#upholstered curved bench

[lilmissjbstyle]

Traditional Kitchen in Atlanta Inspiration for a large timeless l-shaped dark wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel with stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, raised-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, an island and white countertops

[impala-dreamer]

Peace and Quiet & No One Else Around

A Short Story

Glen Powell x Reader

Requested by @deanwinchesterswitch for my Cozy Drabbles

1,246 Words (oops)

NSFW, Smut on a train!, Cozy Romance

Cozy Drabbles ‘24 Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The cabin rocks gently as the countryside whizzes past in a flurry of orange and gold. The November air is cold but the vents by the window push heat through, fogging up the base of the glass. It’s a vignette that frames the scenery, focusing your attention on the autumn colors and stillness of the world. 

The book in your hand goes unread, and you sink a little deeper into relaxation. The blanket is heavy and warm, and the pillow behind you is firm but perfect. It sighs, and you can hear the beat of its heart. 

Glen shifts slightly as you take up more space on the long bench seat. 

“Comfy?” he asks, a grin on his lips and in his voice. 

Wiggling closer, you turn and put your feet up against the wall. The window is in full view now and you let out a happy sigh. “Not bad. You?” 

A gentle laugh vibrates through his chest. “Would be, except this sloth keeps pushing me off the seat.” 

Gasping in fake offense, jump up and turn to face him. “Sloth?” Hands on your hips, the book and blanket fall to the floor. “You wanted to take this trip and now I’m stuck on a train for hours with nothing to do. Don’t call me a sloth for relaxing!” 

His smile is bright, reaching right up to his entrancing blue-green eyes. “You’re right,” he concedes, reaching for your arm. His hand slides slowly down to yours and he squeezes tight. 

“This was my idea…” 

“Exactly.” 

All play melts as he brings your hand to his lips and kisses you sweetly. 

Dimples pop. The charm is thick. “Come back. I’m cold.” 

“Fine.” 

Grabbing the blanket from the floor, you lie back down, this time resting your head in his lap. His left arm settles on your waist and everything is calm again. 

“This is nice though, isn’t it?” he asks, pressing his head back against the upholstered seat. “Nothing to do… peace and quiet… no one else around…” 

An idea prickles in your head and you push your fingers through his. “It is…” 

“Beautiful scenery…”

Gently, you rub your fingertips over the back of his hand and through and around each digit, massaging lightly and intently. You always loved his hands. “Mhm.” 

“Beautiful girl…” 

A shudder of desire strikes as his voice washes over you. Lifting his hand to your lips, you slowly kiss the pad of each finger. 

He hums in appreciation and shifts down a little closer. 

“Nice and warm…” 

Parting your lips, you gently suck in the tip of his middle finger. 

A slight moan rumbles through him. “Damn, baby.” 

Looking up at him, you bring his finger fully into your mouth. As his breath halts, you roll your tongue against his finger and then suck hard as you pull it back out. 

His eyes flutter and his bottom lip drops. 

Another pull on his finger and he squirms in his seat. He moans a little louder and you drag his index finger inside as well. 

“You’re walkin’ down a dangerous road, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick and slow. 

Staring at him, you swallow around his fingers and then let them go, sliding them from your wet lips. “Thought you said no one was around?”

He inhales deeply, struggling to fight the surge of arousal your touch brings. “I did.” 

You grin seductively. “So why not enjoy the quiet with me?” 

Quickly, Glen looks over his shoulder, ensuring the cabin door is locked and no one can be seen passing by the small window. Satisfied, he realizes that he’s very much not, and pulls his hand from yours. 

The train approaches a turn around the mountain and gently curves to the left as Glen sneaks his hand into your shirt. His fingers are still wet and he rubs them across your nipple, sending sparks right to your clit. 

Your moan urges him on and he pinches the bud hard. 

“Fuck…” You squirm on the bench seat and close your thighs tight. The pressure makes your pussy throb and you close your hand around his wrist. 

“Hey,” he teases, twisting gently. “You started this…” 

“V-very true…” 

Another tweak of his fingers and your jaw drops as pleasure spreads. You can feel each touch in your pussy as if he was working down there as well. 

“So shut up and enjoy.”

Leaning over, he captures your top lip in a wet kiss. He paws at each breast, tugs both nipples, and watches in lustful fascination as your hips buck into the empty air. 

The train moves swiftly through the countryside, filling the window with a strobe of evening light. Gold flashes off the trees and the sky begins to fade. 

Inside, you’re losing your mind, blanking out completely as Glen uses your body as his toy. He licks into your mouth as his fingers caress the soft inner folds of your pussy; he groans, low and dark as he dips his fingers into your wetness. You can feel his cock press hard into your shoulder as he leans over you, and your mouth waters for him. 

Pushing his hands away, you flip over and earn yourself a surprised moan. 

“Where you goin’?” he asks, eyes mere slits, lips ruddy and wet. 

You bite your lip and whimper while reaching for his zipper. “Wanna suck you so bad…”

His tongue presses against his teeth and sucks in a deep breath. Without a word, he lifts his hips and tugs his jeans down. His briefs are marled gray and you can already see a damp spot where he’s leaked for you. 

The sight turns you on even more and it’s mere seconds before you have him in your mouth, wetting his shaft with your warm saliva before pulling back with a kiss. 

He exhales a deep moan. “Fuck, Y/N…” 

“Mhm…” 

It’s a moan around his cock, a vibration from your lips, and Glen pushes his head back against the wall as his body floods with tight pleasure. It builds deep inside as you worship his cock with sloppy kisses and fluttering flicks of your tongue. He grabs the back of your neck, guiding you deeper, moving you faster, until he’s jerking his hips up into your face and you can barely take it any longer. Your body is shaking with need, your cunt dripping and aching. 

“Please-” You pull back and look up at him with desperate, wide eyes. “Please fuck me.” 

He drags your face up to his and kisses you hard, nearly knocking you over while you try to get rid of your jeans. He grips the back of your head, massages your tongue with his, and hums deep into the core of you. 

Another turn of the tracks and you’re in his lap, lowering yourself down onto his stiff cock. It’s warm and thick and fills you so intensely that your entire body shudders. 

His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close while he rocks up into you. The rhythm of the rails and the pulse of his hips merge and your muscles tighten around him. 

It’s breathless and warm and over too soon. 

Exhausted, you fall into each other's arms, rearranged on the long bench seat beneath the blanket. 

“You know something?” 

Glen sighs and hugs you closer, lays a kiss on your forehead. “What’s that?” 

“I think I like trains now.” 

He laughs, full and happy. “Told ya.”

[pureorangejuicefromconcentrate]

ive spent a weird amount of time procrastinating by just reading random Wikipedia articles about stuff im wandering about.

like for example did you know that the chair is one of the basic pieces of furniture, a chair is a type of seat. Its primary features are two pieces of a durable material, attached as back and seat to one another at a 90° or slightly greater angle, with usually the four corners of the horizontal seat attached in turn to four legs—or other parts of the seat's underside attached to three legs or to a shaft about which a four-arm turnstile on rollers can turn—strong enough to support the weight of a person who sits on the seat (usually wide and broad enough to hold the lower body from the buttocks almost to the knees) and leans against the vertical back (usually high and wide enough to support the back to the shoulder blades). The legs are typically high enough for the seated person's thighs and knees to form a 90° or lesser angle.[1][2] Used in a number of rooms in homes (e.g. in living rooms, dining rooms, and dens), in schools and offices (with desks), and in various other workplaces, chairs may be made of wood, metal, or synthetic materials, and either the seat alone or the entire chair may be padded or upholstered in various colors and fabrics.

Chairs vary in design. An armchair has armrests fixed to the seat;[3] a recliner is upholstered and under its seat is a mechanism that allows one to lower the chair's back and raise into place a fold-out footrest;[4] a rocking chair has legs fixed to two long curved slats; a wheelchair has wheels fixed to an axis under the seat.[5]

Etymology

Chair comes from the early 13th-century English word chaere, from Old French chaiere ("chair, seat, throne"), from Latin cathedra ("seat").[6]

History

Main article: History of the chair

Five three-legged chairs around a low-legged table from Sliven 19th Century Lifestyle Museum

Early 20th-century armchair made in eastern Australia, with strong heraldic embellishment The chair has been used since antiquity, although for many centuries it was a symbolic article of state and dignity rather than an article for ordinary use. "The chair" is still used as the emblem of authority in the House of Commons in the United Kingdom[7] and Canada,[8] and in many other settings. In keeping with this historical connotation of the "chair" as the symbol of authority, committees, boards of directors, and academic departments all have a 'chairman' or 'chair'.[9] Endowed professorships are referred to as chairs.[10] It was not until the 16th century that chairs became common.[11] Until then, people sat on chests, benches, and stools, which were the ordinary seats of everyday life. The number of chairs which have survived from an earlier date is exceedingly limited; most examples are of ecclesiastical, seigneurial or feudal origin.[citation needed]

Chairs were in existence since at least the Early Dynastic Period of Egypt (c. 3100 BC). They were covered with cloth or leather, were made of carved wood, and were much lower than today's chairs – chair seats were sometimes only 10 inches (25 cm) high.[12] In ancient Egypt chairs appear to have been of great richness and splendor. Fashioned of ebony and ivory, or of carved and gilded wood, they were covered with costly materials, magnificent patterns and supported upon representations of the legs of beasts or the figures of captives. Generally speaking, the higher ranked an individual was, the taller and more sumptuous was the chair he sat on and the greater the honor. On state occasions the pharaoh sat on a throne, often with a little footstool in front of it.[13]

The average Egyptian family seldom had chairs, and if they did, it was usually only the master of the household who sat on a chair. Among the better off, the chairs might be painted to look like the ornate inlaid and carved chairs of the rich, but the craftsmanship was usually poor.[12]

on wikipedia straight up "learning it". and by "learning it" i mean, lets just say.. information

[affiliate21]

Dining Chairs: An Essential Guide to Comfort, Style, and Functionality

Dining chairs are a vital part of any dining area, providing comfort, enhancing the overall aesthetic, and complementing the dining table. They may seem like simple pieces of furniture, but choosing the right dining chairs can significantly impact your dining experience and the look of your home. In this article, we will explore the history, types, materials, and styles of dining chairs, and provide tips on selecting the perfect set for your dining space.

Dining chairs are very important for a room, and they are needed to decorate the tables. Tablecloths are also very important to decorate the dining tables, so a dining Tablecloth is needed for a dining chair

The History of Dining Chairs

The concept of dining chairs dates back to ancient civilizations, where the most basic forms were simply stools or benches used in communal dining halls. These early designs were simple, made from wood or stone, and lacked any kind of backrest.

During the Middle Ages, dining tables and chairs were often basic and functional. Nobility might have had more ornate versions, but common households used benches or stools for seating. It wasn't until the Renaissance that dining chairs began to take on a more elaborate and comfortable form. With the advent of the Baroque period in Europe, the focus shifted towards comfort and intricate design, featuring upholstered seats, carved wood, and decorative accents.

The Industrial Revolution brought mass production techniques to the furniture industry, making dining chairs more accessible to the average household. Today, dining chairs come in a variety of styles, materials, and price points, catering to different tastes and needs.

Types of Dining Chairs

When it comes to dining chairs, there are numerous types to choose from, each offering unique features and benefits.

Side Chairs

Side chairs are the most traditional and versatile type of dining chair. They have no arms, making them easy to slide under the table when not in use. Their streamlined design allows for maximum seating capacity around the table. Side chairs are available in various styles, from classic wooden designs to modern, upholstered versions.

Armchairs

Dining armchairs come with armrests, offering additional comfort and a more formal look. They are often placed at the head of rectangular dining tables, serving as accent chairs that highlight the ends of the table. Armchairs can also be used as part of a set with side chairs or on their own for a mix-and-match look.

Parsons Chairs

Named after the Parsons School of Design, Parsons chairs are characterized by their sleek, armless design and upholstered seats. They offer a minimalist and elegant look, making them suitable for modern and contemporary dining rooms. Their cushioned seats and backs provide extra comfort, making them a popular choice for long dinners.

Windsor Chairs

Windsor chairs have a distinct design featuring a rounded, spindle-back structure. They are typically made from wood and have a rustic or traditional look, making them a great fit for farmhouse-style dining rooms. The design provides excellent support and comfort due to its curved back and sturdy construction.

Slat-Back Chairs

Slat-back chairs feature vertical or horizontal slats on the backrest, offering both support and ventilation. These chairs have a timeless appeal and are often made from wood. They fit well in both traditional and casual dining settings.

Upholstered Chairs

Upholstered dining chairs have cushioned seats and backs covered with fabric, leather, or faux leather. They offer superior comfort and can be found in various styles, from classic to contemporary. Upholstered chairs add a touch of luxury to any dining space but may require more maintenance, especially with fabric coverings.

Bench Seating

While not technically chairs, benches have become a popular seating option for dining tables. They offer a casual, communal seating arrangement and can accommodate multiple people at once. Benches are versatile and can be paired with side chairs for a mixed seating arrangement.

Materials Used in Dining Chairs

Dining chairs are made from a variety of materials, each offering different advantages in terms of aesthetics, durability, and comfort.

Wood

Wooden dining chairs are classic and timeless, offering a warm and natural look.Wooden chairs can be left natural, stained, or painted, making them versatile for different styles. They are durable and sturdy, making them a great long-term investment.

Metal

Metal dining chairs, often made from steel, iron, or aluminum, are durable and versatile. They can fit into industrial, contemporary, or minimalist decor styles.

Plastic and Acrylic

Plastic and acrylic chairs are modern, lightweight, and affordable. They are often used in contemporary or minimalist dining spaces due to their sleek and simple design. These materials are easy to clean and maintain, making them suitable for families with young children.

Upholstery (Fabric, Leather, Faux Leather)

Upholstered dining chairs offer comfort and a touch of luxury. Fabric options provide a soft, warm feel and come in a wide range of colors and patterns. Leather and faux leather are more durable and easier to clean, offering a sleek and sophisticated look. However, they can be more expensive than fabric options.

Rattan and Wicker

Rattan and wicker chairs have a natural, woven look that adds texture and warmth to a dining space. They are often used in bohemian, coastal, or rustic-themed interiors. While they may not be as durable as metal or wood, they are lightweight and can be easily moved.

Choosing the Right Dining Chairs

Selecting the perfect dining chairs involves considering several factors, such as comfort, style, and the overall functionality of your space.

Style and Design

The style of your dining chairs should complement your dining table and the overall decor of your space. For a cohesive look, choose chairs that match the table in color, material, or style. Alternatively, you can create a more eclectic look by mixing different styles or colors.

Size and Proportion

Ensure that your dining chairs are the right size for your table. There should be at least 12 inches of space between the seat of the chair and the underside of the table for comfortable legroom. Additionally, consider the number of chairs that can fit around your table without overcrowding the space.

Durability and Maintenance

For example, if you have young children or pets, opt for materials like metal, plastic, or leather, which are easier to clean than fabric.

Caring for Your Dining Chairs

Proper maintenance can extend the life of your dining chairs. Here are some care tips:

Metal: Wipe with a dry or damp cloth and avoid using abrasive cleaners.

Upholstery: Vacuum regularly and spot-clean stains as needed. Consider using slipcovers for added protection.

Leather: Wipe with a damp cloth and use a leather conditioner to prevent cracking.

Conclusion

Dining chairs are more than just functional seating; they play a crucial role in defining the style and comfort of your dining area. With the right choice, your dining chairs can enhance the aesthetic of your space and provide a welcoming environment for family and friends. Whether you prefer classic wooden designs, sleek modern options, or cozy upholstered chairs, the perfect dining chair set is out there waiting to complement your home.

[decorworks]

Rest bench by Sebastian Herkner for Wendelbo

Whenever I come across a design I like and would like to share with you, I select an image and save it in a folder to find it later. During the years I collected images in Instagram folders, on Pinterest and in my mail. Now and then I go through them, delete images or select some for upcoming blogs. Today I found this bench designed by Sebastian Herkner for Danish Wendelbo. I am currently painting my kitchen with two colours of the vosgesparis x we are wow makers collaboration with We Are Wow Makers I use two of the three colours in the kitchen and it will be totally different then the overall light kitchen you are used to since I repainted the black backsplash. I can’t wait to show you, ánd all three colours will be available soon, so you can start painting too!  

Rest Bench

Thinking about changes in my kitchen, I come back to my love for soft built-in benches. No wonder the rest bench caught my eye when flipping through my folders! Rest Bench, designed by German Sebastian Herkner consists of upholstered elements that have been pieced together in an elegant harmony bringing a sense of softness to a space. Its curved back, allows to be seated at multiple positions.

  Images by Wendelbo Read the full article

[hollyathayerweb]

Luxury Meets Comfort: Discover the Teal Cotton Velvet Curved Bench

When it comes to adding a touch of luxury and comfort to your living space, the Teal Cotton Velvet Curved Bench stands out as a timeless choice. The allure of teal is undeniable, evoking feelings of tranquility and sophistication in any room it graces. This rich hue adds depth and warmth, creating a welcoming ambiance that is both inviting and stylish. The design elegance of the curved bench is truly captivating. Its graceful silhouette and curved lines exude a sense of sophistication and charm, making it a stunning focal point in any setting. Whether placed at the foot of your bed or in an elegant entryway, this piece effortlessly elevates the aesthetic appeal of your home. What sets this bench apart is not just its striking design, but also its plush comfort. Crafted from sumptuous velvet fabric, it offers a luxurious seating experience that is unmatched in both style and softness. Velvet has long been associated with opulence and decadence, making it the ultimate choice for those who appreciate the finer things in life. Versatile styling options make this bench a versatile addition to any home decor. Whether you prefer a chic bedroom retreat or an elegant entryway statement piece, the teal velvet curved bench seamlessly blends into various design schemes. Pair it with metallic accents for a glamorous look or mix it with natural textures for a more eclectic feel – the possibilities are endless. Quality craftsmanship is evident in every detail of this exquisite piece. Investing in the Teal Cotton Velvet Curved Bench means investing in long-lasting luxury that will stand the test of time. From its sturdy frame to its meticulously upholstered seat, every aspect of this bench speaks to superior quality and durability. In conclusion, if you are looking to infuse your home with a touch of luxury and comfort, look no further than the Teal Cotton Velvet Curved Bench. With its timeless allure, elegant design, plush comfort, versatile styling options, and quality craftsmanship, this bench is sure to become a cherished staple in your home for years to come.

Affordable teal velvet curved bench

[hcfcontractfurniture]

Elevating Comfort and Style: The Timeless Allure of Banquette Seating

In the realm of interior design, banquette seating holds a special place as a versatile and stylish choice for creating inviting and functional spaces. From chic cafes and trendy bistros to elegant dining rooms and cozy breakfast nooks, banquette seating offers a unique combination of comfort, flexibility, and aesthetic appeal that has made it a perennial favorite among designers and homeowners alike. Let's delve into the world of banquette seating and explore its enduring allure in interior design.

Banquette seating, often referred to simply as a "banquette," is a built-in bench or upholstered seating arrangement typically positioned against a wall or in a corner. Characterized by its low backrest and plush cushions, banquette seating offers a cozy and intimate dining experience that encourages lingering conversations and leisurely meals. Whether used in residential or commercial settings, banquette seating adds a touch of sophistication and charm to any space, creating a welcoming atmosphere that invites guests to relax and unwind.

One of the key advantages of Banquette Booth Seating is its versatility and adaptability to different spaces and design styles. Available in a variety of shapes, sizes, and configurations, banquette seating can be customized to fit virtually any layout or floor plan, making it an ideal solution for maximizing seating capacity in small or awkwardly shaped spaces. Whether it's a curved banquette for a cozy corner nook or a straight bench for a sleek and modern dining area, banquette seating can be tailored to suit the unique needs and aesthetics of any space.

Moreover, banquette seating offers practical benefits beyond its aesthetic appeal. By maximizing seating capacity and optimizing floor space, banquette seating is an efficient and space-saving solution for restaurants, cafes, and other commercial establishments where maximizing seating capacity is essential for profitability. Additionally, banquette seating can provide valuable storage space underneath the bench, making it ideal for small apartments or homes where storage is at a premium.

In addition to its functional benefits, banquette seating also adds a touch of elegance and sophistication to any interior design scheme. Whether upholstered in luxurious fabrics, adorned with decorative pillows, or accented with stylish nailhead trim, banquette seating offers endless opportunities for customization and personalization, allowing designers and homeowners to create spaces that reflect their unique tastes and personalities.

Furthermore, Banquette Bench Seating fosters a sense of intimacy and connection among diners, making it an ideal choice for creating memorable dining experiences. Whether enjoying a romantic dinner for two or gathering with family and friends for a festive celebration, banquette seating encourages conversation and camaraderie, fostering a warm and convivial atmosphere that enhances the overall dining experience.

In conclusion, banquette seating is a timeless and versatile choice for creating inviting and stylish spaces in both residential and commercial settings. With its comfort, flexibility, and aesthetic appeal, Corner Booth Seating adds a touch of sophistication and charm to any interior design scheme, making it a favorite among designers and homeowners alike. Whether used in a cozy breakfast nook, an elegant dining room, or a trendy restaurant, banquette seating creates a welcoming atmosphere that invites guests to relax, linger, and enjoy the company of loved ones.

Source Url:- https://sites.google.com/view/hcfcontractfurniturecom142/home

[sofago-go]

Lounge in Style with Foot Stools and Armchairs with Footstools

The Ideal Accessories for Lounging in Style

Ottomans and footstools provide a place to kick up your feet. Oval, rectangular, or square designs fit with any decor.

Leather or fabric upholstered styles complement your existing seating. Match your armchair or sofa.

Storage ottomans allow you to stow blankets, books, or media accessories inside. Keep remotes and devices handy but out of sight.

Stylish and functional options like padded cube ottomans or tufted bench styles double as extra seating.

Look for footstools with features like tilt-top designs to improve ergonomics and built-in massage functions to enhance comfort.

Create an Ideal Lounging Zone with Foot Stools and Armchairs with Footstools

A foot stool or ottoman can instantly elevate your living room from simple seating area to a luxe lounge zone. Foot stools provide the perfect accessory for putting your feet up and getting cozy. Choose from refined designs like tufted cube ottomans or curved bench foot stools that slide discretely under tables when not in use.

Look for foot stools upholstered in plush fabrics like velvet or leather that complement your existing decor. Rich colors and patterns add style while padded cushions ensure comfort. Stylish storage ottomans double as surfaces for trays or decor items, and can discreetly tuck away blankets, media accessories, or books when you're done lounging.

For the ultimate lounge experience, pair an armchair with a matching ottoman footstool. The ergonomic design allows you to kick back with your feet up supported by the footstool. Look for armchair and ottoman sets in on-trend colors and patterns to tie your whole seating area together.

Well-chosen foot stools and armchair with ottoman sets create a cohesive lounge zone that looks as good as it feels. Discover foot stools and armchairs with ottomans designed for optimal relaxation.

Bring ease and style to your lounging with a well-designed ottoman or footstool. Sofa Go-Go offers a wide selection of living room footstools and armchairs with ottomans to create a relaxing space.

[impala-dreamer]

An Exceptional Distraction

A Supernatural Story

~ Stake outs can be extremely boring. Distractions are welcomed, and even helpful in the long run...~

Dean Winchester x Plus!Size Reader, Nameless OMC

1,800 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Public Sexual Activity. Case work.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The place was fancy. Too fancy for the likes of a Winchester, but there he was, sipping an imported beer in a pale green bottle, watching as patrons walked by him without a care in the world. Not that he cared either. There was only one person he was worried about tonight. Alright, maybe two.

Y/N was up at the bar, her short, sparkling blue dress a heavy distraction to all that looked her way. But that was the point. She was bait tonight. And gorgeous bait at that.

She’d been scared almost to come out tonight. Not because of the murderous shifter they were tracking that had been snatching and then gutting women leaving the bar for the past two months, but because of that dress. It was tight, hugging every delicious curve, and she had many- short too, like, crawling up her thick thighs whenever she walked, almost showing-off-the-goods short. She’d been so self conscious that the plan had almost fallen through, but there she was, leaning over the bar with one perfectly round calf popped out, just begging to be ogled.

Dean licked his lips as his eyes grazed over the royal blue dress, especially drawn to the hem. “Fuck.” The distraction carried all the way from his brain to his slacks which tightened as his cock hardened. Sure that no one was watching, he pressed a hand down over his cock and took a sip of beer. “Gonna be a long night,” he muttered.

Long, it was.

After a few hours, it was clear that their mark wasn’t making an appearance that evening. Dean had even followed two suspicious looking guys into the back room only to find them grabbing lustfully at each other.

He’d quickly turned back around.

Y/N sighed and played with the straw in her near-empty drink. Tonic water and lime gave the appearance of a girl looking for fun without actually impairing her facilities. She toyed with the last ice cube and then sat back on the stool, wondering how much longer they’d stick around.

The bartender cleared his throat and Y/N looked up, painted lashes fluttering towards his handsome face.

He smiled and set a drink down in front of her. It was a whiskey, neat.

“From the gentleman in the booth,” he told her, nodding towards the far wall.

A long line of heavily upholstered booths sat along the back wall, each offering a miniscule amount of privacy and a superbly polished marble table to set your drinks upon.

Y/N looked back over her shoulder and the man in the booth raised his beer in salute, inviting her to join him. She thanked the bartender, dropped a twenty onto the counter, and took her drink with her as she sashayed through the growing crowd. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor, her dress sparkled in the dim lights. She looked good, and she knew it. Every pair of eyes turned her way, but only one set held her gaze.

“Mr. Winchester,” she greeted, standing in front of his table. “Thanks for the drink.”

Dean licked his lips and smiled. “Care to join me?”

She lingered, making him hold his breath for an answer. “I don’t know. I’m kinda busy. Working a case…”

“A case,” he teased, raising his brows with mock interest. “What are you?” he asked, leaning forward secretively. “A cop or something?”

Y/N laughed.

“You know if you’re a cop, you have to tell me. Those are the rules.”

Careful not to spill her drink, Y/N sat down in the booth next to him, turning so that her right knee was up on the bench. “He ain’t comin’,” she announced, breaking the game.

Dean nodded and tapped his fingers on the beer bottle. “Yeah. I don’t think he’s comin’ out tonight.” He lifted the beer to his mouth and eyed her over the rim. “Shame he’s gonna miss you in that fabulous dress.”

Heat rose to her cheeks and Y/N rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Dean leaned closer. “I’m serious. You’re quite something. A truly exceptional distraction.” A shiver of arousal lit her spine and she shivered despite her best efforts to ignore it. Dean caught every tiny flinch and grinned. He dropped his hand from the table and set it gently on her bare knee as he sat back, letting the shadow of the booth wash over him. “It’s true. You look incredible.”

Y/N took a deep drink of the whiskey and cringed as it burned her throat. “Yeah, well not enough to attract a monster, I guess.”

Dean shook his head and let his fingers glide down into the soft cushion of her inner thigh. “Don’t talk like that,” he whispered, rolling his head to the side, watching her closely. “You’re beautiful. I’ve been watching you all night and… fuck, I… let’s just say I can’t stand up right now.”

Y/N refused to look at him, but bit her lip at the idea. “Is that right?”

His thumb traced the line of her lace panties. “Sure is. Got me hard as a rock watching you bend over that bar all night. That big, plump ass… these juicy thighs. Fuck… I wanna sink my teeth into you.”

She sucked in a quick breath as his thumb lightly stroked her cunt, pressing in just enough to make her teeth dig down into her lip. “Maybe… maybe we should get outta here and you can.”

Dean threw his arm around her shoulder and scooted closer, turning Y/N until she sat half against his chest. “Oh, I think we’re fine right here, don’t you?” His hand draped down and around, fingertips dancing over her collarbone.

Her eyes darted around the room. “There’s… people, Dean.”

“So?” His hand slipped farther down, into her dress. He tapped her nipple with his middle finger and it sprung up, giving her a jolt of pleasure. “No one’s watching,” he said, voice dropping to a deep whisper that vibrated through his chest and into her. “And if they are, so what?”

“So they’ll...they’ll see-” She swallowed hard as he plucked at her nipple, a gasp growing and dying in the back of her throat. She squirmed but he stopped her, his other hand returning to her thigh.

Dean pressed his lips to her ear and growled. “Let them see.”

Her mind melted in that moment; her eyes glazed over as they stared at the crowd in front of them, her blood raced, heart pounded. His fingers slipped beneath the lacy fabric and brushed teasingly against her slit. “Fuck…”

“Wet already,” he whispered, breath tickling her ear.

“Mhm.” Her body tensed, back muscles twitching against him, arching her tits into his hand. “This is…” Her eyes fell closed as his middle finger tucked into her pussy, pressing against her clit. “...We can’t do this.” The protest ended in a deep moan and she spread her legs just a tiny bit.

Dean smiled against her throat and twisted her nipple hard. “You don’t sound too convincing.” Lips on her pulse, he sucked.

“I… we’re working… Oh. God.”

Two rough fingers dipped inside and her body clenched around them. “What’s that?” Dean nibbled on her ear and Y/N relaxed, falling harder against him.

She spread her knees even more, as much as the dress would allow. “I- please.”

Dean strummed her clit with his wide thumb. “Please what?” he teased, eyes focused on her breathing, the slow, heavy rise and fall of her tits. “Please fuck you in front of all these people?” She shivered and he closed his hand around her breast. “Please make you moan loud enough for all those tight-ass businessmen to hear?”

Y/N sealed her lips shut to hide a whimper, but nodded quickly. “Yes…”

With a grin, he slipped a third finger into her wetness and began to pump in earnest. “You’re such a little slut.”

Her hips began to move, grinding against his hand, the heel pressing perfectly into her aching clit. “Yeah,” she agreed, breathy and lost in the rising pleasure. “I’mma lil’ slut.”

He pushed in deeper and a gasp locked her throat tight. Her body stiffened, internally still rocking, pulsing on his hand. Enraptured, Y/N turned her head and grabbed his cheek, forcing his lips to hers. She licked into his mouth, fingers dimpling his cheeks as he discreetly rubbed her clit, pushing her farther and father to the edge.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “come on… just let it go…” Green eyes sparkled in the dim light and Y/N stared a little too deeply, felt his touch a little too intensely, let out a cry of satisfaction a little too loudly as she came. The wetness dripped down onto his hand and Dean smirked against her lips. “Such a bad girl.”

Y/N kissed him hard and then took a breath, turning back away as she brushed his hands away, still shaking with aftershocks of pleasure while adjusting her dress.

After a moment, she stood, tugged the hem of her dress down to an acceptable level, picked up her drink and left the booth, heading back towards the bar.

“Thanks for the drink,” she shot back with a wink over her shoulder.

Dean watched her go, slowly sucking her taste from his fingers and shuddering. His dick was hard as a rock, but he could wait. Wouldn’t be too long now anyway.

“Didn’t hit it off?” The bartender asked as Y/N sat back down in her spot, a tiny swallow of whiskey left in her glass.

She shrugged. “Oh, him? Nah. Not my type.”

He smiled a tad too aggressively. “That’s too bad. More for the rest of us, I guess.” He let his hand drop to the counter next to hers, almost touching, but cautious not to.

Y/N feigned an interested smile and let her hand accidentally brush against his. “I suppose it is.”

Their eyes met for a long moment, and everything in his gaze told her they’d been waiting for nothing. Their mark was already there, watching, hunting, stalking his prey.

Spinning around on her stool, Y/N’s smile faded as she pulled out her cell and shot Dean a text.

Game’s played. It’s the bartender.

You sure?

I mean…

Well, get him to take you home and we’ll see.

You gonna follow close and save me when he tries to peel my skin off?

Dean laughed and looked up, catching her eye. “You know it,” he mouthed.

Such a jerk.

Y/N smiled and spun back around slowly, spreading her legs just enough so that Dean could see the dark wet spot he’d made.

Slut.

She laughed to herself; a sly smile prickling her lips.

Don’t you know it.

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[cushandco]

How can you find the best leather ottoman?

Since it is a crucial component in the process of turning a house into a home and because it contributes to the overall visual appeal of the location, furniture is present in every home. Ottomans are often upholstered with leather or foam, and they can take the form of either flat or curved stools. Because it does not have a back or armrests, the ottoman may be used as a stool or possibly even as a side table for the group of armchairs that have been grouped around it. There is a large selection of ottomans available on the market nowadays, from which you may choose the ottoman that is most suited for your home.

The traditional coffee table, which is most of the time a table, can be replaced with a one-of-a-kind and aesthetically pleasing ottoman made of button-tufted leather. The modern-day popularity of leather ottomans may be attributed to their chic design as well as the practical usefulness they provide. You can find a lot of colours in Floor cushions. 

The shine of a button tufted leather ottoman may be maintained over the course of many years despite the frequent use that the ottoman receives since leather is a strong and long-lasting material. These lovely ottomans are available to purchase in a number of different colors, including black, dark brown, cream white, as well as burgundy. Floor cushion is very comfortable.

Depending on the dimensions of the recliner seats that will surround it, an appropriate size ottoman may be selected. The ottoman's color scheme should complement that of the reclining chairs and the space as a whole. Floor cushions Australia have the finest quality. The leather that covers the square or rectangular frames of button-tufted leather ottomans is of the highest quality, resulting in a finish that is both fashionable and long-lasting. The internet is filled with a plethora of resources that can be used to collect the required information, and ottomans are not an exception to this rule.

You may get leather ottomans in bench designs with built-in storage to stow away items you don't use frequently and keep your home looking tidy. You can even buy the Large floor cushions. As ottomans are so radically unlike to standard coffee tables, they may transform the aesthetic of a whole room. In addition, an ottoman is a worthwhile purchase because of its longevity and resilience.

Examining the construction, longevity, and quality of the leather used is essential when purchasing a button tufted leather ottoman. If you want to prevent any problems in the future, you should only buy your ottoman from a reputable and established furniture store. Some manufacturers even encourage customers to purchase their ottomans online through home shopping networks. White Ottoman is preferred by many people. 

An ottoman, like any other piece of furniture, needs regular upkeep to look its best and last as long as possible. You can extend the life of your ottoman and keep it looking great with regular cleaning and upkeep. Moroccan floor cushion has been an outstanding option.

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

CHOOSING THE PERFECT MARBLE DINING TABLE SHAPE AND COLOR FOR YOUR HOME

Marble dining tables are a timeless and elegant addition to any home. Not only are they durable and long-lasting, but they also come in a variety of shapes and colors to fit any decor style. Here are some tips for choosing the perfect marble dining table shape and color for your home.

Shapes

Oval

Oval marble dining tables offer a classic and elegant look that's perfect for formal dining spaces. They are also great for narrow dining rooms or small spaces as they offer ample seating without taking up too much room. Oval-shaped marble dining tables are often paired with curvy, upholstered chairs to enhance their elegance.

Round

Round-shaped marble dining tables are ideal for creating a cozy and intimate dining experience. They are great for small spaces or rooms with the curved wall as they provide a natural flow to the space. Round marble dining tables are often paired with upholstered chairs or stools for a comfortable and stylish seating option.

Square

Square-shaped marble dining tables offer a modern and sleek look that's perfect for contemporary dining spaces. They are also great for large dining rooms as they provide ample seating without taking up too much space. Square marble dining tables are often paired with minimalistic chairs or benches to create a streamlined look.

Colors

White

White marble dining tables offer a clean and sophisticated look that's perfect for modern or minimalist decor styles. They are also great for small spaces or rooms with little natural light as they create a bright and airy atmosphere.

Black

Black marble dining tables offer a bold and dramatic look that's perfect for creating a statement in your dining room. They are also great for creating a moody and luxurious atmosphere.

Colored

Colored marble dining tables offer a unique and personalized look that's perfect for adding a pop of color to your dining space. They come in a variety of colors such as green, pink, and blue, and can be paired with chairs in complementary colors to create a cohesive look.

In conclusion, choosing the perfect marble dining table shape and color is all about creating a look that complements your decor style and personal taste. Whether you opt for an oval-shaped white marble dining table or a square-shaped black marble dining table, there are countless ways to showcase the beauty of marble in your dining space. With a little creativity and inspiration, you can create a stylish and sophisticated dining area that's perfect for any occasion.

[cream-and-tea]

from chapter four of lay me down!

Scrubbing at their dirtstained face with one hand Pallas heads over to the curved left wall and the velvet-upholstered benches lining it, the lines of them pockmarked with wide yawning openings into the rest of the building whose white-edged moulding has always put them uncomfortably in mind of rows of gleaming teeth.

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[vintagehomecollection]

The curved arms of a late-19th-century French chair and the delicate bow of an upholstered gilt bench are lyrical additions to the guesthouse living room. An Italian surrealist drawing from the 1950s rests on the floor.

Mary Emmerling’s American Country Cottages, 1993

[romanov-ramblings]

Voided velvet upholstery used for the Maple Living-Room of Her Majesty at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo

In the Maple Living-Room of Her Majesty, a variety of textiles were used to decorate the Empress’s informal reception-room which was made up of forty pieces of built-in and free-standing furniture. Among these various chairs, tables, sofas, etc. were a folding-screen with leaded-glass inserts, small stools or benches with curved arm rests and an upholstered wingback chair which was built in the same shape as the one from the Lilac Cabinet of Her Majesty.  In the collection of GMZ Tsarskoe Selo, there are pieces of these textiles which were cut from the furniture by the last chief curator of the Palace-Museum, Anatoly M. Kuchumov to preserve the textiles used, in the event a restoration were to happen as was hoped for. However this did not happen, and what had been left of the Maple Living-Room was stripped by the early 1950′s and a load-bearing wall was placed in the middle of the four windows, effectively making two exhibition halls. Today, the post-war configuration has been removed and the room faithfully reconstructed to how it looked prior to the Second World War. One of the textiles in particular, a voided velvet ground of green with a stylised, blue and green peacock feather motif was used to decorate several pieces of furniture - a wingback chair, folding-screen, curved benches, and seat cushions for the seats of some of the wooden armchairs - all of which was designed and executed by the firm of F.F. Meltser & Co. - the Court Decorator being R.F. Meltser.  Currently, furniture is still in the production stage for the Maple Living-Room by the Tsarskoselskaya Restoration Workshop, and in the future the room will be filled with more pieces until the stage for this room is completed.  ________________________________________________________________ Please enjoy these images, and If you'd like to share them elsewhere, you can download them yourself and if you do so, PLEASE remember to credit the institution/news source/author/photographer - in this case Gosfond, and GMZ Tsarskoe Selo, Mr. Newman appropriately! Thank-you.   ________________________________________________________________ Photographs:

1. Remnant of the voided velvet used for upholstering furniture. This piece of textile is in the collection of GMZ Tsarskoe Selo (digitised via Gosfond). 2. An upholstered stool/bench from the furniture suite of the Maple Living-Room. Manufactured by the firm of F.F. Meltser & Co. Photograph from “Antiques, Objects of Art and Collectibles,” Circa. 2004. 3. An overstuffed, wingback chair from the furniture suite of the Maple Living-Room. Manufactured by the firm of F.F. Meltser & Co. Photograph from “Antiques, Objects of Art and Collectibles,” Circa. 2004. 4. Cropped detail of a photograph of the Maple Living-Room taken in 1928, by American photographer, “Mr. Newman” showing the folding-screen. Sources:

Gosfond (State Museum Catalogue of the Museum Fund of Russia) GMZ Tsarskoe Selo (Tsarskoe Selo State Museum Reserve) "Antiques, Objects of Art and Collectibles," Circa. 2004. Mr. Newman, Photographer. Circa. 1928. Link of courtesy:   www.goskatalog.ru https://antiqueland.ru/articles/1507/

[quotes-by-dilanka]

Living Like Weasels by Annie Dillard

A weasel is wild.

Who knows what he thinks?

He sleeps in his underground den, his tail draped over his nose.

Sometimes he lives in his den for two days without leaving.

Outside, he stalks rabbits, mice, muskrats, and birds, killing more bodies than he can eat warm, and often dragging the carcasses home.

Obedient to instinct, he bites his prey at the neck, either splitting the jugular vein at the throat or crunching the brain at the base of the skull, and he does not let go.

One naturalist refused to kill a weasel who was socketed into his hand deeply as a rattlesnake.

The man could in no way pry the tiny weasel off, and he had to walk half a mile to water, the weasel dangling from his palm, and soak him off like a stubborn label.

And once, says Ernest Thompson Seton--once, a man shot an eagle out of the sky.

He examined the eagle and found the dry skull of a weasel fixed by the jaws to his throat.

The supposition is that the eagle had pounced on the weasel and the weasel swiveled and bit as instinct taught him, tooth to neck, and nearly won.

I would like to have seen that eagle from the air a few weeks or months before he was shot: was the whole weasel still attached to his feathered throat, a fur pendant?

Or did the eagle eat what he could reach, gutting the living weasel with his talons before his breast, bending his beak, cleaning the beautiful airborne bones?

I have been reading about weasels because I saw one last week.

I startled a weasel who startled me, and we exchanged a long glance.

Twenty minutes from my house, through the woods by the quarry and across the highway, is Hollins Pond, a remarkable piece of shallowness, where I like to go at sunset and sit on a tree trunk.

Hollins Pond is also called Murray's Pond; it covers two acres of bottomland near Tinker Creek with six inches of water and six thousand lily pads. In winter, brown-and-white steers stand in the middle of it, merely dampening their hooves; from the distant shore they look like miracle itself, complete with miracle's nonchalance.

Now, in summer, the steers are gone. The water lilies have blossomed and spread to a green horizontal plane that is terra firma to plodding blackbirds, and tremulous ceiling to black leeches, crayfish, and carp.

This is, mind you, suburbia. It is a five-minute walk in three directions to rows of houses, though none is visible here.

There's a 55-mph highway at one end of the pond, and a nesting pair of wood ducks at the other. Under every bush is a muskrat hole or a beer can.

The far end is an alternating series of fields and woods, fields and woods, threaded everywhere with motorcycle tracks--in whose bare clay wild turtles lay eggs.

So, I had crossed the highway, stepped over two low barbed-wire fences, and traced the motorcycle path in all gratitude through the wild rose and poison ivy of the pond's shoreline up into high grassy fields.

Then I cut down through the woods to the mossy fallen tree where I sit. This tree is excellent. It makes a dry, upholstered bench at the upper, marshy end of the pond, a plush jetty raised from the thorny shore between a shallow blue body of water and a deep blue body of sky.

The sun had just set. I was relaxed on the tree trunk, ensconced in the lap of lichen, watching the lily pads at my feet tremble and part dreamily over the thrusting path of a carp.

A yellow bird appeared to my right and flew behind me. It caught my eye; I swiveled around—and the next instant, inexplicably, I was looking down at a weasel, who was looking up at me.

Weasel! I'd never seen one wild before.

He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert. His face was fierce, small and pointed as a lizard's; he would have made a good arrowhead.

There was just a dot of chin, maybe two brown hairs' worth, and then the pure white fur began that spread down his underside.

He had two black eyes I didn't see, any more than you see a window.

The weasel was stunned into stillness as he was emerging from beneath an enormous shaggy wild rose bush four feet away.

I was stunned into stillness twisted backward on the tree trunk.

Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.

Our look was as if two lovers, or deadly enemies, met unexpectedly on an overgrown path when each had been thinking of something else: a clearing blow to the gut.

It was also a bright blow to the brain, or a sudden beating of brains, with all the charge and intimate grate of rubbed balloons. It emptied our lungs.

It felled the forest, moved the fields, and drained the pond; the world dismantled and tumbled into that black hole of eyes. If you and I looked at each other that way, our skulls would split and drop to our shoulders.

But we don't. We keep our skulls. So.

He disappeared.

This was only last week, and already I don't remember what shattered the enchantment.

I think I blinked, I think I retrieved my brain from the weasel's brain, and tried to memorize what I was seeing, and the weasel felt the yank of separation, the careening splash-down into real life and the urgent current of instinct.

He vanished under the wild rose. I waited motionless, my mind suddenly full of data and my spirit with pleadings, but he didn't return.

Please do not tell me about "approach-avoidance conflicts." I tell you I've been in that weasel's brain for sixty seconds, and he was in mine.

Brains are private places, muttering through unique and secret tapes-but the weasel and I both plugged into another tape simultaneously, for a sweet and shocking time.

Can I help it if it was a blank?

What goes on in his brain the rest of the time? What does a weasel think about?

He won't say. His journal is tracks in clay, a spray of feathers, mouse blood and bone: uncollected, unconnected, loose leaf, and blown.

I would like to learn, or remember, how to live. I come to Hollins Pond not so much to learn how to live as, frankly, to forget about it.

That is, I don't think I can learn from a wild animal how to live in particular--shall I suck warm blood, hold my tail high, walk with my footprints precisely over the prints of my hands?--but I might learn something of mindlessness, something of the purity of living in the physical sense and the dignity of living without bias or motive.

The weasel lives in necessity and we live in choice, hating necessity and dying at the last ignobly in its talons. I would like to live as I should, as the weasel lives as he should.

QAnd I suspect that for me the way is like the weasel's: open to time and death painlessly, noticing everything, remembering nothing, choosing the given with a fierce and pointed will.

I missed my chance. I should have gone for the throat. I should have lunged for that streak of white under the weasel's chin and held on, held on through mud and into the wild rose, held on for a dearer life.

We could live under the wild rose wild as weasels, mute and uncomprehending. I could very calmly go wild. I could live two days in the den, curled, leaning on mouse fur, sniffing bird bones, blinking, licking, breathing musk, my hair tangled in the roots of grasses.

Down is a good place to go, where the mind is single. Down is out, out of your ever-loving mind and back to your careless senses. I remember muteness as a prolonged and giddy fast, where every moment is a feast of utterance received.

Time and events are merely poured, unremarked, and ingested directly, like blood pulsed into my gut through a jugular vein.

Could two live that way? Could two live under the wild rose, and explore by the pond, so that the smooth mind of each is as everywhere present to the other, and as received and as unchallenged, as falling snow?

We could, you know.

We can live any way we want.

People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience--even of silence--by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse.

This is yielding, not fighting.

A weasel doesn't "attack" anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you.

Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles.

We could, you know. We can live any way we want.

People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience--even of silence--by choice.

The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse.

This is yielding, not fighting.

A weasel doesn't "attack" anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you.

Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part.

Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles.

[highqueenofelfhame]

far away from sane - one

i’m going to preface this by saying that nobody has read this over so i don’t know if it’s good or if i just think it’s alright, who knows. only time will tell. I looked over this twice for grammar and editing and stuff but i’m sorry if i missed anything.  Thank you @starborn-faerie-queen  for your genius prayer to anneith. I owe you one. Not sure what the ‘one’ is but like certainly something let me know when you’d like to collect lmao.

TW: blood mostly. // 2435 words

Celaena had said it before, and she would likely say it again: the lying in wait before a job was the worst. Some people relished in it, seeing it as something religious almost. In fact, she knew a handful of assassins that worshipped their chosen deity in the moments before pouncing on their prey. Celaena wasn’t particularly religious herself. Too much had happened to her in her twenty four years to really believe that anyone up in the sky was looking out for anyone but themselves. Sometimes she felt like the sun was shining on her a little brighter than it did on other people. When she was a child, her mother had told her she was Mala blessed. She was not inclined to agree.

Still, when she slipped up the alley by the temple, she paused. A quick glance to her watch told her she still had an hour before she needed to be at the warehouse. An entire hour to kill, and what better way to spend her time than giving some old religious bastard a heart attack? She couldn’t think of anything, so she silently slipped through the front door of the small temple, splashed some holy water at the tapestry of the gods, and made her way toward the small confessional booth. 

Celaena settled inside on the uncomfortable, hideously upholstered bench and waited quietly. After seventy-two seconds, and just as she was about to leave and give up on spooking a foolish old man, the divider on the priest’s side of the partition slid open with a heinous screech that sent a shiver sprinting down her spine. Dim, warm light peppered over her lap through the grated holes of the window. Never too careful, Celaena adjusted her hood to be sure that ever defining feature about her was swallowed up in darkness. 

“Anneith, goddess of wisdom, we beseech you. Hear our prayer,” she recited, eyes looking to the little holes that separated her from the priest on the other side of the booth. A low, humming voice accompanied hers as she spoke and Celaena found herself slightly annoyed that he didn’t sound as ancient as she had hoped. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been… gods. If I’m being honest, like sixteen years since my last confession. I… I don’t know where to start, actually.” 

Celaena tapped her finger against her watch and made a mental note of the time while she contemplated what she should confess, exactly. It wasn’t like she had a shortage of sins, but if she came on too strong straight out the gate, it would be hard to slip out of the church and into the night unnoticed. She sighed heavily and looked back up at the partition as she twisted her mouth in thought. The holes in this particular confessional were too small to see even a hint of the man that sat on the other side of the booth. Good. That meant he couldn’t see her, either. 

“I haven’t been in one of these things since I was a kid. My mother and father would take me to temple and I would fall asleep leaning against my father and wake up when he lifted me into his arms after it was all over. Church happens so early in the morning for young minds, you know. You should consider pushing back the time.” When the priest said nothing, she huffed an impatient sigh. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure the last time that I was in here it was for shoving my cousin down the four steps that lead up to our front door because he’d taken my ice cream. If you ask me, he should have been the one repenting. He stole -- and from a little girl no less. But I was the one in trouble.” She snorted, giving him a moment to say anything at all but the man was made of stone and said nothing. “I’m here now because I have a long, long list of sins, father. Longer than anyone else that has been in this crumbling building. Well, that isn’t true. There is one man, I think, that would top me. But I doubt he’s ever stepped a single toe into a church, much less tried to atone for the things he’s done.”

Celaena glanced down at her watch again, then settled back against the chair and dropped the bomb to end all bombs: “I’ve been killing for as long as I can remember. Well,” she shrugged to herself, “since I was eight.”

“Killing?” The priest finally asked, a trace amount of surprise laced in his tone. 

“Animals. People. Animals first, because that’s how they train you. The people come second once your technique isn’t so shoddy. And if I say so myself, and I do, my technique has been flawless for the last ten years. There’s a learning curve, but, well, that isn’t why I’m here. I’m not here to brag about my perfect skill or about the secrets that I’ve heard whispered in the dark. I bet you’ve heard your fair share of secrets, haven’t you, father?” Celaena glanced down one more time, already working the door open slow enough that it wouldn’t make any noise. The man didn’t say anything, likely at a loss. Or maybe he was already calling the police on his cell phone. “Anyway, what do you think my penance would be?”

“For killing people?” He finally answered. Celaena smiled to herself as she opened the door enough to slip through.

“Yes,” she said, and then disappeared through the small opening she’d made and disappeared into the shadows of the church, then the shadows of the street. She wasn’t a complete maniac, she didn’t begin cackling as soon as she was out the door. Though she did wish more than anything that she had been able to see the look on the man’s face when she revealed such dark truths. Wished he had been able to see the smile pulling at her lips while she spilled her secrets to him in the dark. 

Instead she weaved up and down the streets and alleys, climbed onto roofs and hopped from building to building when they were close enough. She didn’t stop moving until she reached the warehouse that she knew the stupid fucks were hiding in. She could see all three of them sitting around a shitty metal table, taking turns throwing down cards. Celaena was too far to hear anything that they said beyond a low murmur of voices, not that it mattered. They had all signed their deaths away to her when they’d had whatever part in killing Sam. It was made worse by the fact that they sat around a table now, playing games mere days afterward. She had hardly been able to eat since his blood had been splattered across her face, and they were playing stupid card games? They could beg and plead all they wanted under her knife, but it didn’t matter. Every single one of them would cease to breathe in the next eight minutes or less. 

It hadn’t been hard to figure out which of the safe houses they would be at that week. The men of the Assassins Guild had never been smart. Smart enough to get away with murder, yes, but not smart enough to beat Celaena. They could call her a bitch all they wanted, but growing up with the lot of them she was always Arobynn’s favorite, always the most skilled assassin of them all. Arobynn had crowned himself the king of assassins, but Celaena had earned her title as the assassin queen, had fought for it in violent shades of red over the years. The student had become the teacher, and tonight she would school all of these idiots for thinking they could take Sam from her and get away with it. 

After waiting another two minutes, Tern and Harding both stood from the table and began their laps around the property. Mullin stayed seated, idly shuffling his cards while Celaena snuck inside and up behind him. With a simple flick of her wrist, her favorite daggers had extended into her hands, and moments later a blade was at his throat. The assassin queen didn’t bother with pleasantries, didn’t inconvenience herself by trying to go easy on the rat beneath her fingertips. She pressed the blade into his skin and fought off a grin when a bead of blood dripped down his flesh. 

“Which one of you did it?” Her other hand twisted into his oily hair as she pressed the blade harder against his neck. “Normally I wouldn’t give you any credit, Mullin, because you could never out run me. But since I was in a little bit of shock, whichever one of you did it had a few minutes time to get away. You can tell me who it was and I’ll consider letting you live, or I can slit your throat right now and let you bleed out before your friends get back.”

“They were your friends once, too,” Mullin grit out, to which Celaena snorted.

“None of you were ever my friends. I could counter your shitty argument with the same one, he was your friend, too. He still lived with you, for gods’ sake. And you or one of your nitwit friends shot him in the head like he didn’t matter. So, I will give you one more chance, Mullin. Which one of you stupid fucks ki—”

She was violently cut off by someone yanking her head back by her ponytail. While part of her wasn’t surprised that someone had found her, she also knew they had found her a little too soon. Their fifteen minute patrol hadn’t been nearly long enough. Neither of the men should have been back yet, but here she was with one at her back and two at her front. Mullin now held her dagger in his hand, the one she’d had at his neck but dropped from the surprise attack. Harding stood beside him, which left Tern  keeping her hands in a vice-like grip behind her back, his knife pressing into the throbbing pulse in her neck. 

Stupid. She had been so rutting stupid.

Her eyes slid to Harding, who was kneeling to open and rifle through a wooden crate beside the table. When he stood he was unravelling an iron-tipped cat-o-nine tails. She refused to give any of these bastards the satisfaction of being afraid, so she kept her jaw locked and her eyes clear. Mullin approached her, pulling two pairs of handcuffs from his pocket that he used to lock her arms behind her back. Just as she poised herself to bring her knees up into his groin, her feet were knocked out from beneath her and she was helpless to catch her fall. Instead, she ate the concrete, teeth singing as her chin knocked into the ground and blood pooling in her mouth because she bit her tongue on contact. Celaena spit in the direction of Mullin and Tern, her blood splattering across the ground. It didn’t take long for her to feel the warm stickiness of blood dribbling down her chin while one of them unzipped her suit from neck down to her waist. 

And then they began whipping her. And whipping her. And whipping her.

Until black seeped into her vision and threatened to pull her under. A set up. It had been a set up. Killing Sam had likely been part of that set up. Arobynn had been mad at her for leaving the guild and had killed Sam to make her angry. He knew she would be reckless and a little stupid after losing the one person that meant absolutely everything to her and he had been right. And now she was going to die face down on the floor of a dirty warehouse in the slums of Rifthold, in a pool of her own blood. Poetic. 

“Just leave her,” she registered someone saying, but she couldn’t tell which voice it was. Everything sounded the same with the loud ringing in her ears. Someone was kneeling down beside her, looking at her face but she was seeing double and couldn’t figure out who was who. 

The man’s head snapped up as she heard a second set of ringing that sounded an awful lot like sirens. 

“What the fuck? The cops?” Vaguely, she registered blue and red lights flashing in the windows,  clearly getting closer as the vibrancy became hard to look at in her state of distress. Footsteps ran away from her followed by a lot of shouting. Gods, she wished they would shut up. Her head was hurting, her tongue hurt from biting it when she’d been kicked to the ground earlier. As footsteps ran toward her this time, she tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the mind-numbing pain. 

Tried and failed, until someone was crouching beside here and a set of bright, livid green eyes was in her line of vision. 

“I’ve got her! We need a medic!” The man yelled over his shoulder, leaning down a little closer to her. Celeana’s eyes moved down to where his pinky finger had dipped into the edge of her blood pool. A hard shiver made her body begin to tremor and she realized just how cold this room had become since she’d first entered it. The man rose up a bit, ripping his coat off and draping it over her body. She wanted to scream at the pain, at the raw sensation the jacket rubbed into her mangled skin, but she didn’t. “Can you hear me?”

She blinked once for yes, unsure if he would understand her code until he said, “Yes? One blink for yes?” She blinked again in silent confirmation. Once, she had known this man’s name. The man with the silver hair and bright green eyes that had been tracking her like a hawk. He had always been close, but too far. Celaena had always been a few steps ahead. Now, bleeding out onto the cement she couldn’t even remember what letter his name started with. “Stay with me, Celaena. Stay with me.”

She tried. She really did. 

But the darkness encroaching the edges of her vision was a lullaby and with one final blink at the man, it dragged her down and sang her to sleep.

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