#heigh ceilings

[yogadaily]

(via Pin on OUTFITS  || Curated with love by yogadaily) 

[you-born-this-way]

Transitional Laundry Room - Laundry

Small transitional u-shaped medium tone wood floor, brown floor and vaulted ceiling dedicated laundry room photo with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, quartzite countertops, white backsplash, mosaic tile backsplash, white walls, a stacked washer/dryer and white countertops

[zinaarts]

Ideas for a small, modern tile patio renovation with a fireplace and a gazebo Inspiration for a small transitional backyard tile patio remodel with a fireplace and a gazebo

[mrdifferent]

Home Bar Galley Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional galley light wood floor and brown floor wet bar remodel with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, black cabinets, marble countertops, mirror backsplash and black countertops

[samexplores]

New Orleans Transitional Pool

Idea for a small natural hot tub in a rectangular backyard with transitional tiles.

[images2keep]

Tile in New Orleans Example of a small transitional backyard tile patio design with a fireplace

[majesticleon]

Ideas for a small, modern tile patio renovation with a fireplace and a gazebo Inspiration for a small transitional backyard tile patio remodel with a fireplace and a gazebo

[laineydiemond]

Game Room (New Orleans)

[hekyll-jyde]

Playroom - Contemporary Kids An illustration of a modern, gender-neutral playroom with blue walls and a medium-toned wood floor.

[pilfappreciator]

Can you write about Veneer... Just, like, anything at all. I'm BEGGING. They could be headcanons, drabbles, oneshots, ANYTHING. My little gay mind can't handle it. If you don't have any ideas here are some that I have off the top of my head ^_^ (also if you could make any of these male reader I will love you forever BUT you obviously don't have to <33)

- Baking with him (but either veneer or the reader is a nightmare in the kitchen and everything goes wrong)

- Having a slumber party !! (Doing eachothers nails, hair, makeup, watching movies, just talking, possibly falling asleep in eachothers arms and being embarrassed in the morning)

- Playing hide and seek together

- CHRISTMAS WITH VENEER!!! (Decorating the house/Christmas tree, getting presents, playing out in the snow, just general festive activities:3)

- Reader who has a shit ton of stuffies and has named them all (introducing them to Veneer, cuddling, fluffy things)

- Eepy time (sleeping/cuddling hcs, shenanigans, not being able to fall asleep, weird midnight chats)

I had more but I forgot....

NAHHH UR LITERALLLY SO BASED I LOVE YOU FOR THAT!!! Veneer is literally such a criminal cuz like?? He kidnapped someone, tortured them, AND he stole your heart??? SOMEONE STOP HIM ASDKJALJSLD

Ended up combining a few of your ideas into one big concept! Hope you don't mind :3

Also heads up that this takes place before the events of Band Together took off! Just figured it'd be kinda hard to throw a sleepover when your ass is literally in prison lol

Veneer x Reader: when your favorite twink invites you to a sleepover

Includes: Male! Reader, sleepover shenanigans, fluff, slight angst, gaygaygaygay—

💎 You and Veneer would have to be INCREDIBLY close before he even considered invited you over

💎 Tbh I feel like getting invited to hangout with this guy in any way is actually? Kind of a privilage?? Like his fame is obviously a big factor in that but growing up, I doubt he had any actual friends who weren't his sister. I imagine him as kinda shy and non-confrontational as a kid, and though Velvet wasn't the BEST sibling, she never hesitated to cuss out whatever poor soul chose to pick on her brother. She's always been the one to lead and Veneer has always just followed

💎 I mean... the guy literally participated in tortue just cuz his sister told him to. He sheep coded as hell 😔

💎 So yeah, this boy probably has like zero experience when it comes to having friends who don't use him for his fame and/or are related to him by blood. Luckily you came along! Now he's actually got someone with whom he shares a genuine connection with!!

💎 Whether that connection is strictly platonic has... yet to be determined >;3c

💎 WITH THAT BEING SAID!! This guy has never once participated in a sleepover (hanging out in his sister's room doesn't count), and he's got absolutely no clue what to do ://

💎 Will conduct numerous amounts of research days in advance! And by research, I mean he's binging all his favorite chick flicks and having Krimp take notes aslkdhaljsdl

💎 FR THO!! THIS BOY IS JITTERY AS HELL WHEN THE TIME COMES TO ASK YOU OUT OVER LIKE---!

💎 "Oh heyyyy, (____)! Fancy seeing you here!"

"This... is my house?"

"R-right, right! Obviously! Um, anyway, do you like sleeping?"

"Uh."

"Also, u-uh, totally unrelated but have you ever wondered what the inside of my house looks like?"

💎 Pls just accept his invitation. If he gets any redder he might pop a blood vessel or something

💎 Heaves out the BIGGEST sigh once you say yes. He'll try to play himself off as nonchalant even though he's absolutely ecstatic, but like... the boy is literally vibrating with excitement okay, he's not fooling anyone lol

💎 Once the big day comes and you show up to his house— sorry, MANSION? Prepare yourself cuz he is most definitely giving a tour. From the indoor pool, to the outdoor pool, to the personal studio/production room, to the many walk-in closets, to a room that is literally just one big ball pit, to a heigh-ceiling hallway just lined with photos/painting of him and his sister... he is NOT afraid to show off asdkajsdlkhjf

💎 (Sidenote: don't worry about Velvet potentially intruding on the sleepover. She's agreed to step out for the day on her brother's behalf. Was definitely pretty pissy about having to vacate her own home but eventually relented... but Veneer definitely owes her for her kindness)

💎 Yknow all those cliche sleepover activities people do in movies? Yeah, you guys are doing literally all of them

💎 Such a dumbass <33

💎 NO LIKE ACTUALLY THO?? Krimp made Veneer a list of popular and totally optional things to do at a sleepover and the second he saw it, he was just like "uugh, seems like a lot of work but I GUESS I'll do it 🙄"

💎 You guys are painting your nails matching colors, doing facemasks, messing around with each others' hair— the whole shebang!! And considering this dude is rich as fuck, you just KNOW he's got nothing but all the top-of-the-line products 😤😤. Only the finest for him (and you <33)

💎 LET HIM DO YOUR MAKEUP!! I feel like he really enjoys it as a whole! Like it's probably his favorite part of getting ready for shows or just his day in general, and the only person he's done makeup for is Velvet (tho those instances were VERY rare)... but if you just? Suggest that he does yours for you?? Like just sitting back so he can do his thing, allowing him to call the shots like he rarely ever does???

💎 Literally swooning SO HARD ASLDHKALKJSJDLKJA

💎 Unfortunately the whole thing kinda backfires on him cuz: 1) you're already super cute without makeup, and 2) he knows what he's doing and could easily boost someone's looks with just some eyesliner and the right shade of lipstick

💎 He makes you look hotter, is basically what I'm getting at

💎 He's not sure if he's just done himself a huge favor or screwed himself over for the rest of the night

💎 Considering his crazy wealth and the fact he probably grew up pretty sheltered/spoiled, I doubt this boy knows anything about how a kitchen works lol. Like most of his meals were either made for him by Krimp or served at high-end hoity-toity restaurants with caviar that probably cost more than most organs sell on the black market ://

💎 So yeah, dinner is really gonna come down to you and your skill level

💎 If you know you're away around, CONGRATS!! You've just signed yourself up for cooking lessons with Veneer! And yes, the kitchen WILL end up a mess (but no worries, he'll just make Krimp clean it up). You'll definitely have to take the lead here and he's more than happy to let you do so! Just tell him what spices you need or what utensil to grab, and his ass is on it 🫡 If you wanna teach him how to knead dough or peel certain ingredients?? He won't complain (especially if said activity requires you two to be in close proximity hehe)

💎 Do NOT leave him alone in the kitchen for more than 10 seconds. You'll just return to find him trying to cut strawberries with the dull side of a knife u_u

💎 If you're also total shit in the kitchen?? No worries! Veneer may be living that high life but he's not above ordering takeout lol

💎 Remember those chick flicks I mentioned earlier? Yeah, you two are totally running a marathon of those. If you happen to have any good recs or other movies you happen to like?? He's totally willing to give them a try! Just know that if it's a scary movie… he's gonna be wrapped around you like a koala and screaming into your ear at every jumpscare

💎 He may be talentless but this boy can hit a high note if he feels he's in danger

💎 He may be different from his sister in some ways, but one attribute he shares with her is the fact that he's a TOTAL GOSSIP LIKE?? THIS BOY IS MORE THAN PREPARED TO SPILL THE TEA ON ANY GIVEN OCCASION—

💎 "Oh my gosh, did you HEAR about what happened to Nikki Mirage the other day??"

"No? Wait, who's that again?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO--- okay, sit down so I can educate you 😤"

💎 Him and Velvet literally thrive on drama, idk what else to tell you

💎 (he might also spill some tea about his sister... nothing too incriminating, but like, a few embarrassing childhood stories couldn't hurt, right?)

💎 Late night talks are a MUST!! At some point in the night the two of you end up like... nestled under the covers of whatever fort you guys threw together... you're facing each other, heads centimeters apart as you share a pillow... whispering and giggling for no real reason...

💎 Maybe he vents a little about his insecurities and the way Velvet treats him, less like a brother and more like a shadow she can manipulate as she pleases... and maybe you grab his hand under the blanket... yknow, just to comfort him or whatever...

💎 Veneer only ever gets physical affection when he visits his parents, and even then it's just like? The bare minimum?? Pats on the head/shoulder/back, brief hugs, chaste kisses on his cheek— that kinda crap. And it's so tragic cuz this boy is literally the biggest little spoon to ever spoon. Like actually pls just hold him

💎 If he wakes up the next morning to find you laying behind him? Arms wound around his middle?? You face burried against his neck/shoulder blades/top of his head????

💎 He is not moving from that spot even after you wake up too <33

Cannibal, I absolutely ADORE YOU FOR THIS ASK!! LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE SAKLJASADKJSD THANK YOU SO MUCH <3333 (was originally gonna split this into two parts but was like, "nah, this ask deserves to be hella long" uwu)

Veneer redemption arc when??

[sandwich2451]

okay so i finally watxhed te first 2 eps of pjo and although i love it its so fun and silly and incredible i have a bone to pick

i recently reread the lightning thief in preparation (as in a week ago) and i remember how percy describes his life. and in pjo everything is just incredibly glamorized - yancy academy looks like a museum to be honest, and i dont think sally and gabe have the money for it; mr bruner is really nice to percy??? i dont understand why??? nd grover also is supercool??? like in the books they gaslight percy for months on end with seemingly no remorse and mr bruner keeps telling percy he expects better but somehow this all doesnt get into the show

the biggest problem i have, though, is camp halfblood. I'm watching w 2 friends and when we saw the infirmary we were genuinely all shocked bc HELLO??? GLASS IN LEAD WINDOWS??? this is a summer camp that gives demigods a hundred bucks to get to the other side of the US I'm sorry but they do not simply have glad in lead windows no its false its fake news im sorry

the worst thing, to me though, is how glamorized the cabins are. look i read those descriptions alright and hermes should be crammed as fuck. as in you move a leg and suddenly you're poking someone's eye out. the ceilings should be low and make everything claustrophobic. poseidon's cabin is literally described to be simple and have low ceilings and be made of stone w shells (forgive me i cant remember the english term for it) but somehow every cabin has lots of room and every cabin has super heigh ceilings and those stupid windows... like no honey thats not a camp thats a cheapened olympus. i love the series but i just have a big problem with how much glamorization has gone into basically everything

[cilil]

Hiiii I’ve been following you on ao3 but I found you here as well:)

Can I ask you would you write a short story about Maedhros X Thuringwethil?

I know it’s a very rare ship😂

𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆

AN: Sure! A short story it is indeed (hope nobody is disappointed) - I've just been playing around with some ideas and would be down to revisit this plot line sometime in the future; not right now, though, as I'll be quite busy the next few months x) Anyway: Enjoy!

.☾. Pairings: Maedhros x Thuringwethil; implied/background Melkor x Mairon .☾. Synopsis: Whenever they're not being watched, Thuringwethil sneaks into the dungeons of Angband to see her favorite Elven prince - and secret lover. .☾. Warnings: Implied violence/torture, injuries (not too graphic), blood, blood drinking, vampiric Maiar .☾. AO3

A scream echoed through the hallway. 

Thuringwethil's ears twitched, alert. Could it be his voice? She hoped so, and at the same time that it was not. It would be a sign that he still had the strength to scream, but she didn't want him to be in pain. 

With bated breath, hidden in the shadows of Angband's heigh ceilings where she perched, she waited for her Maiarin brethren to exit the dungeons so she could check on him. Her prince. Her favourite. 

Wings folded, claws digging into tiny cracks within the stone that she had grown to know intimately, she waited. It took hours, but Thuringwethil had to be patient; it had to be safe to go or else she would risk both of them being punished. Her master had seen her prince's beauty as well and didn't like others coming near him; hopefully Mairon kept him too busy to watch his favourite captive all the time. 

When all had left and she sensed no more Maiar nearby, Thuringwethil descended from her vantage point, swift and silent. Gliding through the shadows with ease, she retraced paths and steps she had long since memorised, would find in her sleep if she had to; especially once she caught his scent. Faint it was these days and often laced with the smell of blood and fear, yet that only made her crave it more. 

It was a dark and lonely cell they kept him in, deep within the fortress and away from even the other prisoners. Thuringwethil willed her fána to become formless for a moment, allowing her to pass through indestructible iron bars, and appeared in front the Noldorin prince trapped inside. 

Maedhros was chained to the wall as usual, though through some miracle somebody appeared to have granted him the mercy of loosening his chains enough for him to sit. He was hunched over, a shadow of the proud, glorious prince who had made Thuringwethil's heart beat faster when the Balrogs brought him in, and his head hung low, red locks obscuring his face. 

"My love," she whispered, kneeling in front of him. "My love, I have returned." 

Slowly, Maedhros raised his head. He seemed tired, but his blue eyes regained their usual gleam when he saw her, relieved that it was the one being in this fortress who wouldn't hurt him. Not on purpose at least; Thuringwethil had bitten him by accident a few times. 

"Be careful," he rasped, "Sauron was here earlier–" 

She recoiled. She knew of course which names the Elves had taken to calling her master and her peers, but to hear them spoken in front of her remained jarring.

"You must not use such names here," Thuringwethil cautioned. "They will punish you if they hear." 

"More than they already do?" Defiance lit up his face for a moment, then it was gone again. Maedhros sighed. 

"Call him what you wish, but the fact is that he visited earlier and I fear he may return in time." 

"Don't worry," Thuringwethil moved closer to wrap her wings around him. "He has sought out our master for the night. We won't see him here for a while." 

Maedhros made a low noise of disgust upon hearing this news, but leaned into Thuringwethil's touch as she cupped his cheeks with both hands. There were a few fresh wounds on him, she could see them clearly now; scratch marks across his face, neck and chest. His earlier encounter with Mairon had to have gone as well as one would expect from a jealous Maia who despised incarnates. 

"Let me take care of you," she said gently, bringing their foreheads together. 

"Hungry?" Maedhros retorted, flashing her a crooked smile. 

He was beautiful when he smiled. Thuringwethil wished she could see it more often. 

"For you? Always," she admitted shamelessly and pulled him closer with her wings, pressing her body against his. 

Maedhros let her. He never fought back when she wanted to touch him or drink from him, and Thuringwethil adored him for it. A willing victim, especially one as pretty as him, was always a special treat. 

She licked the scratches on his face first, carefully tracing them with her tongue. There was still some fresh blood underneath, flowing into her mouth as she cleaned his wounds. His neck was next, and she had to stop herself from biting down when her lips caressed the soft, vulnerable skin of his throat and felt veins pulsing underneath. She could easily kill him if she lost control, and sometimes she felt as if he wouldn't mind that; though perhaps less because it was her and more so because it would allow him to escape this place. 

Thuringwethil shook off the thought. It wasn't like she could blame him for it — if she was trapped like he was, she might feel the same. In fact she herself had been trapped and lost once upon a time, and her master had rescued her, though she couldn't remember what had happened. 

Gentle, she tugged at the collar of Maedhros' tunic to expose one of his shoulders and began licking the wounds on his chest, right above his heart. He let his head fall back and was breathing deeply, enjoying the sensation of her warm tongue's rhythmic strokes. 

"Thuri..." His voice sounded rough, almost desperate, and it sent a shudder through the Maia. It felt as though something inside her lower body twisted into a knot, desperate to be undone, and Thuringwethil lifted her head, eyes dark with desire. 

She kissed him then, her beautiful prince, and tasted his blood — from her own tongue or from his, she couldn't tell. Maedhros' lips were dry and chapped, yet when he kissed her back she felt enraptured; she could imagine how amazing he would feel and taste if he wasn't chained up in her master's dungeon, but instead living in a palace or a forest full of trees and sunlight, the ones his kind loved so much. For him, she would even go to such a place. 

Thuringwethil withdrew to let him breathe, caressing his hair in the meantime. "I am so glad to have found you," she whispered, "yet even so, I wish things could be different. I would offer to set you free if I had the power, but I owe my master my life and he is much greater and stronger than any other of our kind." 

Maedhros shook his head. "You forget that I am oath-bound to reclaim my father's jewels which are now set in your master's crown. Even if you freed me, where would I go? Even if I fled, which path would I take that wouldn't inevitably lead me back here?" 

"So even after all this time you insist that you must suffer and ruin yourself for the sake of your dead father?" 

Maedhros leaned forward, letting his lips brush against hers once more. "Forgive me, my love, but out of all beings on Arda I hoped that a Maia would understand." 

Wordlessly, Thuringwethil nodded. It was true, her kind knew all too well how it was to be bound by fate and oaths of fealty. Maedhros couldn't betray his father just like she couldn't betray her master, and even if they could never be together outside of secret rendezvous and stolen moments, this fate they would share, for good and for ill. But for a few precious moments even that would be meaningless, as she lost herself in another kiss. 

Thanks for reading! Thuringwethil's "debt" to Melkor is a reference to my general headcanons for her (tldr: She got lost in the Void and he found her), but whether you want to go along with that or assume he deceived her about her past and took advantage is up to you ;)

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @urwendii

[allurilove]

I love husband. He’s so pookie

It’s also interesting to find out he likes Brutalist style. I myself love Art Nouveau, so it’d be interesting to see how the decoration of the house looks like

Can’t wait to see new life with baby girl. He’s adorable showing his family side

Art nouveau is actually so pretty, and i’m so upset that Husband would be the type of person to completely strip it of any personality. He would buy a house with beautiful architecture and interior because he likes the area or whatever, and then change it to a grey rectangular building with one window.

If the inside and out was dark, moody, and has heigh ceilings— he would be in love with the house like immediately. He would implement a bit of red pieces into his house ifykyk.

When he lived alone his place sort of looks like the images above. But now that he’s married, and has kids, and a partner with different tastes… he would be fine living in a house that doesn’t have the brutalist interior. His study is more of what he likes though, and it’s his little space that he goes to relax.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

The Agenda Today

A Lloyd Hansen Mini Series

PART TWO

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 2.3K

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST | PART THREE

00:00

First it was the distant sound of ocean waves. The hush as the waves rolled in, then the soft crashing sound as they collapsed to the earth. 

Then it was the buzzing. An incessant kind of buzzing. Almost as if it was in your ear, but it wasn’t. Not really. The buzzing too was distant, but nearer. 

And then it was the pain. A dull yet throbbing sensation on the side of your forehead. You winced, fluttering your eyes open. 

The first thing you noticed was the ceiling. It was thatched, supported by wooden beams. Then it was the sheer white curtains, or netting, that lined the sides. You raised yourself onto your elbows. 

When you did the pain returned & you hissed, touching your head. But it was what felt like gauze that you felt. What the…

Then everything came flooding back—

Three men. Wanda screaming. The villa being shattered to pieces by gunfire. Shehu.

Gracie…

“RUN!”

Panic surged through you, shooting you to your feet. The sudden movement made you dizzy, causing your feet to tangle & trip over the layered rugs. The pain in your knees, & head, were long forgotten as you shakily moved forward. 

The netting parted easily at your frantically waving hands.

“Gracie..” You muttered, your vision swaying slightly. 

Though you were unsure of your surroundings in your discombobulated state, you could make out that you were outside. Somewhere that wasn’t the villa. You stumbled forward, seeing a set of stairs at the edge of the space.

You barely reached the top of them when your legs gave out again, your hands this time catching your fall. But your strength was diminishing fast. You rolled onto your side, groaning out Gracie’s name.

As your breathing slowed & darkness lined the edge of your vision, you saw a blurred figure appear at the end of the stairs. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” A voice that sounded muffled came from the figure. The figure moved toward you, taking the stairs slowly. You could vaguely make out a deep chuckle as the toes of the finely polished dress shoes reached the top of the stairs, standing just before your face. 

“Tsk tsk tsk.” Then the figure crouched, a somewhat familiar face coming in & out of focus as you fought to stay awake. 

The man behind the mustache smiled pitifully at you, “You shouldn’t overexert yourself so soon.”

“You…” But nothing more came, you were fading. 

“Yes. Me.” He grinned wolfishly, “You’ll know plenty about me soon enough, darlin’.”

Then much to your misery, darkness successfully consumed you.

The second time you woke, you managed to stay awake. 

You were in the same space you woke up before. This time you took in your surroundings. It was a patio of some sort, it seemed. You were lying on a U-shaped couch that only stood 3-4 inches off the floor. 

The air was thick & warm, tasted like salt. You were still near the ocean, that much gave you very little relief, any of which you would take at this time. 

When you stood, you took your time, not wanting to repeat your earlier spell of fainting. Once you calmed your senses, you slowly rose to your feet & following in your previous venture to the stairs, recalling them easily.

This time no one stood at the bottom of them. Before you went down, you sped-walked to the edge of the patio. It was only then that you realized you weren’t on a patio, not a typical one anyway. Judging by the roofing just below the hip-heigh wall, you had to be on some rooftop deck. 

You observed the environment. There were many palm trees. Peering through them enough you could make out a beach in the not too far distance. On the ground a story below were other thatched roofs, covering tables, loungers, even a pool table. 

Gracie had to be here somewhere… but why were you?

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

You spun around. 

It was him again. The mustache. 

“Where is she?” You spit, stepping forward.

“Where is who?”

“Gracie! Where is she? What did you do?”

“Why nothing.” The man smirked knowingly at you before crossing from the stairs to the couch that you woke up from. 

Your eyes gazed at the stairs, an escape. But you didn’t know what may wait for you below…

“Go ahead, if you like.” Mustache said, lounging comfortably the couch, one leg propped on the other. He nodded toward the stairs, “Really. I’ll give you a head start.”

Your instinct to run crushed a moment later by a twinkling sadistic look in his eyes. “Give me something fun to do.”

The breath in your lungs was thin as you exhaled. Torn. Scared. 

“Please just tell me she’s okay.” You pressed your lips together in worry, inching cautiously toward the couch.

Mustache peered up at you with a mirthful glint. He continued to observe you as you moved to sit across from him. It made your skin crawl. 

After he stared at you, unwaveringly so, for what felt like an eternity, he finally sighed, “She’s okay.”

A sigh of relief escaped you, picturing her somewhere breathing, unharmed, alive. But she was still being held captive by this man. Whoever he was.

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking in his attire. A slim fitting dark navy polo that emphasized the size of his arms tucked into a pair of khaki pants finishing off with the same polished loafers that had entered your vision earlier. Your nose crinkled in distaste.

You didn’t like him.

“Done checkin’ me out?”

“Who are you?” You ignored his comment, crossing your arms, “Why am I here? Why aren’t I dead?”

“Geesh. One question at a time, will ya?” 

You glared at him pointedly. He chuckled, frankly amused. 

“You can call me Lloyd.”

“Okay, Lloyd.” Even his name you disliked, “Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, why not, I suppose.” A jovial grin splitting his face wide open, “But the 200 million I’ve been offered certainly makes a difference.”

200 million? You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping. 

“For what? Why?” Why Gracie? You hadn’t voiced that last question, scared of what the answer might be. There were very bad horrible people in this world, & you were positive one of them was sitting directly across from you. 

“Tell me, nanny, do you know what your employer does?” 

Raj? 

You swallowed, suddenly questioning everything you knew about Raj West. 

“He’s an engineer.” But your voice shook as you said it. You knew it was more than that. But when you got hired you had signed a lot of forms that would keep you silent about his activities, comings & goings, etc, & when words like ‘safe house’, ‘security measures’ became regular vocabulary in your training, you knew you were going to be working for someone who did something dangerous.

But that was all speculation on your part. You had never asked Raj about his work on the stints when he was home & he never spoke about it, let alone brought it back with him. 

Until now.

“Ya sure that’s the answer you want to go with?” Lloyd’s brows wiggled excitedly.

“It’s the only answer I know.” You replied firmly, “If it’s anything else I never knew about it.”

Lloyd grunted curiously at that. “I find that hard to believe, nanny.”

Your heart panged. Before you could inquire further, Lloyd slipped a phone out of his pants pocket, did some quick tapping on it before tossing it across the space to you. 

“You’re his mistress after all.”

The contents of the phone consisted of voyeuristic images of you & Raj. In bed. 

You closed your eyes, tossing the phone to the couch. 

“Oh, don’t be shy now.” Lloyd teased, “You certainly like to have fun in private.”

“You’ve been watching us. Those were taken months ago.” You recalled Raj’s final night before he left for the UK. The two of you had stumbled into his bedroom after a few glasses of wine & meaningful conversation. The first time was an accident—a year into your employment—but every time after was with purpose. 

“Well, if I’m gonna kidnap his little girls I oughta know about the man.” Lloyd leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch, his legs spread, establishing that he’s alpha. 

“What do you want? A little girl? Really?” It was disgusting. You shouldn’t be surprised, you couldn’t be, but you were. 

“I want my money. And I will get my money when Mr. West finishes the job.”

“What job?”

Lloyd’s laughter this time began deep & low until it was vocal, permeating the warm air with his callousness. “Oh, honey. You really don’t know who you work for, do you?”

“Then tell me.” You challenged, “Not like I can do anything about it.”

“Right you are, but I think I enjoy watching you try to piece everything together.”

You shook your head, already growing tired of this man who quite clearly got off on playing mind games. You felt your nostrils flare at your next question, “Can I see Gracie?”

“Hmm…” Lloyd pondered that for a moment. Whether or not he was actually thinking about it, you doubted he was. He seemed like the kind of man that had an answer prepared for everything question asked. 

“No.” He flashed you a toothy smile, “But perhaps another time.”

Then he stood. You quickly followed suit, “Why am I even here if I can’t be with her?”

Lloyd ignored your question, “Would you rather be dead?”

The abruptness, & threatening nature, if the question left you speechless. 

Lloyd’s eyes cooly overlooked your form before landing on your dumbfounded face, “Didn’t think so.”

“But Gracie—“

“Is fine. And if you’re good, you’ll see her.” He gestured toward the stairs, “I promise.”

Though you knew next to nothing about this man, you knew promises didn’t mean shit.

“Now follow me & I will show you to your room.”

You stood staring at him, suspicious. A room? Like he was putting you up in a hotel for vacation? Like this was fun? Wanted? 

What was he up to?

Reluctantly though, you followed him down the stairs to a first floor bungalow. Much to your surprise, there was no one waiting. As you continued to follow Lloyd through the small building, you kept an eye out for the other two men from the attack.

“You can’t see them but they can always see you.” Lloyd commented over his shoulder. Goosebumps erupted across your exposed skin.

It was only then that you realized what you were wearing. A loose fitting mint-green summer dress covered you. You stopped in your tracks, can’t believing you hadn’t realized you weren’t in your old, let alone, normal clothes. But considering your predicament you allowed yourself a reprieve. 

“How did I…” You couldn’t finish the question, staring wide-eyes at Lloyd’s back as he paused in his movement to face you.

When he understood what you were referring to, a knowing smirk appeared beneath his ridiculous mustache. “I figured you’d like this better, considering the slightly warmer climate change.”

“Who…who changed me?”

Lloyd’s eyes glimmered, “Me, of course.”

A nauseating feeling overcame you at the thought if this man having his eyes & hands on you naked in an unconscious state.

As if he knew exactly what you were fearing, he rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, nanny. You’re not my type. I prefer them awake, sometimes willing.”

You guffawed at what he implied. 

“Please.” He gripped you firmly by the upper arm, dragging you outside with him, “You know me well enough by now to not be surprised.”

You hated that he was right.

The small hut he showed you consisted of two rooms. There were no doors upon the first room, which could be considered a foyer, but to the right was a small bathroom, & then straight ahead through a set of double doors was a bedroom. 

It was simple enough. A queen size bed with white sheets, area rug, small closet, & a dresser. No windows. 

After you surveyed the room, you checked the locks on the door. There were none. 

“Can’t trust you.” Lloyd shared as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze narrowing in delight, “I’m sure you understand.”

“Right.” You muttered, “Because I’m the one who kidnapped you.”

You walked over to the dresser, catching yourself in a small mirror above the furniture piece. You looked wrecked. Tired. Hopeless. But you weren’t, couldn’t be. Not when Gracie depended on you. 

“Am I to assume you wouldn’t kill me in a second if you had the chance?” Lloyd prodded.

“Not at least until I know where Gracie is.” You carelessly responded.

Movement in the reflection made you turn around & back up. Lloyd slowly stepped up to you, but left a few inches of space. When he stood directly in front of you, your eyes were level with his chest. 

“Besides,” You began, looking up to meet his domineering gaze, “I’m not stupid enough to think I could take you anyway. Unfortunately for us, this appears to be a long game that we’ve no choice but to participate in.”

Lloyd raised a single brow. “You’re smarter than you look.”

Any words you were about to say escaped you when he moved closer, trapping you against the dresser & his immovable body. Both his hands gripped the edge of the dresser, effectively locking you in. 

You felt yourself shake, licking your suddenly dry lips in regretful fear. The hairs on the top of your head tickled with the exhaling of his breath. He remained standing over you. But he never touched you. 

At that point you were sure he could hear the pounding of your heart. You imagined he was enjoying the sound of it. You bit your lip, your fingers digging into the fabric of your dress, trying to fight the claustrophobia feeling he was imposing upon you. 

“A smart woman is a dangerous woman.” Lloyd said, every word sending unpleasant tingles down your spine, “And a dangerous woman is a dead woman.”

The threat was clear. 

“I suggest you remember that, nanny.” 

So, a much shorter entry than my usual updates but that's because it was a lot of plot building via dialogue. Next part will be longer, I promise!

As always, please tell what you think. Ask box is lookin' empty, & I love a good comment or reblog. Regardless, thank you for reading, & I hope to return with part three relatively soon.

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[daylightisminetoconsume]

Gunmar's cries were answered, he was given care. The blade that pierced him was, in fact, little more than a common sword from the armory, save for the fact one of the guards recognized the bite marks on the handle. The sword, it seemed belonged to another of the thrall number, one who did not arrive to relieve their fellow and take their post, and in fact, had not been seen in a while. Once again time passed. During this Gunmar would hear reports of two more warriors having mysteriously vanished with no rhyme, reason, or trace... Was this the work of Orlagk? Was he sending Gunmar a message, picking off his numbers bit by bit? Trying to whittle him down and BREAK him? Whatever the answer it may have to be theorized while on the highest of alert, because no sooner had Gunmar been given the report, there was the sound of a loud crack high above. Up the top of the heigh-vaulted ceiling, a significantly large segment of stone stalactite suddenly came loose, and was falling with alarming speed right towards the Dark Underlord!!

Gunmar sensed the danger at once and dove out of the way, landing into a shoulder roll.

He stared in disbelief at the pile of rubble where he'd been standing just a few moments before, his teeth coming together in a click.

"YOU WON'T HAVE ME, ORLAGK!" Gunmar bellows out into the darkness, "You couldn't break me then and you won't now!"

[gnostotron]

A smattering of applause followed the song's final chord, slowly replaced by the murmur of conversations picked up from where they'd temporarily been put aside.  In the corner of the common room the dwarven bard Grundig perched on a stool, taking a moment to appreciate her work.

Performing was like mining, she'd always thought - you may think you've won over the audience and that the rest of the night will be easy going but if you get cocky the ceiling will collapse on you, or maybe just knife you and steal your lute.  Or that's what she assumed mining was like - she'd never held a pickaxe and would certainly like the idea of mining more if it didn't involve so much dirt. Idly she tuned her lute, taking the measure of the audience.

"Thank you. Now I'd like to play a song that's deeply personal." She bent her head, tuning a string imperceptibly sharper. Her voice, quiet before, became confessional, almost reluctant.  "I've traveled  across much of this world; I've seen cities of made of stone and wood, cities made of ice, and once a city made of coloured silks that rippled in the breeze like the sails of a vast armada.  I've seen mountains and oceans and vast plains and even though this life is sometimes hard, dangerous even, it has always, every day, shown a new wonder." Tentatively she plucked a chord, frowned lightly and minutely adjusted another string.  The audience was silent. "But sometimes, sometimes your home calls to you, across the years and leagues.  And you'd throw everything aside and rush back there but in your heart you know that the home you returned to would not be the one you left, because even if it was the same, you're not - you've been changed, transformed by time and the world."

She gently plucked another chord, her voice almost a whisper. "And maybe it's not actually home that you want to run back to - maybe what you really want is to return to the version of you that existed before life wore you down, before it hurt, before it filled with regrets.  And deep down you know that young, perfect you is lost forever."

"So I wrote this song and I sing it when I long for home, and I know the longing is for something I can never have, and know the longing will never leave me."

Grundig sank over her lute, eyes closed.  The crowd was frozen, rapt.  Some bards lived for the applause, Grundig lived for this moment; the anticipation that borders on ecstasy. She held it, was held by it, and the entire room was like a single beautiful crystal, resonating with a note she hadn't yet sung.  Then, when it seemed the moment was about to break, she took a deep breath and sang

"Heigh-hooooooooooo!"