "Imagine what it would be like," he said, his voice low. "Having her all to ourselves, at our mercy, unable to resist us. We could do whatever we wanted with her, make her completely ours."

Thranduil continued, his voice growing even more persuasive and seductive. "And think of all the things we could do to her," he said, his eyes dark and intent. "We could lavish her with attention and pleasure, show her that we're the ones she truly desires. She would be a quivering mess in our arms, begging for more."

Elrond's expression remained neutral, but there was a hint of a flush on his cheeks as he listened to Thranduil words. He tried to hide it, but he could feel a stirring of desire and excitement within him at the thought of having her completely at their mercy.

Thranduil noticed the shift in Elrond's demeanor, and he leaned forward, his eyes fixed upon him. "I know you want her, Elrond," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. "You can't deny it. I see the way you look at her, the way your eyes follow her every move. You want her just as badly as I do, and you know it's only a matter of time until you give in."

Elrond closed his eyes, trying to resist the lure of Thranduil words. But the heat in his stomach was growing stronger, and his mind kept conjuring up images of her in their arms, submitting to their will. He knew it was wrong, but the idea was becoming harder and harder to discard.

Thranduil sensed Elrond's weakening resistance, and he took advantage of the opportunity. He moved even closer, his body almost touching Elrond's. "Just think of how good it will feel to have her in our arms," he whispered, his voice silky and persuasive.

"To know that she's all ours, to do with as we please. You know you want it, Elrond. Just give in to your desires."

Elrond let out a shaky breath, his resolve crumbling under the onslaught of Thranduil words and touch. He closed his eyes and whispered, his voice rough with desire, "I want her. I want her just as badly as you do."

A satisfied smile spread across Thranduil's face, and he let out a small, victorious chuckle. He knew he had won, and he knew Elrond would not back down now. He moved closer, his hand gripping Elrond's thigh a little bit tighter. "Good," he said, his voice smooth and low. "Then we're agreed. We'll give her the sleeping herb tomorrow, and we'll bring her here to our chambers. And then, she'll be ours."

Thranduil nodded in agreement, his expression determined and filled with desire. "Agreed," he said, his voice low and firm. "We'll make her ours tomorrow. And then, we'll have the pleasure of seeing her submit to us, body and soul."

Elrond's heart was racing, his body tense with a mixture of excitement and guilt. He knew they were making a terrible decision, but the allure of Star was too strong to resist. He nodded in agreement, his voice quiet. "Agreed," he echoed. "Tomorrow, she'll be ours."

Thranduil rose from the couch, his expression satisfied and confident. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then," he said, his voice smooth. "We'll reconvene tomorrow after your tea date with her. And then, we'll set our plan into motion."

Elrond watched Thanduil leave, his mind still reeling with a mixture of emotions. He knew he should feel guilty, but the desire that coursed through him was too strong to ignore. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and prepare for what was to come.

(I'm about to wrap up this series in the next two/one chapters ;3. I'm getting a bit bored and i wasn't prepared to make it a proper series so there are gaps lol and it annoys me )

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Another List of Art-Related Vocabulary

Portrait: A painting, photograph, sculpture, or other artistic representation of a person or group of people that emphasizes the likeness of the subject, especially the face and its expressions.

Preparatory drawing: A full-sized drawing used by an artist to plan the design of an artwork before beginning the actual artwork. The work may be an easel painting, fresco, stained glass window, sculpture, or other object.

Relief: A sculptural composition that stands out from a flat surface, called a plane of relief, in a carved or molded work of art. There are varying degrees of relief—low, middle, and high—depending on the amount of projection from the sculptural surface.

Self-portrait: A pictorial or literary portrait of oneself, created by the artist or author.

Site plan: A technical drawing for the development and intended use of a particular piece of land.

Socle [SOCK-el]: Base or pedestal supporting a column, vase, or statue.

Space: The area between and around objects. The space around objects is often called negative space. Space can also refer to the feeling or illusion of depth.

Squared: A method for transferring a drawing to another, usually larger, surface. Both surfaces are first ruled off into an equal number of squares. The lines within each square are then transferred freehand to the larger, corresponding squares.

Stele [STEEL-lee]: An upright stone slab or pillar that displays an inscription or design and serves as a monument, marker, or commemorative tablet.

Stereograph: A pair of photographs made from two slightly different points of view. When inserted into an instrument called a stereoscope, the images produce a three-dimensional effect.

Stump: A coil of leather, felt, or paper with blunt points at both ends, used for rubbing on chalk, pencil, pastel, and charcoal drawings in order to produce a softer appearance.

Symbol: Something used for or regarded as representing something else; a material object representing something, often something immaterial; an emblem, token, or sign. The practice of representing things by symbols or of investing objects with a symbolic meaning or character is called symbolism.

Tableau: Short for the French term tableau vivant (living picture), this term refers to a group of people arranged as if in a work of art.

Terracotta: Italian for “baked earth.” This term is used to describe objects created out of reddish brown clay fired at a low temperature and left unglazed. Terracotta is used to make pottery, sculpture, architectural decorations, and tiles.

Transfer: The process of transmitting a design from one surface to another.

Veneer: A decorative technique/process in which slender slices of wood or other suitable material are attached onto other pieces of wood, particleboard, or fiberboard panels to produce decorative doors, tops, and panels for cabinets, parquet floors, and other furniture parts.

Wash: A diluted watercolor or ink applied with a brush to a paper surface in a thin, transparent layer. The term usually refers to a uniform area of transparent color covered quickly with a broad brush.

Source ⚜ More: Art Vocabulary pt. 1 2 3 ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[itsbubbleteataro]

Gun Powder and Sparks pt 2

It was maybe three months after Boothill had payed you a visit, and you had given up hope on ever seeing a dime from him. Your shop lay closed today as you wanted to work on a special project of yours. Today you were testing out to see if the circuits all worked they way you needed them too.

Your goggles over your eyes held firm as you stared to carefully insert the crystal he had dropped off when the door to the shop flew open. With a groan you set the gem down, your concentration shattered. Sliding back in your chair you took off your goggles, facing the intruder with a rather unamused look on your face.

In the doorway stood Boothill, his grin as sharp and pointy as usual. You crossed your arms, rather unamused by his whole entrance.

"Shop's closed" You practically sneered. "You better have my payment." You stuck out one hand.

Boothill's boots clicked against the shop floor as he placed credits in your hand. "I got more if yer willing to open up shop for me" He tilted his head and took off his hat, tossing it on your table.

"You just now payed me for the work I did three months ago, why in the name of the aeons would I work with you again?" You raised a brow.

"Well cuz you're the only person I'll go to repairs, annnd, I actually have credit this time" He placed one hand on his hip. "I wanna know more about ya too, ain't see many of ya around."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You got up from your seat, defensive.

"Well y/n it means I ain't see many others from a farming planet like mine. Now are ya gonna do the repairs or not? I'm overheating here" He complained.

"Over heating? Like your fan's are starting to break down or.. oh never mind" You shook your head and sighed as your curiosity got the better of you. You heard Boothill plop down on your chair with a satisficed grunt as you cleared off space on your desk, unaware that Boothill had his eyes on what you were doing with the energy crystal he had given you.

"okay" You pulled open a few drawers. "Now where are your fans located? Do you have multiple in several parts or are they all located in one because that could be the issu-" Boothill cut you off, the sound of a compartment hissing and opening grabbing your attention. You turned around to see him fanning himself with his hat, the panels of his chest wide open. You got closer, gently poking and prodding and getting a closer look.

You touched one of the fans, your brow furrowing. "Holy hell fires Boothill, I have questions. How in the world are you not short circting from all this heat, second how in the ever loving hell did your fans get so dirty?! I have to take them out to clean them." You walked over to a small sliver tube, pressing on the top before a holographic pc display came up.

As you typed away Boothill answered your questions. "Well, to be frank I ain't got a fudgin clue. I guess it just has been a while since I've had my hard-er, software?" he guessed.

"hardware" you corrected

"hardware looked at" Boothill shrugged. You sighed as you ordred a few parts and pressed the button again, the hologram dissapearing.

"Alright how long will you be in town for?"

"How ever long it takes to get fixed back up" Replied Boothill.

"Noted, works out in my favor." You replied, going through a drawer. Once again you pulled on your fingerless glove with the small pockets. You walked up, stuck your face as close as you could get, before nodding and mumbling to yourself and going back to your drawer. You missed the way the cowboy looked at your face, then looked away again.

You came back, glove full of tools and a head worn light and magnifying glass. You got on your knees, head up close to his open chest panels. Boothill swore he got hotter as you stared to work.

"How do ya even stand this here heat?" Boothill asked, looking away but curious.

"Simple really, ain't nothing compared to what it was like back home on Enbar." You explained, taking out one of his fans and cleaning it gently. He looked down at you again, a bit of red dusting his cheeks, something the both of you chalked up to the heat of having one of his fans removed, not the compromising position you were currently in.

You cleaned his fans, put him back together and shut his chest panels. You cleared your throat.

"Stay for a week, I got parts commin in for ya cowboy."

"Now the fork would you order parts for me?" He asked confused, "And why ain't you callin me by my name?"

"Well you ain't a dead cowboy, sure your mostly metal, but your still kicken'" You explained. "And extra fans so ya ain't gotta' come back to me overheatin' again."

Boothill tipped his hat. "Tell me more about Enbar when I'm back?" He dropped payment on your work table. You nodded and shooed the cyborg cowboy out of your workshop.

The week when he came back, you added some fans to his back. He was laying on your work table, something you were surprised that you both could hold his weight and that you even had enough space for him as he was quite the tall man.

His back panels were open and you had brought in a pillow for his head. He laid still so you could work without issue.

"say, y/n" Started Boothill. "Tell me more about Enbar?"

You sighed and obliged him as you worked. "Enbar, long gone by now. Stellaron disaster. Hot planet, heard it been compared to hell its self before. Hot, dry, mostly farm and cattle land. Home to few tradesmen out of nessicity." You stared. "Land rollin as far as the eye could see" You looked at Boothill, making sure he was okay, only to see a faraway look in his eyes, you knew his home was something similar. You turned back to your work.

"Ma was a ranch hand, pa was a tradesmen. One day Ma wanted to leave, got on this giant train with people who called themselves nameless. Pa and I stayed behind, took after the trade with my Pa"

You stopped talking, not wanting to say anymore as Boothill nodded his head. The two of you worked in silence, you just focused, and him going over how similar your planets were, yet also how different they were. It was something to him, seemed like looking into a mirror, just at a different angle. The upbringing was similar, yet so very different.

A few hours later, you woke the cowboy up who had managed to drift off to sleep while you were working to tell him repairs and fan installation was done.

"Thanks again y/n" He tossed payment on the table and tipped his hat. "Till next time yeah?"

"Sure space cowboy"

He smirked his dangerous toothy grin and waved walking out the door.

[akairawrites]

THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN READER INSERT | pt1

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Upon entering Oscorp, a woman's voice greeted you from an electronic screen, her words echoing through the sleek corridors. The futuristic building enveloped you in an ambiance of innovation and sophistication. The polished marble floor beneath your feet mirrored the gleam of the overhead lights, while shimmering glass panels adorned the walls, casting a subtle touch of tranquility into the bustling atmosphere.

Lost in the beauty of the surroundings, you fell behind for a moment until Mr. Ratha's voice brought you back to attention, urging you to catch up as you followed him into the elevator. The descent was quiet, with only the soft hum of machinery breaking the silence, until the doors opened and revealed the busy Oscorp lab.

Walking out next to Mr. Ratha, you noticed an older gentleman. When his name was mentioned, he turned around. He had tousled blonde hair and glasses perched on his nose. He was wearing a pristine lab coat, and his presence demanded respect. However, what briefly caught your attention was his amputated arm. You quickly averted your eyes.

"Y/n, meet Dr. Curtis Conners," Mr. Ratha introduced, initiating the exchange.

Dr. Conners extended his hand with a warm smile, his Australian accent betraying his roots as he welcomed you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you. You must be the high school intern," he remarked assertively, his tone inviting and genial.

Accepting his handshake, you replied, "Yes, I am. The pleasure is all mine, Docter."

"Please, no formalities. Conners is fine," he insisted, his demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

As Mr, Ratha excused himself Dr. Conners turned his attention back to you, offering, "Shall I give you a tour?"

After several hours of exploration, you both come across a secure door that piques your interest. "What's in there?" you ask as you watch two men in hazmat suits exit the room.

He gestured towards the area where you had nodded. "That is where we breed various species of spiders for cross-species genetics. It's very top secret," he said, winking and holding his fingers to his lips.

You chuckled and nodded, showing him that you understood as you walked by the secured door. Unnoticed, a spider slipped through the crack as the door closed. Catching a ride on your shoe as the two of you walked by.

Upon reaching Dr. Conners's office, he turned to you with his usual smile and said, "That concludes our tour today. You are welcome to take your time to look around and make yourself at home, or you can head out. Either way, make sure to be here bright and early tomorrow."

Your mouth opened to speak, but as soon as you did, a sudden sharp pain jolted through your right heel, eliciting a reflexive grunt as you instinctively swatted at the source with the tip of your left shoe. "Are you alright?" Dr. Conners asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reassured him, trying to downplay the incident as you brushed off the discomfort. "Um...I think I'm going to call it a night, Dr. Conners. Goodnight, and thank you for today," you said softly as you reached for your bag resting on the small chair in his office, and made your way out.

"Goodnight," he simply said as he watched you leave his office.

You walked down the dimly lit corridor, feeling a persistent pain in your heel. The sharp sting was now a dull throb. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but you dismissed it as tiredness from the long day. Unbeknownst to you, a spider had nestled in the small fold of your sock.

The evening air was cool and refreshing as you stepped outside the building, a welcome contrast to the sterile environment inside. You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The city twinkled in the distance, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

As you arrived home, you eagerly announced "I'm home!" upon entering the living area. There, you noticed your mother lying comfortably on the couch, her face softly illuminated by the glow of the TV. You let out a gentle sigh and reached for the cozy blanket resting on the La-Z-Boy. Carefully, you draped it across her body. Then you headed up to your room.

Once you sat on your bed, feeling the itch from the bite, your hand absentmindedly scratched at it. Suddenly, a spider crawled out, and when you noticed it, you jumped a bit before quickly stomping on it without thinking much of it. After glancing at the clock, you realized how late it was. Exhausted, you decided to head to bed early.

As you slept, strange dreams haunted your subconscious. Vivid images of webs and crawling insects filled your mind, leaving you restless. You tossed and turned, the discomfort in your heel now a faint, distant memory compared to the odd sensations you felt coursing through your body.

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Part 2

[maccreadysbaby]

OPERATION: ULTRAVIOLET

alex rider + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

and the truth comes out! kai takes it about as well as we all thought poor dude

part four

❝ MI6 ❞

WEDNESDAY — MAY 4, 2001 — 2:13AM

THE NEXT PLACE KAI FOUND HIMSELF, WAS THE BACK OF A CIA VEHICLE, THEN HIS FATHER'S OFFICE IN MIAMI.

He'd never seen where his father worked before. The building was unlike anything he'd ever seen -- it looked like something out of a movie. It was tall and white, with sharp lines and what had to be hundreds of windows that reflected the Miami skyline and didn't give a single hint about what lay inside.

He was led into the building by a CIA man who never spoke. He looked... well, not like CIA men on TV with their perfectly pressed suits and sunglasses. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with greasy, slicked back hair and a toothpick that never left his lips. Kai guessed he was trying to fit in with the rest of the people in Miami, which made sense if he wanted to be covert. (Why didn't they do that in movies?)

To Kai's surprise, when they walked into the building, they were greeted by... a coffee bar. A nice, modern one, with wood paneling and sleek lights, filled with bustling baristas and people chatting or talking on their phones. Which was not at all what Kai expected.

The CIA man didn't seem phased. He merely walked Kai through to an elevator, where they ascended to the tenth floor.

The doors slid open to a large lobby, with one big, curving desk that had two women behind it, working on computers and talking on the phone. There was a large, backlit sign on the wall behind them that read: CENTURION INTERNATIONAL ADVERTISING.

CIA. How very clever of them.

"Here for Byrne," The man with the toothpick said. The girls looked at him for a moment, entering something on their keyboards. One of them gave Kai a particularly long stare.

Kai wondered what they were thinking, seeing him like that. Of course, none of them knew who he was; he was just a kid turning up with an agent with blood all over his face, dirt all over his clothes, zip-ties on his ankles and no shoes. Did everyone know a child was coming to the office? Had his father briefed them? Or was he a rogue variable that was now freaking out the receptionists?

"I'll take it from here, thanks,"

Kai glanced off to the side when a familiar voice came. A figure moved out from an adjacent hallway.

It was Joe Byrne, his stepfather. He was taller than Kai, but not by much, and his skin was dark as midnight -- another thing that helped their case if people looked into familial relations. He had a ring of white hair on top of his head and a white mustache, his eyes a deep brown, scanning Kai's frame from top to bottom.

Part of Kai wanted to start crying; as a child did when seeing their parents after something traumatic. But the other part of him -- the part that had been trained in secrecy for as long as he could remember -- forced him to stay completely still, and completely blank, looking at his father as though he'd never seen him before in his life.

The agent that had brought him in turned and went back into the elevator, disappearing behind the sliding doors, and Joe Byrne turned back down the hallway. "This way."

Kai followed him without much protest, his eyes lingering on the receptionists as he passed them, working diligently at their posts. Did the CIA really use receptionists like that? Taking calls and sending emails and booking appointments? Or were they just a front incase someone walked in looking for the Advertising company? Did the advertising company even exist, or was it a ghost, too? Like Kai was?

He followed his father down a bare hallway, and through some sort of tube-looking metal detector that closed around him and then let him out again. Then the bare hallway continued back until they turned into a large office with a frosted glass door and the name: J.R. Byrne on the front.

It was much like his office at home. A large, one-way, single panel window behind a big mahogany desk. Bookshelves and wood-paneled filing cabinets lined the walls, and a large rug outlining the desk and three chairs lay spread across the floor; one chair was on the window side of the desk, two sat opposite it.

Joe Byrne closed and locked the door behind them. Kai reached for his arm as he passed, but the man didn't even seem to notice. He simply headed over to his desk, took a seat, and left Kai hanging and confused.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened," Was the first thing he said. No hi, no are you okay, no do you need anything?

Kai exhaled heavily and took a hesitant seat in one of the chairs across from his father. "I'm… fine, by the way."

Joe Byrne sighed heavily, running a few fingers over his brows. "We don't have time for this, Kai. This is a very severe security breach and I need you to work with me so we can get it closed up before more damage is done. The longer you stay here, the more questions will be asked, the more suspicious you become."

Kai stared at him, dumbfounded. He didn't see his stepfather very much, maybe once every two months, maybe. But when he did, the man usually stayed the night at the penthouse, had dinner with them, and played games with Kai and Lionel until far too late. He laughed and smiled and said extravagant hellos and even more dramatic goodbyes. This... wasn't that Joe Byrne.

This was CIA Joe Byrne. A cold, over-stressed, overworked Joe Byrne that turned off his personal life like a light switch. Kai had never seen that part of him before, and he wasn't sure he liked it very much.

"Dad," He tried, hoping that maybe he could spark just a little of his less concrete-solid side. "I just got kidnapped."

"Malachi," His stepfather breathed, the stress of the whole thing making him look a bit older than he normally did. "I need you to tell me everything that happened tonight."

With a strange, empty feeling settling in his gut -- because he was sitting in front of a man who looked so much like his father but wasn't, at least not right now -- Kai relented.

And he told him everything. Starting with the phone call that he never heard the other end of, going through the fight in the penthouse, the abuse in the bungalow, and his frantic escape. His father was typing on his computer the whole time, maybe taking scarce notes. Kai told him about Sergeant Wilhelm, and about the younger man that was afraid, and the couple whose house he’d busted into begging to use the phone. He didn't leave out any details -- because the CIA would probably figure them out anyways.

“We got recordings of the phone call,” Was the first thing Joe Byrne said after Kai had finished. How they’d gotten the recording so quickly, he would never know. “It was a simple one-line order: You’re going to give us the boy. Lionel was going to shut you in your room with the panic button right after, but he didn’t have the time.”

"Lionel. Where is he? Is he okay?" Kai asked hurriedly, leaning up toward the desk. Joe Byrne merely held up a hand in a dismissive sort of way that did nothing more than irritate him.

“Lionel is fine. Not much physical damage, like you,” He explained. His voice was cool, calculating. “We’ll probably have to speak to that couple at the next-door bungalow again. Find a way to keep them quiet about you. We had Wilhelm and his accomplice brought in, so they won't be an issue anymore."

Kai nodded slightly, sliding further down into his chair.

"But..." His stepfather sighed a long, deep sigh. "There's always the issue of who else knows."

Kai blinked, creasing his brows. "You think other people know about me?"

"We can't be sure. But we also can't write it off," His stepfather said, typing a few things on his computer. "Wilhelm may have only told his son -- that was the young man that was working with him. But it's possible he could have told many people. Maybe he had backup. Maybe he told his whole family. We can't be sure if your name is in circulation or not."

"So..." Kai breathed, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. "What do we do?"

"You can't go back to the penthouse," Joe Byrne said seriously, shaking his head, typing on the computer. "In fact, every piece of real estate with my name, or a name in close relation to mine, is no longer a safe location for you."

"What?" Kai ordered, flicking his hands outward. "Where else am I supposed to go? I've been there my entire life!"

"I know. But after what you just went through, it's simply out of the question."

The teenager huffed, sitting back even further in his chair. He knew his stepfather was just being safe, but their penthouse had been built like a fallout shelter, for his safety, and he wasn't allowed to go back? He'd been raised there, since a baby, and he was, what? Never going to go there again?

“What about Lionel?”

“He won’t be staying there either. He’ll be going with you -- I trust him wholeheartedly. He was smart; he locked himself in your room to make a call to us,” His stepfather sighed. “If he hadn’t, Wilhelm would’ve killed him.”

“Is he still shut in there?”

“No,” Joe Byrne said. “I sent someone to get him out.”

“You told someone how to open the door?” Kai asked, miffed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “You told someone how to open the secret room in the penthouse, and you let some rando agent come pick me up and bring me here in a sketchy black car. For a guy so hellbent on security, you sure seem to enjoy handing out confidential information like candy.”

“The agent who brought you here has no idea who you are. And the agents at the penthouse don’t know you exist,” His stepfather said with a huff. “On our end, your name is as confidential as it gets.”

“Why couldn’t you come pick me up yourself? You wouldn’t have had to get other people involved,” Kai suggested.

“I had important things to attend to,”

“More important things than me?”

“Malachi,” Joe Byrne said, exasperated, his dark eyes searching the teenager’s face. “I was distributing agents to take care of you. I don’t work in the field.”

Kai scoffed, looking down at his lap and fiddling with the bottom hem of his t-shirt. Something like hurt ripped through him. His father wouldn’t even come onto the field for his own son?

Kai sighed. “I like the other you better.”

“What?” Joe asked, incredulously.

“I asked where I’m going now,” The teenager lied, knowing good and well his father had heard his previous statement and deciding to let it hang in the air. 

His stepfather stared at him for a few moments too long, a slightly irritated look on his face, before he relented and exhaled. “Well, Kai… I think it might be safest for you to leave the country entirely.”

Kai’s mouth fell open in an instant, and he froze, his eyes flicking up to his father suddenly. “What?” 

“I know, I know,” Joe Byrne started. He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a file, stamped with red ink across the front that Kai didn’t focus enough to read. “I have something I want to share with you, Kai. I know you heard that I fired Sergeant Wilhelm.”

“Okay?” Kai pressed. 

“There’s a reason your training is ending so soon,” He said, sliding the file across the table to him. It had two strings of words stamped across the front: OPERATION: ULTRAVIOLET, and TOP SECRET.

Kai merely jabbed a finger at it. “What’s this?”

Joe Byrne sighed deeply, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the table. “Kai, your training has always, always been to prioritize your safety. You being able to defend yourself in situations like what happened tonight is the most important thing I’ve ever taught you.”

“The most important thing Lionel ever taught me,” Kai mumbled under his breath.

Joe Byrne ignored him. “But your training was preparing you for something else, too.”

Kai looked up at him, scanning his grizzled features with curious eyes. “Something else?”

“Well… it has always been my hopes that, one day, you would work for me,”

Kai just stared at his stepfather, face blank, completely speechless. For five seconds, then ten. “You mean… for the CIA?”

“A field agent,” Joe Byrne nodded. “A spy. It’s all in that file.”

So, it was never really about his safety? About his protection, but about his father’s work? He wasn’t being trained because his father cared about him, but because he cared about his own job?

“No,” Kai ordered, shoving the file away. “I want to hear it from your face. You’ve been training me, my entire life, to be in the CIA? Without telling me?” 

If he was only doing it for his own job, did Joe Byrne care about him at all?

“Kai,”

“What is it, when my parents died you looked at me and instead of seeing your future child, you saw your job?!”

“Malachi, stop being so childish!” Joe Byrne ordered loudly, and Kai huffed, sinking further down in his seat and opening and closing his mouth a few times. Nothing ever came out. “The world that I am a part of isn’t always clear. There's no black, and there’s no white -- only gray. You’re either in or out. I never wanted to live a double life in front of you. I didn’t want to switch from the white to the grey, from father to agent. I always knew that, as soon as I could, I wanted you in the gray with me.”

Kai huffed loudly. “You failed. The whole don’t want to live a double life thing. You failed.”

“I know,” Joe nodded. “But there was no other way.”

“Telling your own son the truth may have been a good place to start,”

“I’m telling you now,” His stepfather said, nudging the file back toward him. “It’s all in there. The CIA’s plan to create an agent who’s untouchable. Unreachable. Invisible. Ultraviolet.”

“A minor,” Kai stated simply, not even bringing his eyes up from his hands.

“Yes,” His father replied. “Children can go places adults can’t. They can get out of situations adults never could. They can be untouchable.”

“Why me?” Kai questioned, picking at his fingernails for no apparent reason. “Why not someone else?”

“Because I could get you in the gray that way,” His father stated simply. “We could be in the same world.”

Kai looked down at his feet, whispering: “What if I don’t want to be in the same world?”

Joe Byrne said nothing.

Then he sighed. “I planned to propose the idea to you in the morning over a surprise breakfast, but it seems our plans got… shuffled. I have a first operation in mind for you that will be kicking off in a week, maybe less.”

“No,” Kai shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do it.”

“It will get you out of the country, and into a safe place,” Joe Byrne continued. “You already showed me you can handle yourself in intense situations.”

Kai looked down at his hands that were starting to shake again from the stress, the shock, the anger. “No. I want to stay here with you.”

“Staying here with me might just be the most dangerous place of them all,” His stepfather sighed, running a hand over his face. “There is another young agent. Fourteen, like you, working for British Intelligence; MI6. He’s going to go with you. His name is Alex Rider-”

“No!” Kai ordered loudly. “No, I’m not doing it. I just want to go somewhere safe, with Lionel, and I want to stay there, and I never want to see your face again.”

“I’m not asking you, Malachi!” Joe Byrne shouted, slapping one hand down on the desk to emphasize the word asking. Kai merely stared at him, his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. “The operation is investigating a summer camp in the Australian outback. Our friends in the UK are expecting you and you are going.”

His father produced another file from his drawer. On the front, it said: Alex Rider. He laid it atop the Operation: Ultraviolet file, and then grabbed another. This one had no name, but Kai assumed it was about whatever they thought was going on in Australia.

“Take them and go back to the lobby. Lionel is coming to get you. You’re flying out to London at eight -- MI6 will brief you there,” Joe Byrne ordered. “Good luck.”

Kai stared at him. “Dad…”

“Good luck, agent,” He said, sharper. “Dismissed.”

“Dad!”

“Dismissed!”

Kai stared into Joe Byrne’s dark brown eyes for a few moments more, but he never recognized them.

He rose from his chair with purposeful attitude, making the thing squeak onto the hardwood with a harsh noise. Kai swiped up the files and turned for the door. “I hate you.”

“What did you just say?” His father demanded, softly.

Kai didn’t even look back at him. He swung the door open and stepped out. “You heard me.”

And he closed the door behind him.

Maybe he wouldn’t have left that as the last thing he said to his father… if he’d have known what was going to happen in Australia.

—

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[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 3)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

Pulling along her suitcase, Riley followed Maxwell to the front doors of the palace. Maxwell nodded in acknowledgement to the officers of the King’s Guard dressed in their black uniforms as they opened the doors for them.

The coffered ceilings of the castle were much higher than she imagined they could be with beams laid in a grid which created a pattern of recessed squares. There were rooms leading to sitting areas that had furniture and objects fancier than she had ever seen with plush velvet couches, dainty bouquets in vases, intricate gold and glass centrepieces, and sparkling crystal chandeliers.

“I thought the outside was amazing on its own, but being inside…” Riley wondered aloud, her head swivelling around as she lost her trail of thought.

It was only until she entered the palace where she realized how different her world was from Liam’s. He had grown up here, learned to follow his father’s footsteps as a prince, met all kinds of nobles, and possibly brought fancy socialites home after dates. This was his childhood home; his whole world seemed to embody glamour and prestige.

She, on the other hand, had grown up in a cramped but cozy apartment with her mother and father. It wasn’t much, but the love her parents had for her and each other was more than what most people were lucky to have. With her American upbringing, her Korean mother’s roots, and her father’s Filipino culture, she was grateful for the homes she would forever have in the U.S., the Philippines, and South Korea.

They showered her with love and reassurance, frequently reminding her that family was the most important thing to cherish that motivates and grounds you at the same time. She never felt like she had lacked anything in her life, not when she had the most loving, supportive parents anyone could have.

At least that’s what it felt like before she lost the two people she loved the most in her life. But that was a story for another time, one for where there was less pressure and anticipation facing some of the most important people in Codonia.

A small piece of doubt began to spring up once again in her mind. Based on her appearance alone, it was clear that she was not from Cordonia, much less part of the country’s nobility or highly-respected citizens. She didn’t want to let Maxwell and his brother down from her upcoming representation of their house.

But in a split second, as she’d done everyday since they were no longer in her life, she heard her parents’ words in her mind saying, One day at a time.

“It’s like a whole other world, huh? Don’t worry, you have tons of time to roam and explore and get used to it,” Maxwell reassured her, as he followed her gaze landing on all lighting and fixtures. “After all, you’ll be here for the next few months of the social season.”

They made their way to the grand staircase with gold handrails decorated with artistic panel inserts of flowing swirls. A large velvet red carpet regally covered the steps leading up to the top platform where it separated into two staircases that led to the left and left wings of the castle.

“So, what’s the deal with Drake? Why is he… so jaded?” Riley questioned, fixating on the elegant staircase she had only ever really seen replicas of in movies. Seeing all the luxury decorations and furniture reminded her of Drake's annoyance with her fascination with all the new sights she was seeing. “Is he always like that?”

“I can get that for you,” Maxwell offered, implying Riley’s suitcase as she willingly handed it to him. He lifted it up as they climbed the staircase together, before answering her question, “Oh, don’t mind him. Drake’s never really… fit in. He doesn’t like court as much as others love being part of it.”

“Not used to courtly life?” Riley suggested, glancing at Maxwell for confirmation.

“Definitely not. Technically, he’s a commoner. He grew up here at court with us, but he’s… always been an outsider here in a way. Even if he is Liam’s best friend,” Maxwell responded, even though it was something he wondered himself as well.

With a nod, Riley pondered his answer. It made sense why he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb compared to Liam and the others, although it didn’t seem plausible that someone would choose to stay in a place where they would only be somewhat excluded.

She questioned, “But if he’s not fond of spending time with royals and nobles, is there a reason why he tries to tolerate it so much? Besides being there for Liam, I’m guessing.”

“Beats me,” Maxwell responded, shrugging his shoulders. “Sometimes it’s hard to know what he’s thinking. He’s pretty much known for being mysterious and antisocial to almost everyone, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

At the top of the stairs, Maxwell and Riley turned down one of the many elegant corridors of the castle. The ivory marble floors were decorated with intricate designs of mosaic art and sophisticated medallions. A gleaming chandelier glistened from the sunlight peering into the hall through the arched glass windows. The gold accents on the walls brought out the pastel blue that brightened up the space.

“Your room’s here in the west wing. In case you need anything from me or my brother, our rooms are just a couple rooms away,” Maxwell informed her, as the two of them walked past several large wooden arched doors.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. For some reason, Maxwell struck her more as an only child with his keenness for adventure and love for the spotlight. She wondered if his brother was as easy-going and laid-back as he was. Riley curiously commented, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah, an older brother. His official title is Duke Bertrand Beaumont. As the eldest son, he’s the heir and I’m the spare. You’ll see him tonight. He’ll be excited to meet you,” Maxwell answered with a smile, although his last sentence had a hint of uncertainty that Riley hadn’t noticed. He already had a slight idea on how his brother would react, and well... let’s just say they would have to brace themselves.

Maxwell stopped short in front of a magnificently ornate door with the dark wood accentuating the designs. As Riley stood beside him, he turned the doorknob. Oh, boy. If this didn’t get her even more excited than he was about solving House Beaumont’s problem of not having a suitor, he would run down the corridor and do three cartwheels in a row.

“This is it… Here’s your room!” Maxwell revealed, with a giddy edge to his voice.

Riley entered a lavish guest room with a gold and dark magenta palette accompanying full-length paintings and gilded ceilings. Two end tables with beige and gold accents to the solid wood foundation were placed on both sides of the queen bed with understated white lamps on top of them. A shiny gold candle chandelier hung daintily above Maxwell and Riley, where they stood underneath it beside the bed with silky cream sheets and dark fuchsia pillows matching the ottoman nearby.

“Wow…” was all Riley could muster, as her neck craned high and low to take in the simple, regal style of the bedroom.

It was official; she had fallen asleep and dreamt of being in an alternate universe where she was treated as if she were royalty. Even if it was only temporary, she could only imagine what her younger self would do if she knew how lucky she was to be where she was now.

“As a royal guest, you’re spared no luxury,” Maxwell said, matter-of-factly as he observed her walking out the balcony where the cool, fresh air blew in peacefully.

Looking over her shoulder back at him with a hint of mischief to her smile which he recognized as resembling one of his own, Riley asked, “So nothing’s stopping me from jumping on the bed?”

“There’s not much anyone can take away from you by doing that. Maybe only your dignity.” Maxwell guffawed, watching as her shoulders rose up in anticipation.

As her smile turned up even more in delight, Riley clasped her hands together and simply said, “Perfect.”

With a running start, Riley rushed over from the balcony and leaped on to the bed with a soft plop. As she sunk into the mattress and felt the smooth silk sheets over her, she sighed happily. When was the last time she had ever been able to let out a true peaceful sigh in a very rare calm moment? Due to school and work, it seemed she hadn’t been able to rest easy in years.

“Ah… this is so much better than memory foam,” Riley complimented, snuggling with a fluffy pillow and allowing herself to close her eyes to cherish the peace and quiet. “I feel like I could sleep here forever.”

“Just one of the perks you have as one of the Crown Prince’s suitors,” Maxwell remarked, laughing in goodhearted nature. He walked away from the bed towards the door. “I’ll let you settle in before your big debut tonight.”

Immediately, Riley’s eyes opened in shock at his words. What did he mean? She sat up in surprise, calling after him, “My what?”Maxwell stopped at the door, before turning back to Riley with a nervous smile. Whoops. He knew he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting that you’re not used to all this. Things are always complicated around here when it comes to special events like this, but we’ll take it one step at a time,” Maxwell reassured her. Riley’s shoulders relaxed a bit, so he continued to clarify, “The first event of the social season is tonight… The Masquerade.”

“Oh… it sounds important,” Riley commented, fiddling with her fingers. Her knowledge of fitting in with socialites and moguls was limited. She couldn’t help but think about how out of place she might look in front of the finest nobles of Cordonia. She thought she would have had a little bit more time to prepare. “I’ve never been to an event like that before. Are there scheduled activities I need to prepare for in advance?”

“Compared to the balls held to welcome nearby countries, not really. Sometimes, they go full-out with the masquerade theme where everyone takes off their masks at midnight. Then, networking goes on for hours,” Maxwell explained. “This ball, though, is where all the suitors will be presented to the Prince, as well as to the King. Most people at court already know each other really well, so it’s less uptight in a way. Just good music, dancing, and food.”

“Does that mean the guests have to be in specific costumes with masks prepared tonight?” Riley questioned, finding the idea of attending a masquerade for the first time interesting.

Shrugging his shoulders, Maxwell replied, “Not everyone dresses in costume, but some people plan months finding one to wear for it. You can be sure that the ladies competing for Liam’s attention will be pulling out all the stops.”

For a split second, Maxwell glanced doubtfully at Riley’s modestly-looking suitcase. When they were at her apartment back in New York, he watched as she hurriedly packed her most essential belongings. Among her things in her suitcase were keepsakes and books as well as her quintessential New York attire.

“I’m guessing it’s too much to ask if you’ve got a costume or fancy ballgown in there,” Maxwell joked, although he was seriously racking his brain trying to remember if she stuffed one or two in there as a backup.

With a sheepish smile, Riley lifted her suitcase on the bed. She unzipped the main compartment where she pulled out a flowy, floor-length dress as blue as the calm Cordonian sky. “I packed a dress.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure, so I’ve made an appointment for you at the palace boutique. Maybe you’ll find something you like better there!” Maxwell cheerfully informed her.

For once, he wasn’t scrambling to fix things; he was actually preparing in advance. Bertrand would be so proud of his initiative. Maxwell just knew it.

Tucking her dress back into her suitcase for the meantime, Riley replied, “I’ll check it out. There’s nothing wrong with another option or two.”

“Remember, tonight is very important. It’s your chance to make a first impression on all the influential people at court and to stand apart from everyone else. If you’re going to leave a lasting impact, you might as well stun them with some style,” Maxwell responded, with a hint of cool confidence in his last sentence.

Triple S’s and alliteration? Man, was he on a roll with smooth words. Maxwell could definitely shimmy his way into being a reality TV show host. Maybe The Bachelorette or The Bachelor could use a new host in the near future…

An eager grin made its way on her face, as Riley reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @tessa-liam

[its-stimsca]

WILLIAM AFTON STIMBOARD FOR DAY 20 OF STIMTOBER I AM INDESCRIBABLY EXCITED FOR THE FNAF MOVIE

👔 🔪 👔

🔪 👔 🔪

👔 🔪 👔

ID below cut

[Image ID

Gif 1: The Camera explores a dark hallway devoid of all people. The walls are blank, and the top half of the hallway is painted purple while the bottom half is painted dark green, a small strip of orange paint dividing the two. The carpet is a gross grayish brown, and the ceiling is white and tiled. An opening is labeled on the left by a sign hanging from the ceiling, reading “Men”, and a sign reading “Women” can be seen further down the hallway.

Gif 2: A dimly lit room with various pieces of electrical and sciencey looking equipment laying around. One of them sparks up, shooting a flame of purple fire into the space and lighting up the room.

Gif 3: A close up shot of someone’s chest, They are wearing a black suit, with a white dress shirt, and purple tie. Their right hand reaches up to straighten the tie before falling back to their side.

Gif 4: A close up shot of the ground in the city during a rain storm. The water reflects the lights further up the street of cars driving through the rain, and neon signs of buildings. The image is tinted purple.

Gif 5: William Afton from the Five Nights at Freddy’s movie, played by Matthew Lillard. He is mid sentence in the gif. He wears a gray dress shirt with crisscrossing black lines that form a grid pattern, along with a purple tie with thin, black diagonal stripes. He is a white man who looks to be in his 50s, his short hair beginning to gray. He has a beard that connects to a mustache, and wide-rimmed glasses. He’s in an office.

Gif 6: The Camera hovers in front of a silver machine with a circular purple screen in the middle, turned off. The screen has grid lines on it, and below the screen the words are printed “Oscilloscope, Model 460.” Various other black dials are scattered across the panel’s surface.

Gif 7: Two keys dangle from a key ring, a third key on the ring inserted into the lock of a door. The door is white and the keys are silver, but the image is tinted purple.

Gif 8: Two hands manipulate the fingers of a doll hand, each joint articulated. The image is tinted purple.

Gif 9: The cameraman is exploring an empty, dark, movie theater, the camera panning around to show off the space. The walls and chairs are a desaturated blue, while the railings of the aisles are painted purple.

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 33

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Are you here to do what they cannot?”

AO3

The elevator came to a rolling stop, and the door parted to reveal a large tunnel ahead, chiseled out of the surrounding bedrock. Hanging fluorescents lit the way, bracketed by pipes and wires that must lead to a separate power generator and cooling systems. You were so far beneath the facility that it had to be isolated from the site’s power and water grid.

A squad of five soldiers waited once the doors parted, and they weren’t any standard security you’d ever seen. In fact, upon looking closer, you saw the Mobile Task Force logo etched into the arm bands of their uniforms.

What was the MTF doing here? Their whole purpose, their advantage, was mobilization to where they were needed, but you’d never heard of them being kept on-site before.

The Site Director offered no commentary or explanation, simply gave a nod, and the Site-20 guards handed you off to the MTFs. They were ridiculously overpowered in their tactical suits compared to your knee-length nightgown, of which did you no service in keeping you warm so deep underground.

Walking no more than five minutes, your group arrived at a massive door at least 10 meters tall, thick enough to sustain a bomb blast by the looks of it. But what drew your eye was a familiar face, already there to greet you.

“I don’t recall inviting you, Amin,” Leahy drawled. Dr. Puli stood straighter, his frown the most severe you’ve seen it yet.

“This isn’t right, Geoff. I must protest.”

“Noted.”

“When the O5 Council learns what you’re doing—”

“Who do you think authorized this project?”

Dr. Puli’s eyes widened, glancing between you and the Site Director, but his jaw clenched into a stubborn hold.

“They would never allow this.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have the clearance level to know for certain.” Leahy motioned his head down the tunnel, back the way you’d came. “Now, are you going to retreat with your tail between your legs? Or are you going to stay, because despite your weak objections, you wish to know what will happen just as much as I do.”

Dr. Puli met Leahy’s stare, the Site Director’s without any warmth behind his rimmed glasses. Your former boss lost the test of wills, stepping aside and sending you a quick glance before looking away.

Leahy scoffed, taking your arm as he pulled you forward.

“Despite being a psychologist, you’re as predictable as anyone else.”

Leahy walked to a panel and retrieved something from his pocket: a flat, rectangular object, its surface solid black but thicker than a typical keycard, and inserted in into a card reader.

“Open it.” The Site Director gave the order to a technical engineer at a console, and he worked the controls, the massive door sliding upwards at his command. Beyond was a catwalk, leading into darkness so black it seemed to be the end of the known universe.

Leahy wasted no time, pushing you forward before letting go.

“Walk.”

Your feet remained glued to the ground, your legs trembling and refusing to budge.

Leahy went to the console and pulled out what looked like a handheld microphone, the kind that belonged to CB radios. He instructed the engineer which channel to dial before he clicked the microphone on.

“049 containment team? Over.”

A small, tinny voice replied, but it was loud enough for all to hear.

“Standing by. Over.”

“Are you prepared to move the SCP into permanent containment? Over.”

“Affirmative, over.”

Leahy stared at you, not needing to say anything more than that. He had you trapped, and it disgusted you that he knew you well enough to know it would work. You wouldn’t let 049 be punished because the Site Director was a sadist, and you could only hope that if this last test killed you, Leahy would lose interest in 049. Maybe, he would move on when his shiny toy was broken, leaving 049 in peace while he found some new victim to torment.

You turned back to the black void and walked forward. Moving past the door, you stopped and half-turned when it began to slide shut behind you.

“What am I supposed to do!” you yelled to be heard over the humming gears.

“Make physical contact with the anomaly!”

“What else!”

Leahy said nothing, even though he had time before the bottom of the door touch the ground, sealing you inside with a final loud series of locks sliding into place.

Your breathing was too loud in the open space, straining to see in the pitch dark, searching so hard that you flinched when the catwalk lit beneath your feet. Walking lights lined the suspended pathway, revealing you weren’t suspended over nothingness. The bottom curve of the tunnel was roughly ten feet below you, but the ceiling was still high overhead. It didn’t bode well why the Foundation needed such a large tunnel for whatever they were keeping here.

With nothing else to do, you moved forward, guessing that Leahy had some method of monitoring your progress. The tunnel was too large to spot any cameras or other equipment, so you kept going, illuminated by the lights stretching out ahead of you, like a runway guiding your path to take flight.

If only you could.

The rock walls had vanished, though you couldn’t pinpoint when, replaced by rectangular, metallic panels curving around the tunnel, leaving you with the impression you were walking inside a giant conductor of some kind. A low humming noise came from ahead of you, and the hairs on your body stood upright.

The catwalk ended in darkness, and as you approached the last few remaining steps, lights flashed on overhead, forcing you to shield your eyes. When you lowered your hand and opened your eyes, you couldn’t understand what you were seeing. The rectangular panels of the round room were raised and aimed at the center, like an array of solar panels, but they were aimed at no sun. Lit in the middle of the room, illuminated by focused spotlights and hovering in the air, was what had to be the anomaly.

It was a writhing, shifting mass of flesh with a spherical shape, constantly moving and turning. At first, it would coalesce into something that resembled a face, though the muzzle was long and filled with teeth, and then it would disappear again into a twisting mess that hurt the mind to comprehend.

And then you realized it wasn’t shifting; the mass was turning itself inside out, over and over. The muzzle appeared again, and this time, it spoke.

“Have the apes finally found a way to end me?”

You went back a step, halfway raising your hands as if to block out the bone-jarring voice.

“Are you here to do what they cannot?”

Fighting down the bile that threatened to rise in your throat, you stared at the mass and concentrated on the features before they could disappear. A long snout, a greenish mane, and grey scales.

“682?”

The SCP rumbled an affirmation that rattled the panels on the wall.

“But… that’s not possible,” you choked. “You were labeled as neutralized after the Site-19 breach.”

682 rumbled again, this time it was closer to a threatening growl. You took another step backwards.

“I am trapped here… in a constant state of eternal agony, unable to prevent my bones from twisting and my flesh from boiling. This… is as close to neutralized as humanity can achieve.”

Even without any eyes at any given moment, the accusation of his gaze was hot on your skin.

“Though, perhaps that has changed, and my torment will be finished. Come. End it.”

You could only stare at the horrific thing that used to be 682.

“I don’t… understand.”

“What is there to not understand?”

“What did they do to you?”

Though you’d never seen 682 in person, you’d seen photos and video footage. The reptilian anomaly could change his size and composition to fit his environment, but this was something else.

682 was silent, though you could swear you heard… or felt echoes of its screams of agony, especially the longer you were in his presence.

“The humans managed to trap me within another entity,” 682 said, his words dragging out as if with reluctance. “A singularity the size of a speck, but capable of consuming my body just as quickly as I can regenerate. I do not think they meant this room to be my new cell, but per their fashion, the apes can do nothing right. I cannot die, but perhaps for the first time, I wish I could.”

The Hard-to-Destroy Reptile was no longer the menacing, humanity-hating entity he had once been, and you actually felt sorry for him. With how many times he had tried to escape, and how many lives he’d taken, it wasn’t a mystery why Leahy wanted you here, to touch the SCP and stop his healing regeneration and adaptive capabilities.

He wanted you to kill 682 permanently.

“What are you waiting for?” the reptile snarled, his teeth bared for the brief moment his muzzle appeared. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, needing to stall for time, time to think.

“How do you know what I can do to SCPs?”

The monstrous reptile gave an offended snort.

“Even without your Site Director trotting you out like a prized hound, I know you. I would know you anywhere.”

Coincidentally, or to prove his point, one large, slitted eye gazed down on you, malice held in those yellow depths.

“You were sent to do their bidding. I make no illusions, and neither should you. Now, do it. Destroy me.”

“I…” Your mouth was dry. “…I can’t. I can’t kill you.”

682’s roar sent you scrambling backwards, the panels trembling in their positions as bits of dust drifted down from the rounded ceiling.

“Foolish, naïve child! Believing you still make your own choices because you are blind to the leash around your neck! You do not understand your own nature, your ignorance will be an instrument used at their whim. A beast set upon your masters’ enemies!”

682 writhed faster, snarling and biting at the air, his claws lashing at nothing only to disappear inside his twisted body.

“And you dare tote yourself as something better than us, absolving yourself of death even as blood stains your hands. And there will be blood, so much of it. When the leash tightens into a noose, that is when you will be the most dangerous. Your masters are not as foolish as you are. Perhaps, even now, they are building the walls of your containment.”

Your limbs wouldn’t stop shaking; you wanted to run from this horrible place, from the impossible nightmare scene in front of you, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“I don’t… don’t understand. What I am, what you th-think I am. But this is… this is wrong. Cruel.”

“You cannot be cruel to a thing.”

The words were so similar to Leahy’s opinion about 049 that you didn’t doubt he’d said them to 682. You would never understand how a man who despised SCPs had risen to the rank of Site Director.

Another rumble echoed from the twisting mass, this one laden with heaviness.

“If you will not end my suffering, then get out of my sight. I have little use for something like you, clearly in the early stages of infancy. Perhaps with time you would grow to what is needed, but time… is what we both lack.”

You began to back away, your hands no longer curled next to your head but now pressed against your chest.

“I… I don’t know what to do for you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re… sorry?”

The writhing mass twirling and focused on you, pulsing faster.

“I experience a lifetime of suffering within the span of a single moment, and you’re sorry?”

682 roared, and for a moment, his head formed out of the grotesque sphere, cohesive and baring his ancient teeth.

“Your apologies are poison! More insidious than their lies! Make your apologies to 079, and then perhaps your words will amount to more than useless noise!”

The face disappeared back into the mass, giving one last agonizing scream that followed close at your heels as you sprinted back down the catwalk. You slipped and stumbled, your hospital shoes not affording much traction against the surface, but you didn’t stop running until you reached the vaulted door. Trying to catch your breath, you hunched over and braced against your knees, your eyes burning as you alternated between gasping and retching.

They must have known you were there; the door began its arduous slide upwards, guards spilling through the open walkway, half of them aiming their guns at you, the other half moving past you to set their sights down the catwalk. Nothing had followed you, but they clearly weren’t taking any chances.

“Well?”

You raised your head, neck craning as your palms remained on your knees.

“Status report?” Leahy prompted when you didn’t answer.

You wanted to tell him where to show his status report, but instead you said, “It didn’t work.”

Leahy frowned, glancing over you back down the catwalk where you’d come. The MTF no longer had their guns raised, but they weren’t at ease by any means.

“Explain.”

You slowly straightened your spine and stared at him. Your usual mixture of hate and disgust was there, but fear swam under the surface. You wanted to believe that Leahy hadn’t meant to trap 682 in an eternal cycle of suffering, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it either. You were beginning to realize you’d underestimated his capacity for cruel violence.

“I touched him, and nothing happened.”

“The lizard still lives?”

You didn’t bother to correct him that lizards and reptiles weren’t interchangeable terms. All you said was, “Yes.”

Leahy brought up his tablet, swiping over its surface with a frown.

“Disappointing.”

Pressing your lips together, you kept at bay the pleas you wanted to make on behalf of 049, for Leahy not to punish him for your failure. But he didn’t call on 049’s containment team, nor did he make any threats. He merely nodded at the MTF soldiers, and they grabbed you by the arms and led you back down the tunnel.

You looked over your shoulder and watched as the massive door slid into place.

Next Chapter

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Coffee

written: Oct 3, 2019

Black!reader x dark!Bruce Banner

Bruce Banner did not get distracted easily. Just when he was started to make real headway on his project you walked in. Decked out in a pastel blue lab coat, heels, and hair bundled at the top of your head with a wrap his eyes landed on you. Brushing the tight black coils out of your face Bruce stirred in his chair, he shifted his weight as he carefully watched you bend over and then push your bag under the desk.

You were so damn beautiful and smart. Bruce’s eyes trace the outline of your body, he mulled over the shape of you underneath that coat. He wondered if your ass, your hips would fit perfectly in his hands as he imagined.

“I brought coffee.” said Bruce, watching you over the tops of his frames.

Your pouty mouth licked the rim of the cup before sitting it down. The tinge in his crotch began to ache. “Taste great! Did you grind this? Like is this your special mix you were talking about the other day?”

He lowered his eyes, appeared busy by grabbing up a glass flask and inserted it in to the galvanizing spectrum meter to his left.  “Ya. The beans were shipped from a friend. Swears by them—glad you like it too. It’s definitely a special blend.”

Bruce turned, still imitating working, but his eyes focused over the brim of his glasses as he stared hard at you. Suddenly you stopped where you stood, your paperwork falling from your hands to the desk. and to the floor. Bruce smiled. “Did the door lock after you came in? We don’t need stragglers interrupting.” he asked.

You stood there silent for a moment. In a daze you turned around walked across the space and hit the panel on the right of the door. “It’s locked.” You spoke through a soft breath.

Bruce smiled, a half grin pulled up at the right of his lips as he removed his glasses. He leaned back in his chair, spread his legs as he turned in your direction. Your back stilled faced him, though there was a noticeable shake in your shoulders. The hem of your lab coat cut just below your knees shook.

Bruce placed one arm of his glasses in his mouth, slowly he clicked it across his lower teeth as his eyes analyzed your behavior.

“Doctor…I feel..” you tried to speak clearly, but a pain, no an ache from deep within had you cradling your belly. You hunched over, confusion spread at your recent actions. Bruce had asked of you and without fail you complied. A gush of wetness dripped around your underwear and over your thighs it glided toward the floor.

“Come here.” commanded Bruce.

“No..” You resisted, but the tone, the sensuality of his voice rolled over you in a shudder.

You turned, began to walk, your eyes watery with fear as you struggled not to obey. “What did you do? What is this..” you groaned with every word, and step.

“Just some help. I didn’t know I made it so strong. I can see the puddle over by the door.” Bruce laughed, he put his glasses on the desk. He pulled off his lab coat, tossed it to the floor and began to work at the button on his slacks. “I have something for you. Can’t wait till you see it baby.”

“Bruce, please..Doctor.”

You followed his order without fail. Compelled to listen to him you walked across the space until stood between his open thighs. “No, no. Call me Bruce.” He said, as his hand glided up the hot, sticky and sweaty brown skin of your inner thigh. You wanted to feel shy, to feel something other than the desperate need growing in your cunt. But as his fingers swiped against your panties they nudged the moist folds underneath you felt nothing but want. “I like when you call me by my name.” he said with a smile.

A jolt straight up your insides burned and gnarled within you causing a noticeable dip in your frame. You clenched, you whined as it the ache turned dangerously agonizing. “Please..don’t do this. I don’t want this.” You begged.

“You see you have to.” said Bruce, the grin still playing over his lips. “You need the release. You don’t want to die do you?”

Your eyes fell to his crotch in time to see him pull out his cock. It was large, uncut, a few shades darker than the rest of his body but the tip was flushed and engorged to a delicious shade of plum. Your mouth watered as you stared at it.

Bruce’s warm fingers tugged your panties to the side. His index finger slid from your taint all the way up to your clit in one stroke. You wiggled under his touch and gasped as he retreated from your heat. He with drew his hand, leaned back and rubbed your slip over the head of his cock. “I knew it. You have always wanted me, just needed some incentive.”

“Take off your clothes. Let me see that beautiful body.” You shook your head, did your best to resist. Bruce tilted back, judging you as you defied his order. “Don’t fight it.”

Tears slid down your face as smoothing as your jacket coming off your shoulders. It felt easier listening and then fulfilling his commands. Your hands moved over the hem of your top as you peeled it away. Bruce’s eyes lingered on your bra, and then as you slide out of your skirt he focused on your wet mound poking out of the side of your panties.

“All of it.” He continued, stroking himself as he watched you. He stared at your wonderfully stiff dark brown nipples. Slowly, he followed the outline of your curves as you tried to shield some of you from his gaze. And as the sly smile faded from his face he pointed to the cement floor. “Now, get on your knees.”

You once again did as you were ordered. “For two months I’ve been curious why you ignored me. I tried to get to know you didn’t I?” he asked, his fingers hooked under your chin drew you in closer. “All I wanted from you was a little companionship; you know how lonely it gets in this lab.”

Bruce held the sides of your head in his hands. You opened your mouth in time to engulf the head of his seeping cock. “I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He groaned as he pushed you down on him. “Watching you…and not touching.” He hissed when you finally began to bob up and down on your own.

“That’s right suck it. Make it tight. I know you’re angry with me…” his head rolled back, so did his eyes as he shut them and took in the vacuum you made for him. “’let me feel it.”

Bruce’s thighs twitched just before he thrust up to meet you coming back down on him. His hands still held your head, and then moved to your shoulders as your mouth rode his cock. “Greedy, girl.” He grunted out as his head popped back up to meet your eager eyes.

“You wanna feel me on the inside baby?” he asked, but he knew you weren’t able to disobey.

“Sit on my lap.” He said, and hooked his hands under your arms as you began to stand and pulled you onto his thighs.

Bruce lifted you a bit, lined himself up with your cunt and pushed you down on him. One quick painful thrust and he was inside you, buried in your wet slit. You stilted, collapsed onto his shoulder and gripped the back of the chair.

“Too big?” Bruce groaned again as his hands glided down your back to your thick ass. He squeezed and spread you apart as he used your body as a brace to pull out then slam back in. “’ tight little pussy.” he crooned.

Bruce’s hands left you and then together slapped back on to your ass forcing you to match his movements. “Take it, you can do it.”

You followed. Not completely adjusted to him you did as he asked anyway. Slowly you began to ride him. Your clit skimming the fabric of his slacks was enough to stimulate your already swollen knob of a clit.

Bruce breathes deep, he enjoys watching the sweat drip from your face, pool in small droplets over your shoulders. And he can smell how aroused you are, the sweet murky fragrance of desire wafting from you begins to send him over the edge.

His hands leave your ass, he gathered your face in his hands as he stared at your open mouth, then your wide wanton gaze. “Smart girl. That’s right ride me—show me how much you wanted it.”

You panted, deep shallow breathes fell from your lips as you snatched up patches of desire every time you plunged down upon him. The pain in your womb began to uncoil as you become untethered from the need to orgasm. It was the heat though, sensitive and tender on the inside the heat from his cock was what stroked you toward your climax. Over come with the sweet release of it you shut your eyes savoring the pleasure of it all.

“No, look at me when you cum.” Moaned Bruce, he brought you closer to his lips as he lightly kissed you as you rode him hard. You wanted to throw your head back instead you obeyed and struggled to keep your eyes on him.

“Don’t stop, baby…” Bruce whispered across your lips and into your mouth. “Don’t stop till I fill you up..”

A pained whine bubbled up, pathetic and sorrowful. “No…please..don’t do that.” You asked, but couldn’t stop yourself from riding him.

“Shut up….” Bruce looked back and forth between your face, to watching your tits worshipfully as they bounced and rubbed all over the chest of his button up. “And you’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your hold slipped from the chair to his dark silky curls at the back of his heads as you tipped up and down on him. Bruce’s hands left your face, he grabbed your ass as he began to pound into you. The moans from your lips bounced with his thumping until he stilled, he kicked out a leg as he came then pushed you back down on his final thrust. You held on, wrapped your arms around his neck as he buried his face into your clavicle. His stubble scraped across your smooth damp skin when he moaned. He still slowly pushed in and out allowing the feeling of you around him to settle the raging green inside him.

He stirred finally, he brought his hands up to your shoulders then shoved you off him and knocking you down on to the floor. Terrified you huddled and tried to cover your self—then your eyes rolled up his spread legs, to the wet spot on his slacks where his cock stood erect as he stroked it.

Your eyes locked with Bruce. His face, the expression a shadow of the sweet Doctor you had come to know stared you down with contempt.

“Suck it, and make it tight.” he instructed.

[interiordecorationideas]

12 Amazing Wooden Door Designs For Your Home

When you are designing the interior of your home, give some thought to the design of the doors. Doors are primarily a functional element of your home, as they provide much-needed security and privacy from the outside world. The design of doors is also important, as it can add to the aesthetic appeal and enhance your decor statement. We've rounded up the best wooden door designs to give you decor inspiration.

Front doors add character and style to the outside of your home and create the first impression of your home for visitors. They should be in keeping with the architectural elements of your building. Is it classical or contemporary? Would a natural framed door look good, or should it be painted to match the other design elements?

Are you aware of the difference between the wood used to make doors and furniture? If not, this guide will help you make the right choice between different types of wood before investing in furniture and decorative items, crafts, and handicrafts to decorate homes.

Ideas to incorporate beautiful Wooden Door Design in Your Home

1. Contemporary Teak wood Door

Here's a contemporary door in teak wood with a vertical glass insert that allows you to see who your visitors are before you even open the door. You can take, help best interior designers in Noida so they can guide you through this process.

2. Three Side Glass Panelled Wooden Door

This lovely entry door makes a grand statement and is surrounded on three sides by glass panels which add a lovely aesthetic.

3. Teak Wood Rectangular Panel doors with Mirror

Rectangular panels in polished teak wood emphasize this country home's rustic plaster façade, while tall glass panels on one side add functionality.

4. Rosewood Door

This fine rosewood door is embellished with cornice detailing and includes white panels to add visual appeal.

5. Ornamental Wrought Iron Doors

Gorgeous decorative wrought iron sets distinguish the panelling in this mahogany front door that blends in perfectly with the home's exposed brick façade.

6. Minimalist White Wooden Door

Elegant in white, this charming front door is detailed with molded panels that are simple and clean. The side window, even in white, gives a glimpse of the visitors.

7. Functional and Aesthetic Balcony Doors

Balcony doors are the transition between the inside and outside of your home. Large glass French windows can open the view and allow a seamless view of your garden. If you need privacy, use frosted or opaque glass that will still let in light.

Related blog: 15 DIY Vertical Garden Ideas in Budget

8. Glass Bathroom Doors

We love opening these all-glass bathroom doors to a private balcony. The dark wood frame is sleek and minimalist.

Related blog: 15 Bathroom Decorating Ideas on Budget for 2024

9. Wooden Doors with Glass for a Glimpse of The Outdoors

Glass adds a touch of contemporary style to any design and can make heavy doors look visually lighter. Strategically placed glass panels can allow sunlight to flow through during the day, bringing freshness and happiness to your home.

Related blog: How to Build a Gravel Patio: DIY 9 Steps

10. Get Twice the Style with Double Doors

If you have the space, open your areas with more eloquence. Double Door Twice adds elegance and makes a grand statement.

If you want to keep one side short and use only one side as an entry door, the overall width of your double door should be at least 6 feet.

Double doors look better in homes with high ceilings, as the design proportions work better in larger spaces.

Related blog: Types of False Ceiling Lights: Complete Guide

11. Sliding Doors That Are Sleek and Functional

Sliding doors allow you to create privacy when needed in open-plan homes. There are different types of sliding doors, including doors that completely disappear into the wall on either side. There are some sliding low folding doors that stack on the sides of the opening. Sliding doors come with single track (or top hung), and double track fittings.

12. Glass Panelled Doors

This glass-panelled wooden door slides in on both sides as well as is surrounded by glass above, allowing expansive views of the interior.

[stardusted-mouse]

Now playing file <What_Happened.mov>

The video opens to the echoing sound of heels clicking on a tile floor; a pov shot of the person recording walking down a long hallway. A glance towards a passing window reveals the person recording as Dr Alexandra Fawne, the camera likely located somewhere within her glasses. The view panning downwards shows that the doctor is holding Coma in one arm, the other gripping the strap of her bag with white knuckles. The subject is visibly tired but quiet, watching their surroundings passively even with the tension that hung over them both.

Dr Fawne approached a large set of metal sliding doors, taking a deep breath just before they slid silently open. Behind the door, a young agent looks up from where he had been previously occupied with his computer. He seems surprised to see them, but Dr Fawne pays him no attention as she crosses the room to the identical door on the other wall. She releases her grip on her bag to begin digging through it for her ID, but is stopped before she can use it by the agent’s voice off-camera.

“Dr Fawne?” It turns to look at him, the scar on his brow making their confused furrow look harsher, “I’m sorry, you’re not on the approved personnel list for today?”

The doctor responds after a small moment, giving a sigh, “I am aware, but unfortunately the subject has been having difficulty sleeping as of late. It soothes her to be in the shuttle, and I figure I could use the time to get some work done.”

They both glance down at Coma just as she lets out a large yawn, and yet the agent does not seem completely convinced.

Dr Fawne to releases an annoyed huff, “If Cooper has an issue with it he can take it up with me and then shove it up his ass.”

He lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh, finally entering the code to allow her ID to scan her into the hangar, “Alright, alright.”

The doctor gives him tense smile and a nod, before holding her ID up to the scanner and walking through the door. She slowly lets out the breath she did not realize she was holding as she entered the hangar. Once close enough to the shuttle, she set Coma down and told her to go lay inside and wait for her.

The camera lingers on the image of the small mouse running away for a moment, before turning sharply away and walking towards a control panel set into the wall. Dr Fawne’s hand comes into frame once again to enter a small code into the keyboard on the panel, causing an even smaller panel to slide open to reveal a USB port. The rustling of a bag is heard offscreen before the doctor’s other hand rises into view holding a small flash drive, labeled on the side with the word “invisible”.

She hesitates very briefly, seeming to brace herself, before inserting the drive into the wall. Dr Fawne waits for a moment, before looking up in the direction of the closest security camera in the area to watch as it sinks in deactivation. One last quick glance at the panel on the wall reveals a five minute timer has started, before the doctor turns and quickly makes her way towards the shuttle.

Once inside, the camera finds and focuses on where the Coma is sitting in a small chair near the large computer screen along one wall of the craft. Having waited patiently for Dr Fawne to appear, she was already buckled into the seat and looking up at her expectantly.

“Good girl,” The doctor said warmly as she walked over and kneeled in front of her, Coma giving a bright smile in response that was interrupted by a loud yawn.

“You’re going to go on a trip for a while, okay little one?” She continued in a whisper, the subject nodding along sleepily, “And then in a few days I will call you back down okay? And we can go to a new place together, far away from all those mean men and tests. First you just need to take a little adventure.”

“Like in my stories,” Coma mumbled, and Dr Fawne gave a small chuckle.

“Yes, just like from your stories. You go on an adventure and then you get your happily ever after.” She brings a hand up to gently cup the mouse’s cheek, “You just gotta be brave, okay? Computer will take care of you while you’re away.”

“Mmkay mama,” Coma nuzzled into her hand, eyes blinking slowly, and the camera sees nothing for a moment as Dr Fawne leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Goodbye, Coma, I will see you soon.” The words are hushed, slightly pained, and after muttering them the room is suddenly bathed in red lights, an alarm blaring outside. Their time is up, GUN has noticed something is wrong.

Dr Fawne turns to the shuttle’s computer, barking an order to begin launch sequence as soon as she has left the shuttle. She ruffles Coma’s hair one last time before rushing out of the ship, the hatch sliding shut behind her. Running down the hall, she gets to the panel in the wall just before the doors to the hangar burst open, a swarm of armed guards entering.

The guards surrounded her quickly, her back to the wall as the camera looked around for a way out. After a moment, the wall parted to allow a man to walk through, his expression smug as he looked down at the doctor.

“Cooper,” Dr Fawne spits the name, before actually spitting at the ground in front of him.

Damien Cooper’s smarmy grin turned into a grimace of disgust at the action, before he looked at her unamused, “Cute. I can’t say I’m surprised to find out our “breach” in security was you, Alexandra. We really have let you grow far too attached to your little… pet project. Where is the subject?”

Dr Fawne laughs from behind the camera in response, everything beginning to shake slightly. It seems to be more than just the camera, as the guards are visibly thrown off balance in front of her. They all look to the side for the source of the disturbance, the doctor doing so as well a beat later, in time to see the shuttle containing the subject lifting itself into the air.

“What are you doing just standing there?” Cooper snarled at the men standing around staring at it, the camera finding him once again, “Stop that ship!”

“You can’t,” Dr Fawne taunts him, the smirk evident in her voice, “I’ve locked GUN out of its systems, it will only come back down when I give the word.”

Cooper glares down at her for a minute, before barking sharply, “Agent Spears, do your job. Arrest her, we’ll see if we can’t find a way to get that shuttle back on the ground. And if not, we can find other uses for her...”

As he turns to walk away, the agent from before hesitantly steps forward, cuffs in hand. Despite the fact she had lied to him earlier, he did not seem entirely comfortable following the order. Dr Fawne did not struggle however, passively turning to face the wall and allowing the agent to handcuff her. The camera’s view stayed on the shuttle as it rose ever higher into the air, until Dr Fawne was turned and forced to begin walking towards the door.

File closed

[ekrochford]

Maul x femreader NSFW self-insert fanfic (part 5/10)

[Finally accepted to AO3! If you're enjoying this fic and you crave the convenience of chapter navigation, this exact work is on my AO3 now.]

Part 5

You walk without stumbling from Maul’s room, and you feel that under the circumstances, that’s no small thing. Your knees give an occasional, threatening wobble, your muscles are languid and limp. You had put your clothes back on before either of you could get more ideas, and thinking about the way Maul’s eyes had watched your skin disappear made the dim hallway tilt alarmingly under your feet.

There’s a community refresher at the end of the hall; once Maul’s door is safely shut, you saunter down the short hall and try the door. Locked. You hear someone inside, and retreat to your room to collect your soap and fresh clothes. You’re well due for a shower—or the minimal-water scrub that passes for a shower here in these sand-blown outlands.

You enter your room to find everything as you left it. You hadn’t expected to be gone all night, but of course you locked up anyway. You don’t have much worth stealing, even if someone went to the trouble. Your journals and datapads, which make up most of the weight in your travel pack; another full set of clothes and extra underthings; socks, head cover, gloves, UV protective glasses. Your handful of credits live in your pants pocket, always on your person.

Except last night, which they spent piled on Maul’s floor…

A replay starts up in your mind, which you aren’t sorry to indulge. You don’t know where Maul learned all of it; if there was some sex-cult tutorial or seminar out there in the galaxy, he could really do womankind a favor and let a few other men in on the secret.

You hear the refresher door, loud in the hallway. It dawns on you that these room doors are about thick enough to block a strong air current and not much else. You think back—just how loud were you two last night?

Cringing, you step out into the hall in time to see your neighbor in 3 opening their room. It’s a Trandoshan—tall and scaled and hairless and you can’t tell male from female so you give a cautious, tight smile.

He or she gives a growl and sneer that transcends species and slams their door, leaving you alone in the hall. Oh, yes. Everyone heard you.

Well, the refresher is open so you head down the hall. Nothing to do about the noise, now.

By the time you’ve bathed and dressed, you feel like you could sleep for a year. You reach for the door panel.

On the other side, you hear another door open down the hall.

You hold your breath. Of course, you can’t be sure whose door it is, but there are only six, and only five when you cross your own off the list. It’s after dawn, and the other renters will be getting up and about.

But you know it’s him. You don’t hear another whisper of sound, nothing, through the flimsy door. But you know.

Your hand hesitates over the lock panel. Is he out there now? Standing just on the other side? Shouldn’t that thought exhilarate you, after the night you’ve had? But you hesitate, and hesitate. You didn’t hear him leave, and the thought that when you open the door, he might be there filling the space, looking down at you…

You swallow past a lump in your throat that feels like sand, and tap the unlock key on the door panel.

The door whooshes open. The hall is empty.

The tension unknots at once. Now that you see he’s not here, you feel silly for even worrying.

---

Your room is cold.

It emanates from the wall, the one across the room from your bed. The one you share with Maul’s room. The air has taken on a discolored, icy tinge, as if the light from the window is slanting through pale glass. You sit up in bed, the blankets fall away; it doesn’t make you any colder. The sensation is already under your skin, in your muscles, in your bones.

Something is calling to you through the stone. You stand up and move toward it, but you wish you didn’t have to. This call isn’t the hopeful, patient call of old artifacts, eager to share their stories.

This pull is insistent and… cruel. It consumes. It hates.

It’s so cold next to the wall that you expect to see a rime of frost. There is none—is that because there is no water in the air here, or is it because this coldness is inside you, growing as you obey this stubborn tug of impulse?

You don’t want to, but you reach out to touch the wall, to get closer to the source of this terrible cold.

Your heart shoots up first as you shoot upright in your bed. It’s still kicking as you sit there, alone, and catch your breath. You can feel it beat through your back, down your arms and legs like you’ve run for your life for twenty kilometers.

Shivering, you swing your legs over the side of the bed. It’s daylight out. Merciless desert daylight. You don’t have anything on your schedule except to wait for the rest of your team and the professor, but you’re starving and thirsty and there must be somewhere with proper kitchen sanitation tucked away in this city. Nothing to do but explore.

You dress and have another visit to the refresher; even the communal bathhouse at the University is more luxurious, but on the other hand, you know the rustic conditions at the dig site will be even sparser. You manage all the necessities and make yourself presentable.

On the way out of the lobby, the Weequay hostess squawks at the sight of you.

“Hey! You! This isn’t a brothel!”

Your face flushes in embarrassment. “I—I’m—”

The hostess stands up behind her desk. “I been having noise complaints for half the night and half the morning!”

“I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to disturb anyone—”

“If I get any more complaints—”

You wait, but never find out what the ultimatum is. The Weequay has frozen, and you realize her deep-set eyes have shifted over your shoulder.

You twist around and there he is. Maul is standing in the doorway to the street behind you, backlit by blazing white Tatooine sunlight. His hood is up, but he drops it as he walks into the shade. His yellow eyes drill into the hostess’.

“You were saying?” How can his voice be courteous and deadly at the same time? He stops at your side, daring the hostess to continue.

She doesn’t. With a growl, she drops her eyes and sits back down.

“We’ll be quieter,” you promise quickly. “I didn’t mean—we didn’t mean to disturb everyone—we’ll be quieter in the future.”

The Weequay glances at you, then at Maul, and doesn’t comment.

You’re headed out into the heat and Maul is headed back inside, but you pause together in the entryway. He looks you over and gives you a deviant smile.

“I suppose that means you’ll be visiting my room tonight, as well.”

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See you next chapter!]