#handcrafted antique doors

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 2)

Lucifer/Reader

Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani

‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’

Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors. 

Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with. 

These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company. 

And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard. 

You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water. 

“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”

Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be. 

If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net… 

Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold. 

With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.

There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.

——

“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”

“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you. 

The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance. 

It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering. 

“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.” 

“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.

There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight. 

He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Quack!’ 

“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs. 

Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly. 

You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly. 

The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.” 

“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen. 

You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips. 

“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.” 

You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.” 

Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke. 

“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth. 

The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy. 

It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck. 

‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’ 

“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you. 

You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.” 

Mrs. Farrow beamed. 

“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”

“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned. 

He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.” 

Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”

“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”

Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more. 

The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.

The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.

“Baphomet.” 

You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again. 

“O-oh, the statue is…?”

Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.” 

The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it. 

“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.” 

“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.” 

The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”

You turned to Warren again. 

“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.” 

Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.” 

“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.” 

“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious. 

The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.” 

Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.” 

Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.” 

“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”

“Dinner time!”

Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself. 

Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”

——

All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine. 

The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least. 

As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself. 

“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.” 

“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.” 

Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.” 

‘Quack quack’

Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.

“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!” 

The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned. 

She had a small wicker basket in her arms. 

“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.” 

As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier. 

“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence. 

“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!” 

The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.

“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”

“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.” 

There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat. 

“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!” 

“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!” 

“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room. 

“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.” 

A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.” 

“The cost must’ve —”

“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently. 

You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket. 

Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you. 

So funny. 

… You felt funny. 

Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there. 

“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…” 

Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat. 

The basket was gone. 

Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table. 

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”

Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. 

“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.” 

Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater. 

Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright. 

The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you. 

“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”

“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock. 

“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.

Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass. 

Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell. 

“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.” 

“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.” 

“Oh no, thank you.” 

——

When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right. 

It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it. 

‘Well that’s good.’ 

The heavy feeling in your arms was still present. 

‘That’s not so good.’

You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly. 

Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall. 

You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’ 

The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body. 

That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you. 

Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was… 

Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him. 

“Hello there!”

[cera-writes]

Remy and reader on their wedding day and night. Fluff and smut please? 😗😗😗😗😗😗

A/N: I like the way you think 🥰🥰🥰 Pairing: F!Reader x Remy "Gambit" LeBeau Tags: fluff, nfsw, sweet sweet smut

"I Do."

The air crackled with nervous anticipation, a fizzing current that danced along your spine. Sunlight streamed through the ornate French doors, casting a warm glow across the sprawling gardens of the St Louis Cathedral. It was the day. You were marrying Remy LeBeau.

A shiver, not entirely from the air-conditioned coolness of the room, rippled through you. You glanced at yourself in the antique mirror, the handcrafted lace of your wedding dress whispering against your skin. It was a vision of elegance, a stark contrast to the life you once knew. But then, so was everything about Remy.

A soft rap at the door startled you. "Come in," you called, your voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, revealing Remy. He looked impossibly handsome in his tailored black suit, a crimson rosebud pinned to his lapel. His eyes, red as garnet and black as night, held a familiar warmth that sent a familiar flutter to your heart.

For a moment, you could only stare at him, speechless. He took a hesitant step forward, a sheepish grin breaking across his face. "Well, mon cheri," he drawled, his voice a barely above a caress, "you look like you swallowed a canary."

You swatted him playfully on the arm, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. "That's the most eloquent compliment I've ever gotten from a thief."

Remy chuckled, the sound rich and deep. "Only for you, cherie. Only for you." He reached out, his hand hovering over yours. "Are you ready?"

You squeezed his hand, the nervous energy dissipating into a calm certainty. "As I'll ever be."

Remy's smile softened. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then let's go steal the show, shall we?"

The walk down the aisle was a blur. Arms linked with Remy's, you felt a thousand eyes on you, yet all that mattered was the man beside you. You glanced over at the X-Men, your friends over the years as they smiled at the two of you. Morph was bawling, tears streaming down their eyes. Even some of Remy's old Guild acquaintances had shown up and made an appearance. Remy squeezed your hand reassuringly as you reached the altar, a silent promise exchanged in a single touch.

The ceremony was beautiful, a tasteful blend of your traditions and Remy's heritage. When it came time for the vows, Remy's voice, usually smooth as butter, trembled slightly. His words, though, were heartfelt, a testament to the love that had bloomed from the most unexpected of places.

Yours were no less heartfelt, spoken with a conviction that surprised even yourself. You pledged your love, your loyalty, your entire chaotic, beautiful life to this charming thief who had stolen your heart.

You both said without a single doubt in your words, "I do," at last.

As your longtime friend Kurt Wagner declared you husband and wife, Remy took your face in his hands, his gaze intense. The kiss that followed was filled with a lifetime of unspoken emotions, a promise whispered on stolen breaths.

The reception was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and dancing. Remy, ever the charmer, regaled your friends and family with tales of your adventures, your first time ever have met each other, each embellished for maximum effect. You watched him, a smile permanently plastered on your face, your heart overflowing with a happiness you never thought possible.

Later that night, as you stood on the balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens, Remy wrapped his arms around you from behind. "So," he murmured, his voice husky, "Mrs. LeBeau. How does it feel?"

You leaned back against him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "Like coming home, Remy. Like I finally belong."

He nuzzled your neck, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "Then welcome home, cherie. Welcome home."

As you gazed out at the star-dusted sky, hand in hand with the man you loved, you knew this was just the beginning of your grand adventure. A life together, filled with laughter, love, and perhaps the occasional heist, was a future you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

But the night didn't stop there. Your Honeymoon awaited as Remy carried you bridal style back through the threshold.

Remy had managed to secure a beautiful hotel nestled in the heart of the French Quarter.

A slow smile spread across his face as he sat you down inside the French Chateau. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "Let's get you out of this dress, shall we?"

His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. You nodded, a silent agreement hanging heavy in the air. He helped you remove the dress, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours.

When you stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, the air crackled with unspoken desire and undeniable lust. He took a step back, his eyes roaming over your body, a mixture of possessiveness and reverence in his gaze.

"Ma Belle, you are absolutely stunning," he breathed, his voice thick with desire, his accent thickening.

You stepped closer, bridging the gap between you. You reached out, your fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by a hungry glint in his eyes.

He captured your lips in a kiss, deep and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken promises, of a lifetime of passion waiting to be explored. You surrendered to him completely, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the feel of his strong arms wrapped around you.

You then pushed Remy down onto the plush bed adorned with red rose petals. He smirked devilishly, eyes never leaving yours as he beckoned you closer.

The night stretched before you, filled with stolen moments and whispered endearments. Remy was everything you'd ever dreamt of and more - tender and passionate, playful and protective. He explored your body with a reverence that left you breathless, his touch igniting a fire within you.

"Oh gods, Remy! Don't stop, please..." you begged breathlessly as he took you inch by inch, rough and hard, needy and desperate. "F-fuck chere! T-tu te sens si b-bien," he stammered, breaths coming out in short pants. You were both reaching new heights of ecstasy with each other.

You'd made it a point early on in your relationship that if he wanted you, he'd have to bed you properly on your wedding night as traditional and outdated as that sounded. You were tired of having your heart played with in the past. But here he was now, worshipping your body like a long forgotten art. Funny how life turned out for the both of you.

As the night wore on, the initial urgency gave way to a slow, sensual exploration. Remy was thrusting into you in slow deliberate thrusts. Your body fit him like a glove. "Just like that baby, god I love you, Remy...my cajun man," you kissed his lips as he made love to you.

He smiled, half proud and half completely enamored with how you were making him feel.

You learned each other's bodies in a new way, the pleasure building with each touch, each kiss.

Finally, sated and breathless, you lay curled up in his arms, the moonlight painting silver streaks across your entwined forms.

"I love you, Remy," you whispered once more, as if never getting tired of those three words, your voice thick with sleep.

He nuzzled your hair, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Je t'aime, mon cœur," he murmured. "Plus que les mots ne peuvent le dire."

You drifted off to sleep, the feeling of his love a warm blanket wrapped around you, the promise of a lifetime together a sweet dream on your lips.

You were his and he was yours.

Pour Toujours.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The description of this 2015 villa in Sweden says, "Finally, you can live like a Viking!" I have never seen anything like this before. The Viking property comes with a main residence, a guest residence, multiple guest cabinets, bocce court, handcrafted sculpture and a Viking-style terrace. $821K.

The sign says Knight's house.

Have you ever seen decor like this? Notice the carved Vikings behind the couch. There's a bit of elegance here, like chandeliers and gold framed mirrors. This is the knight's large cottage.

There's a lovely brick big fireplace with a stone chimney.

If I wanted to decorate like this, I wouldn't know where to begin.

For a rustic home, this is quite an elegant, very comfortable bedroom and it's in the loft. The door opens to a balcony.

These clothes look like a part of the decor and make a good case for casual, open, clothing storage.

The bathroom has a lovely sink made from an antique dressing table and a modern free-standing shower unit.

The kitchen is a glorious conglomeration of modern, vintage, and look at the island made of terracotta building blocks that handily hold wine bottles.

This is a Knight's house passage between the kitchen and the great cabin.

So, this is Amazonhuset, which is the big house.

I think that cute little cabin in the house is a coat room.

Love the corner fireplace and how the stones kind of dissipate. Cute loft above, too.

Comfortable corner living room.

This small kitchen looks commercial grade, which it probably is, b/c this property has guest cabins.

A cute bathroom with a free standing shower and look at the little corner toilet.

The loft bedroom.

One of the guest cottages, at least I think it is.

Very interesting.

This guest cabin is cool- you sleep in the viking ship.

And, here's another cute guest cottage.

The last guest cottage is adorable. I think this would a great place for friends to share, like a compound.

There're lots of these viking carvings throughout.

For the price, this is a very cool piece of property.

[tyxoxo]

One Night Only - VII.

ch.6, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: only suggestive themes in this chapter, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction),

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads @glitchfiles @devinitysann @jamy99hoe @pradajaehyun

a/n: don’t come for me! i know it’s been a minute 🫣

**edit: forgot to write that jeno changed his clothes. just imagine him in his all black fit from Milan!!:)

Chapter 7

He had to have been the most foul person to ever step foot on this subway, thinking he could get away with trying to put his hands in between your thighs. It was painfully obvious that he was attempting to get to where you secretly needed him the most.  

“Jeno…” The way his name fell from your hushed lips made him go wild. Even if you were going to tell him to stop, it wouldn’t keep him from daydreaming about spinning you around to face the subway doors, letting everyone on the other side watch the two of you fly by as he took you against the foggy windows.

Even bonus points if he managed to rip your flimsy flannel open as he fucked you from behind, breasts pressed against the plexi glass from his relentless thrusts.

He was aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath; practically begging to be exposed.

You whispered out his name again, not even realizing that you snapped him out of his wild daze.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your ear, causing your back to arch and ultimately intensify the way your ass fit perfectly into his groin. 

“We can’t do this here…” You fought against your desires, trying your hardest to not let your words drift off into a moan. There was no way the other subway-goers couldn’t hear you. Your tone was quiet enough to hear a pin drop but everyone was practically squished against one another, you and Jeno included. The only thing that set you apart from these strangers, was your guilt from struggling to behave.

“Why not?”

“There’s kids in here…”

He briefly turned his head from the front of the train to the very back. Due to his one-track mind, of course he didn’t notice.

“Fuck…” Disappointment was evident in his expression, forehead dropping onto your shoulder from the realization that he was cock-blocked.

You purposely dropped your eyes down at both of your shoes, knowing the civilians were probably disgusted, and would maybe even consider reporting you to the nearest authorities; this was Seoul after all. 

Regardless, Jeno kept his claim on you, making sure his hands were locked on your waist for the entire train ride. 

~

“So…what is there to know?” You asked as the two of you scoured the outdoor flea market. You didn’t know of any other way to start a conversation, but you hoped something would come out of it.

Neither of you were on the hunt for anything in particular, but the multitude of booths gave you both plenty to look at.

From antique’s, to handcrafted jewelry, to “hand-me-down’s” in a stand alone thrift section, there could be something worth buying. 

“What would you like to know?” Jeno knocked his shoulder into your own as a signal for “shoot it.” But you were certain that he had no idea how many details you wanted to discover. 

“Well, you seem pretty tame at the moment, which is why i asked.” 

He scoffed at your statement, knowing that he was so close to causing a scene on the subway. But he could care less about the old farts or the young bloods. He was never one to respect authority.

“I mean yeah, since we’re very well acquainted now.” He said his snarky comment rather loudly, to which you gave a rather loud and abrupt “shhh.”

A few shoppers turned to view your utterance, to which you quickly diverted your eyes from the sudden onslaught of attention. 

“Hmm, let me guess. You want to know why I'm being so nice right now. Or maybe you want to know when I'm gonna ditch you…”

He looked up towards the sky as he listed his malicious theories; a shit way to ponder on all of the possibilities.

You could only shake your head from your decision to initiate talk, but you couldn’t help but remain curious.

“You know you’re like a billion red flags right?” You snapped back with something only half as presumptuous; never quite on your “A” game with someone as forward as him.  

“Yeah, and what does that say about you?” He said with a smirk. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not tug on your lips with every word he spoke.

Sadly, he was right.

You were just as unstable as him, to all of a sudden be around him more often than your old self would’ve wanted to. 

“That I should be ashamed of myself…” 

Somehow that amused the both of you. And hearing him laugh for the first time, actually stirred something within you, even his eye smile making your cheeks turn scorching hot.

“But seriously though, what made you want to work at a bookstore, doesn’t seem like your kind of vibe. Having to be quiet all the time…”

“I mean, Renjun and I both wanted something lowkey and not super complicated. And could you imagine me in retail or fast food, sounds terrible right?” 

You covered your mouth as you imagined the scenario, entertained by his facial expressions and agreement with his own statement.

“I definitely couldn’t. But you should really treat Mark with more respect, he’s way too lenient with you, or any of us for that matter.”

You couldn’t help but scold Jeno, for all the times he was inconsiderate to your nothing-but-nice boss.

Jeno gave a sarcastic pout, and an aura of silence after catching sight of a ring at one of the many handcrafted jewelry booths. As he began to approach the tent, you inspected the banner attached to the front, reading “Brimstone Jewelry” with a Leviathan Cross situated on both ends. 

You followed behind him, hanging onto the back of his black jean jacket to keep up with his stride. 

As you stood side-by-side, you watched as he grabbed the grunge-inspired silver band, face showing interest in the decorative etchings. 

Eventually, who you presumed to be the owner, approached the two of you, hoping Jeno would buy it. 

“You like it?” The woman had a unique look to her. Despite being middle-aged, she seemed to be just as lively as the younger demographic: with dyed red fringed hair, spiked cuffs, and an all black sheer dress. 

Jeno could only respond with a “mhm” and a subtle nod, raising the ring to get a good view of the sticker on the inside that gave the size. 

“Do you have this in a size 9?” 

“Yes! Let me get it out of my box!” The lady bent down to grab the container that was hidden underneath the table by a white drape sheet. In it, was the ring he had asked for, along with others that were just as edgy. 

It was noticeably bigger and once Jeno placed it on his right middle finger, you felt your knees buckle.

He looked so hot, with it on. Even though his black jean jacket covered the veins on his arms, you could see them branched out on his hands, complimenting the avant-garde design of the ring.

You hadn’t even realized that your mouth was hung open as he held up his hand in the sunlight, not until the lady smiled and laughed at your expression.

Jeno was oblivious until she spoke again,

“Are you guys a couple?” 

She was daring to ask such a thing, and you tried to gulp down the lump that formed in your throat like an aftershock.

Jeno placed his hand down, giving an obvious and shameless “why would you ask such a thing” look.

“No.” 

Jeno’s curt response, without a reassuring glance, made the air around you go cold, despite the relatively warm day.

What did you expect? And why did it make your entire body slump into a low-spirited posture? 

“Didn’t mean to intrude, young man. Just thought I’d ask because I have some really nice couple rings.” The lady gave a sympathetic bow, one that was ignored by Jeno as he tossed the ring on the table and walked off without you.

You were in disbelief, not only from his brusque actions, but from the entirety of the situation. It seemed like he retreated anytime your presence was known…did you even really exist in his mind? Or only when it benefited him? 

Of course, you were probably overanalyzing. But this was the second time he withdrew after the two of you engaged in such a way. 

You mentally shook your head of your inordinate thoughts, giving a delayed bow to the lady on behalf of your anarchic partner, if that even was the appropriate title. 

“How come you didn’t buy it?” You eventually caught up, with your subconscious never failing to make you grab a hold of his arm as the two of you walked. Surprisingly, he didn’t shrug you away, and you could honestly care less if he secretly hated it. 

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to…” 

If you ended up following through with your spur-of-the-moment plan, you could no longer say that you didn’t have feelings for Jeno. All of the denial would be nonexistent from this point onward. 

Because the moment you decided to walk back up to that same booth, you would make it your mission to have Jeno fuck you with that ring on, one way or another.

“Where are you going?” He looked back after feeling you release the back of his jacket. 

“I’ll be right back. Can you find me something to drink and some shade, like frozen lemonade or something?” 

As you attempted to keep your whereabouts unknown, you were stopped in your tracks by Jeno’s firm grip on your wrist, causing you to whirl back around to face him. His jaw was clenched, probably due to your equivocal decision to go alone suddenly, especially in such a busy crowd.

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“I’m gonna go check something out, can you find me something to drink in the meantime?” You tried your best not to involuntarily point your head in the direction of your objective, fearing it would give your plan away. 

“Tell me.” 

“I said i’ll be right back!” 

Because of the increase in your tone and the attention drawn to the two of you now, Jeno had no choice but to let go. He seemed to walk away in the opposite direction, where you had both eyed a drink stand minutes prior. You continued your journey back to the jewelry booth, hoping the lady wouldn’t tell you to go away because of Jeno’s ill-mannered attitude. 

Surprisingly, she smiled upon seeing you step up again to her booth.

“Back again huh?” 

“Yeah I couldn’t stay away.” You offered an awkward laugh to fill the once-cold space.

“Could I buy that size 9 ring we looked at earlier?” 

“Of course! But may I ask…how come he won’t?” 

She seemed to be the nosy type, but for some reason you didn’t mind, even envying her audacious personality.

“Uh-uhm. It’s a surprise for him. He never tells me or shows me what he likes so I thought why not.” 

A terrible lie, one that she might see right through.

“Well, I must say it fits him. You guys look good together. Just make sure he treats you right…been there, done that.”

She spoke low as she put the ring in its own matte-black holder, assuming Jeno was nearby to hear.  

You bowed from her conscious advice after handing the money, to which she waved goodbye as she handed you the brown paper gift bag. 

The bag was adorned with the same Leviathan Cross sticker on both sides, indirectly foiling your plans to keep it a surprise. 

As soon as you left the booth, you took out your phone to see if he texted where he could possibly be. And there on your lockscreen was a single message.

2:27pm 

[jeno]: i’m at the drink stand we saw earlier. you should see a bunch of bright yellow chairs

[you]: ok, heading over now

It was impossible to hide the rush of excitement that forged within your body. You just knew he would love it, even if he tried to outwardly display annoyance from your persistence. 

You held the bag close to your body as you made your way to the stand, almost stumbling past a few people in the process.

There, in the distance, you saw him. And despite the toxicity, he took your breath away at every glance: the way he sat in the chair with the typical male leg cross—ankle up and resting on the opposite knee while scrolling through his phone made you grip the bag even tighter.

He had successfully fulfilled your request, with two large cups of what appeared to be frozen lemonade placed on the outdoor green mesh table.

It wasn’t until you got in arms-length distance that he looked up from his phone, eyes following the brown paper bag as you placed it on top of the table.

And once he looked from there and to your smug grin, he instantly knew. 

“What the fuck?” He leaned forward, switching to a normal sitting position simultaneously. 

His profanity garnered a mother with her two young children to cover their ears as she stood nearby ordering at the stand, but neither you nor Jeno cared about her own censoring. You began sipping the slushied drink through the straw as you shifted in the bright yellow chair, watching with a smile as he inspected the familiar sticker on the bag.

“Try it on again.” 

You spoke in between sips, not surprised to see him obeying your command within a second of your sentence.

After a hefty amount of rustling through the bag, he pulled out the matte-holder, and with it came the satisfaction of a lifetime.

As soon as he slipped it on his right middle finger, your mouth hovered over the straw, just like when you first saw him with it. 

He looked down at his hand with intrigue, and soon fixation as you scooted your chair over to him.

He sat frozen in his seat as you leaned over, chilled lips hitting his ear in two breaths,

“Now fuck me with it on…”  Where did all of your daringness come from? Not even you could answer that, but based on the rush of how he gathered all of your belongings and your wrist, he was determined to find out...

[indiatrendzs]

Rustic Vintage Furniture, Bohemian Eclectic Decor

Create your dream bedroom with our collection of antique quality furniture. Our rustic chests, and stands provide superior comfort and timeless elegance to provide a tranquil retreat and lasting relaxation. Our collection of antique Door is handcrafted from the finest teak Wood and Reclaimed Wood for strength and natural allure. these pieces provide timeless charm and a personalized touch to…

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[hakesbros]

Communities

Just a short drive southwest of Austin, San Antonio has plenty of opportunities for employment development, in addition to having the most important focus of navy bases within the US. In terms of entertainment, San Antonio has a lot to offer. You can enjoy the many things to do at Market Square, Schlitterbahn, SeaWorld, and Six Flags Fiesta Texas. The star of San Antonio is the well-known homes for sale san antonio River Walk, a lush community of walkways along the San Antonio River the place you'll have the ability to stroll, dine, and sightsee year-round. Sports lovers can enjoy reside action hockey, soccer, baseball, and skilled NBA games featuring the 5-time world champion San Antonio Spurs at the Alamodome.

On the first flooring, there's an owner's suite with a full rest room, in addition to an open concept household room, with a kitchen, lounge and eating area. Upstairs are three bedrooms that focus on a loft, excellent for kids, as a casual front room or study space. This single-story home has every thing a modern family needs with three bedrooms in total, including homes for sale san antonio tx the proprietor's suite. The two secondary bedrooms are on the entrance of the house and share a hall bathroom, whereas the open concept dwelling area includes a household room, dining room and kitchen, all in one space. With us, you may have your alternative of home flooring plans with open concepts and Life Tested Home Designs® that make it simpler to live the means in which that you actually want in San Antonio.

The house owners retreat is situated downstairs and options its non-public bathroom with the upgraded full walk-in shower. Home office with French doors set at two-story entry. Open formal dining room simply new home builders san antonio off the kitchen space. Two-story family room with 19-foot ceilings and a wall of home windows. Kitchen options an island with built-in seating space, a 5-burner fuel cooktop, a walk-in pantry and opens to the morning space.

There are several actions that would trigger this block together with submitting a certain word or phrase, a SQL command or malformed information. When you select to build your home within the greater San Antonio area, you should have access to loads of exceptional neighborhoods and destinations. Take within the distinctive German architecture and rich historical past of the Gruene Historic District, where you'll find new homes san antonio a way to get pleasure from every thing from antiquing to kayaking. At Starlight, we make the journey to homeownership one thing to rejoice with a simplified home shopping for course of and a helping hand to guide you every step of the means in which. If you're seeking to promote your home within the Far West Side area, our listing brokers might help you get the best price.

Experience a handcrafted life-style designed particularly for you. New Braunfels is known for its wealthy German tradition as properly as its shut proximity to the Guadalupe and Comal rivers, which attracts many guests and tourists. The city is among the quickest growing cities in the state and is home to the oldest bakery in Texas. With loads of attractions and much to do, residents at Homestead will benefit from the brief 20 minute drive to New Braunfels. Try eradicating some of the filtering options to see communities.

“We’re actually in the bullseye of what Houston will look like 10 or 15 years from now. Many of the projections say that Cypress will be the middle of metropolitan Houston within the next 20 years. Residential and business development as well as transportation tasks and new schools are planned in Cy-Fair all through 2023 to accommodate a rising inhabitants.

Johnson last year added greater than 1,600 heaps to the Houston market and recently acquired 1,four hundred acres in Magnolia for a new neighborhood. The yet-to-be-named neighborhood is expected to break ground within the second quarter with preliminary tons delivered to builders within home builders in san antonio the fourth quarter of 2024. New Western gave me a chance to purchase property on Day One and now, because of them, I give up my job and became a profitable, full-time investor. And now I’m able to control my life and work for myself. I constructed a staff around me and a reputation that I stand behind now.

[takshni]

A Unique Masterpiece Collection and Brass Artifacts in India

Brass objects from India are appreciated for their rich cultural history and centuries-old craft practices. Brass, a timeless material in Indian workmanship, is used to make sculptures and household goods. Brass Artifacts india are stunning, and this research explores their universe.

Brass, a copper-zinc alloy, is valued for its durability, adaptability, and glossy gold color. Brasswork has been practiced in India for thousands of years by experienced craftsmen. These craftsmen' brass artifacts combine history and modernity.

Diversity and variety make Indian brass items intriguing. From religious symbols and ceremonial artifacts to daily objects and decorations, brass artists excel in many styles. Brass sculptures of Hindu deities like Lord Ganesha, Shiva, and Lakshmi are revered at temples and shrines throughout, symbolizing spirituality and culture.

Brass artists make several useful and decorative utilitarian things in addition to religious iconography. Pots, pans, and plates made of brass are valued for their heat conductivity and taste. During festivals and rituals, diyas, brass lamps, fill homes and holy areas with a warm, golden glow that represents wealth and auspiciousness.

Brass items brighten homes, castles, and public areas in addition to their functional applications. Architectural buildings are enhanced by intricately carved brass door knockers, knobs, and embellishments. Brass figures, wall hangings, and sculptures add character and appeal to rooms.

The tales and traditions they reflect make Indian brass objects unique from others. Each artwork depicts India's unique history, culture, and mythology. Brass artifacts represent scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata or rural village life while staying contemporary.

Brass items need talent, accuracy, and attention to detail to make. Melting brass ingots in furnaces, artisans manage the temperature to attain the necessary uniformity. Molten brass is poured into complex clay or sand molds to cool and solidify. Brass is thoroughly cleaned and finished after cooling to reveal its inherent beauty.

Many Indian brass craftspeople use generations-old processes despite contemporary manufacture. They use modest tools and technology to give each item a unique feeling and workmanship that mass-produced products lack. The handcrafted nature of Unique Masterpiece Collection, with tiny faults and variations that lend character.

Recently, collectors and connoisseurs have sought for rare and high-quality Indian brass artifacts locally and overseas. Indian craft cooperatives and organizations teach, assist, and sell talented brass workers to conserve and promote traditional workmanship.

From local markets and artisan festivals to internet platforms and specialist shops, collectors may find real Indian brass antiques. There is something for everyone, from the precise workmanship of religious symbols to the rustic charm of old cookware to the timeless beauty of ornamental embellishments.

Finally, Indian brass items are beautiful, cultural, historical, and handcrafted. These exquisite works of Indian craftsmanship preserve centuries-old traditions and feature religious symbols and daily things. With its ageless beauty and charm, Indian brass items in homes, temples, and museums continue to fascinate.

[mogulinterior4]

Vintage & Antique Doors - mogulinterior.com

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Timeless Elegance: Moroccan Brass Faucet, Wall-Mounted and Unlacquered, Perfect for Antique Kitchen and Bathroom Sinks - Dual Functionality.

Discover our Moroccan Brass Faucet, a fusion of elegance and practicality. Meticulously crafted with an eye for detail, this wall-mounted fixture enhances both your bathroom and vintage kitchen sink. Fashioned from pure unlacquered brass, it radiates enduring charm and resilience.

Unrivaled Craftsmanship: With over twenty years of mastery in brass faucet and sink production, we present a product of unparalleled excellence. Each faucet undergoes rigorous testing and meticulous packaging, guaranteeing secure delivery to your door.

[desertmoroccoadventure]

How Much Rugs Cost in Morocco

Explore the rich tapestry of Moroccan rugs, from exquisite Berber creations to traditional handmade carpets, and immerse yourself in the artistry and pricing dynamics. Curious about the cost? Let's uncover how much rugs cost in Morocco?! In the labyrinthine alleys of Moroccan souks, amid the swirl of spices and the chatter of merchants, a treasure awaits the discerning eye: The Moroccan carpets. These elaborate creations, rooted in the past and full of culture are not just floor coverings they are doors to a world filled with traditional craftsmanship and artistry. However, how much are the traditional handmade carpets? We look not only at the prices but also at their beauty and cultural significance. Traditional handmade carpets generally range in price from 3,000 to 7,000 dirhams. However, vintage Berber rugs may command higher prices, varying from 10,000 to 26,000 dirhams depending on factors such as the region of origin and age.

The Rich Legacy of Moroccan Rugs:

Moroccan rugs are far more than mere floor coverings; They are admired worldwide for their elegant beauty and peerless workmanship. Just strolling through the city or the majestic Atlas Mountains, you can discover another story seamlessly woven into these tapestries. In Morocco, the traditional Berber carpets have a prominent place, possessing tradition and reflecting on the ruggedness of the Atlas Mountains and deserts. Made by the indigenous Berber tribes of North Africa, mainly by professional female weavers these rugs are valuable due to their complex patterns and deep significance. These rugs, handcrafted from wool spun with hands and stained through natural dyes not only act as useful floor coverings but also serve as art pieces showing the nomadic life story and their spiritual beliefs. In contrast, Moroccan carpets reflect a more refined aesthetic consisting of intricate motifs borrowing from Islamic design elements such as geometric patterns and floral designs with embellished borders.

Handmade Rugs: Labor of Love and Skill:

Moroccan rugs are unique because they are handmade, not spun by machines like others. Master craftsmen put their hearts into each craft, often using techniques that have been handed down for generations. This ancient art is alive in busy medinas such as Marrakech and Essaouira. Craftsmen sit at their looms and work out the patterns with extreme accuracy. Each of the steps from the first strip to fleece up to the last fringe is an act of passion, love producing rug as not only a piece but also artwork filled with warmth, character, and history.

Vintage Moroccan Rugs: Timeless Beauty and Collectible Treasures:

Although Moroccan rugs have been continually produced since then, vintage pieces always keep some sort of peculiar charm for collectors and connoisseurs. The vintage Moroccan rugs bring a past look to them as they are weathered and outdated yet so attractive due to time-worn charm, the marks of years passing by. Bearing stories of distant lands, culture exchange, and time passing by carrying from one family to another, or trading along the ancient caravan routes these rugs embody all that they have been through. Each tattered design and threadbare hem only enhances the mysterious aura of this rug, giving it an air of sentimentality that no man-made imitation can achieve.

Pricing and Value:

The price of Moroccan rugs may be quite different due to the size, material used for design purposes, and complexity as well it is also dependent on how old the rug might be. Although machine-made rugs are cheaper, handmade Moroccan carpets sell for more because of the craftsmanship and workmanship required to make them as well as their cultural heritage value plus artistic merit. The authenticity of Berber carpets is valued as a result they are expensive in souks. Among antique collectors, Moroccan rugs are traditionally collected and are in high demand for their craftsmanship due to famous carpet centers such as Fez or Rabat. Vintage Moroccan rugs are considered investment pieces, with their enduring aesthetics and characteristic patina increasing in value over time. People interested in collecting rugs usually visit antique stores to look for original pieces that are rich with history and that can add charm to their houses.

Conclusion:

Rugs occupy an important place in the traditional Moroccan quilts, serving not only as functional objects but also as expressions of tradition, craftsmanship, and art From the rolling terrain of the Atlas Mountains to the souks of Marrakech with many people on it, the heritage of Moroccan rug weaving is still there, relating to history, culture, and creativity She weaves the threads together. Whether it's the stunning Berber rugs, the exquisite designs of traditional Moroccan carpets, or the timeless beauty of antiques, Moroccan textiles continue to inspire fans around the world and blur the lines between past and present, tradition and innovation many times too fast-moving world of Moroccan Rugs reminds us to slow down, appreciate the exquisite craftsmanship, and show the details woven in appreciation of each thread. Read the full article

[exactlythoughtlessenough]

For Honor, Home, and Love

Here's something I wrote on fanfictionnet for Victorious ages ago and was surprised by how much I still kinda like it. Of course there are things I would word differently or alter now, but meh.

Tuesday holds a special place on the weekly page, though at first glance and to most it is merely an insignificant day nestled between the dreaded Monday and the hope giving Wednesday. But it is far more than just another day. Tuesday is without question the most surprising day of the week. One might argue that this title would be held by Saturday or Friday, where crazy shit was bound to go down… however that's just it, you expect those two days to provide the unexpected, making it in effect less unexpected. Thursday is just pre-Friday, and Sunday the day of regret for the previous two. No, Tuesday is the day that no one sees coming, despite it always being there. On Tuesday you can go from perfectly normal to up to your ass in leeches and never have seen it coming. Because it is the unexpected that you can never expect, even if you've been down the rabbit-hole before it seems to have the magical ability to erase your memory and make you it's mystery bitch all over again.

Now what does this have to do with the lean brunette young woman in a bedroom not her own, sitting upon a comfy jet black swivel chair waiting for the room's owner to return so that they might be rid of each other's presence? Well, the fact that it's Tuesday and the room belongs to… "Jade, what's this?" The aforementioned young woman asks not a millisecond after she hears the other girl's boots announce her return on the Japanese maple hardwood flooring.

Mentally and physically groaning at what was likely another inane remark about her room or request that would never be fulfilled, Jade draws her eyes sharply toward her 'guest', soon after barking, "Private. So get away from my laptop, Vega!" Swiftly crossing the expanse of the relatively large room to snatch her gorgeous black beauty adorned with a skull crossed with twin scythes from the other girl's mitts. Noticing that it's unlocked and to her dread displaying a short tale she couldn't really identify Jade takes a moment to prioritize her thoughts before asking, "How did you even get in?" Growling at her soon to be formerly living classmate.

What would normally send most anyone without any power over her running in terror only brought a thin smile to Tori's lips, "Your password was written on that sticky note." She points to the desk and a lovely pink post-it inked with black. In a flash Jade grabs the note and crumples it with her non-laptop carrying hand.

Tori merely smiles as she reads the memorized contents aloud, "Sc1ss0rV3ga2D3th…" Jade freezes in place, unable to even form the most basic syllables let alone words, so she can't stop the other girl from continuing to speak, "…which itself raises plenty of awkward and terrifying questions that I really don't want to ask."

As the last word falls silent the room is engulfed in an emptiness of nothing except the two beings currently inhabiting it…and an old wind-up clock sitting on Jade's nightstand ticking away. There was a very interesting story behind the handcrafted brass antique marred with a few dings and scratches…but that's not really the focus of this particular Tuesday now is it?

Given that Tori not only had her….questionable password already carved into brain, but had had access to everything on her laptop… Jade's mind was in free fall without a parachute insight. Then the other girl spoke, "Riiigght, so my family knows I'm here… and I'm not really into being violently sexually assaulted so…" Tori had already risen from the chair and was making her way toward the door when she finished speaking. Not really intent on departing, because there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity presented her by her snooping. She just needed to motivate the fleshy statue to speak, and this was not a situation where Jade could just let Tori go, the pass alone was enough ammo.

And right on cue the other girl stated, "I'm not going to assault you." Though she might strangle her for this invasion of privacy, and that is the fuel she uses to bypass the fear…rage. The one emotion Jade West knew inside and out how to express from its deepest depths was Anger. No one could quite do pissed like she could, no, she was the crowned queen of fury and spite, wrath and revenge. And now she had that wellspring to call upon…

Tori half turns, "Yeah, says your password." Casting her eyes at Jade's hand, still holding the piece of tiny paper bearing a horrible blade soaked in social poison.

Not letting the words phase her Jade fires back, "The idea of a password is that it shouldn't be something that you'd think of." Not letting a breath fall between them, she continues, "Now …don't we have work to do?" Hoping they can drop this with a logical segue from uncomfortable territory.

Completing her turn with her back now to the door Tori offer with a shrug, "Sure…" Then lets a smirk play upon her lips, "…after you fill me in…not literally…" That insinuation earned her a toxic glare, but she resumed anyway, "…on that weird little story synopsis you have there." Pointing at the laptop lazily.

Jade couldn't freakout, she couldn't, that would be bad for so many reasons. The one topping the list is her accidentally revealing far more than she ever wants to without even knowing which story the infuriating girl was talking about…., 'It might be nothing, it might just be one of the play ideas, nothing to worry about in that case,' With her thoughts reigning her in she offers a blanket response, "I am a writer…a good one thank you very much. So I do tend to write things."

Eyebrow raised Tori inquires, "And the lesbian lovers sounding eerie like you and me?"

As the words were fired from lethal lips Jade could feel them leaving blistering trails of pain as they penetrated her heart. But she couldn't be stalled, she had to impede, "What are you talking about?"

Leveling a look of determination Tori strides forward, putting Jade on high alert as she herself takes a step back about to ask what she thought she was doing…. while in the depths of her being she was screaming for the girl to do something, unexpected. To both her dismay and delight all Tori does is reacquire the laptop, then opens it to reveal a tiny poorly thought out almost non-existent scrap of something Jade had typed up in boredom last Tuesday.

A wave of relief washes over her as she recognizes the 'story'. Fighting back the urge to smile with glee Jade offers matter-of-factly, "They're all fictional characters set during a modified ancient Greece. You aren't in it." Adding a dash of venom at the end.

"Bullshit." Is the last word spoken before the laptop was tossed on the bed in the same motion as Tori steps forward, invading Jade's personal space once again… but this time not stopping until she was sharing the same air. Mere inches away deep chocolate eyes revealing twin mirrors, reflecting nothing, yet revealing too many truths to be properly comprehended in one day. Tori had obviously read more than just that silly little piece of scrap, she had to have accessed the Jori files…stupidly named, nevertheless unrelentingly accurate. There the accursed writings of a madwoman besot with malice and pain forged tales of love and life that could easily open so many doors… but the content, the inspiration would never be revealed, for there written for none to ever see was her greatest fear…

…and love,

Tori Vega.

[mogulinteriororlando]

[indiatrendzs]

Mogul Interior beautifully captures the allure of Antrique Doors

Visit Our Online Store At Chairish Mogul Interior Mogul Interior beautifully captures the allure and significance of antique doors, emphasizing their transformative power in turning a space into a work of art. The idea that these doors carry not just physical beauty but also a historical narrative within their craftsmanship adds a layer of depth to their appeal. Meticulously handcrafted antique…

[de-corpasadena]

Imagine this as your new gate 😍. Part of our new shipment, this antique Indian door has a meticulously carved frame with original iron straps. The teak has a charming sun bleached finish as this door has been exposed to the elements for over a century. See more of these piece at de-cor.com or DM us with any inquiries. . . . #cozyhome #interiorstyle , #vogueliving, #modernfarmhouse, #farmhousefanatics, #neutraldecor , #Californiacasual #homedecor #indiandecor #bohostyle #boho #interiordesign #interiorstyling #homedecor #indiandecor #bohostyle #boho #interiordesign #interiorstyling #eclecticdecor #furnituredesign #bohochic #interiorstyle #homedecorating #homestyling #instagood  #losangeles #interiorlovers #interiordesignideas #antiques #indianantiques #antiquedoor #handcrafted #gypsystyle #myhome #moroccan #rusticdoor https://www.instagram.com/p/CfsTMkWJ-yE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[youngarcadecrown]

Crafting Comfort & Charm: Modern Farmhouse Design for Your Idyllic Rural Haven

Creating your dream farmhouse is more than just building a house; it's about creating a homestead that reflects the comfort and charm of rural living while incorporating modern conveniences and design aesthetics. Whether you’re renovating an old property or starting from scratch, these design tips and ideas will help you create a picturesque rural retreat that’s both functional and inviting.

Embrace Rustic Elements with a Modern Twist

A farmhouse is all about rustic charm, but that doesn't mean it can't be stylish and contemporary. Incorporate reclaimed wood for beams, flooring, or wall accents to add warmth and texture. Consider modern fixtures and sleek finishes to bring a fresh perspective to these traditional elements.

Open Floor Plans for Family Living

The heart of the farmhouse is the kitchen, and an open floor plan can tie this space together with dining and living areas for a seamless flow. It's perfect for family gatherings and entertaining, creating an inclusive environment where no one is cut off from the activities and conversations.

Maximize Natural Light

Make the most of the scenic views by installing large windows and glass doors. Not only does this connect the indoors with the outdoors, but it also floods your home with natural light, making spaces appear larger and more welcoming.

Choose a Neutral Color Palette

Neutral colors provide a serene and calming backdrop that allows your farmhouse's architectural features and landscape to stand out. Whites, beiges, and light grays can be complemented with soft blues or greens for a touch of color.

Incorporate a Porch or Patio

A classic feature of farmhouses, a wraparound porch or a spacious patio extends your living space into the outdoors. It's a perfect spot for sipping your morning coffee or enjoying the sunset over the fields.

Functional Yet Stylish Storage

Farmhouses often come with the need for storage. Opt for built-in shelves, classic wooden cabinetry, or a large pantry to keep essentials organized while maintaining the aesthetic appeal.

Sustainable Features

Incorporate sustainable technologies like solar panels or geothermal heating to reduce your environmental footprint. These features not only pay homage to the farmhouse's traditional self-sufficiency but also provide long-term cost savings.

Landscaping that Complements the Natural Surroundings

Choose native plants and trees for your landscaping to blend seamlessly with the surrounding countryside. A well-designed garden can also provide fresh produce for your kitchen while enhancing the farmhouse's rustic appeal.

Furniture that Tells a Story

Select pieces that reflect the farmhouse spirit—think antique wooden tables, vintage chairs, and handcrafted decor. These items bring character and history into your home, making it feel lived-in and loved.

Personalize with DIY Projects

Finally, adding personal touches through DIY projects can make your home uniquely yours. Whether it's hand-painted tiles, a homemade quilt, or a custom-built barn door, these elements ensure your farmhouse reflects your personality and style.

Creating your dream farmhouse is a journey that combines tradition with personal expression. By following these design tips and ideas, you'll be well on your way to building a rural retreat that's both picturesque and perfectly suited to modern living. Remember, the key to a successful farmhouse design is in the balance of old and new, creating a space that's timeless and full of warmth.