#oval console table

[unicefindia]

Medium Sun Room in Charleston Mid-sized image of an Asian ceramic tile sunroom with a typical ceiling

[danaportwood]

New York Dining Room Mid-sized contemporary enclosed dining room idea with a medium-toned wood floor, beige walls, and no fireplace

[rockawayrecordfairs]

Dining Room New Orleans Mid-sized elegant medium tone wood floor and brown floor enclosed dining room photo with white walls and no fireplace

[styckywycket]

Enclosed Dining Room (St Louis)

[kimoray]

Music Room Living Room

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wring your hands as you watch Steve drift along the other wall. The white tee shirt makes the ink on his arms seem starker as he has a thumb hook in his jean pocket, the other reaching to take an oval frame from the console table. 

You squeeze your fingers tight, until they might crack, then release the tension along with your breath. He sets the picture back down and stands straight, looking around emphatically.

“Nice place,” he remarks as he faces you, “lots of space for you… and your… boyfriend?”

You watch him dully, “it’s nice.”

He is unfazed by your blunt deflection, “these old century townhouses, there’s not many of those left. I remember my mother lived in one. A few streets away.” He nears you and you brace yourself. He angles his arm towards you and shows you a banner that reads, ‘Brooklyn strong’.

“Oh, that’s very nice,” you lean back on your heel and pivot. “We should probably get started, we’re already behind.”

“You’re from Brooklyn too?” He asks as he goes to the bench.

“Grandparents lived here. They left me the place.” You take out a folder, the typical package you have ready for beginners, “we’ll start by tracing your hands.”

“Alright,” he stands close as you open the folder on the back of the piano. You turn and pluck a pencil from the jar on the shelf.

“It’s just… an exercise,” you explain as you hand him the pencil, “trace left then right and label them left and right.”

“Oh, wow,” he accepts the pencil, “this feels like grade school.”

“Hmm, well, yeah, my students are typically younger… my older students have a little more experience.”

“No, no, I’m excited,” he says as he spreads out his hand on the paper. His hand is huge. 

You spin again and slip out another looseleaf and hand it over, “for your other hand.”

You set it down on the polished wood and he thanks you quietly as he focuses on following the outline of his long fingers. Looking at his hand makes you feel tiny. Your eyes scan the small stars on each knuckle, red, white, and blue. The ring finger is untouched.

He finishes the exercise and you go over the five-finger system with him. It feels so ridiculous. He’s not a child but you find it simple and easy. When you have that all done, you fold up the file and put it aside.

“Sit,” you gesture to the upholstery.

He obeys, looking down at the keys as he rests his hands on his jeans. You think about grabbing a stool as you consider the limited expanse left beside him. You can fit. You lower yourself and hit a key.

“We’ll go over the musical alphabet now, low to high.”

You sense his gaze, intent on you as you go through the usual introduction. You pause and have him repeat what you just did on the keys. He does it slowly as his arm presses to yours.

“Now from middle C,” you instruct and demonstrate. “You want your hands at middle C.” You raise your hands, “left: F-G-A-B-C, right: C-D-E-F-G. Thumbs together.”

“Right,” he does exactly as you say. He has good form as he keeps his hands on the keys but not heavy.

“Good,” you get up and take the metal TV tray from the small rack tucked beside the shelf. You unfold one and bring it around to his elbow. Your grandfather always had one open beside his leather chair. The paint shows the wear. “Now, we will go through a warm up and have you write it out.”

“Okay,” he watches you. His blue eyes are so brilliant and intense. You realise, he’s been looking at you for longer than you knew. You take the folder and open it up again. “I appreciate the patience.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you spread out a blank sheet, “you’re much less fidgety than a six-year old.”

“I hope so,” he chuckles.

“So, our goal by the end is for you to play one song. Does that sound good?”

“A whole song?” He echoes, “uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Nothing too complicated,” you turn the folder to him and put the pencil across it, “so as we learn, we’ll write down what we play and this will help you learn to read music.”

“Right, let’s do the spider song as our warm-up,” you stand beside the piano. You can’t bear to sit next to him, not as you feel the sweat still speckling on your neck and beading under your hairline. 

“Spider song?” He grins, “that’d be a good tat, huh? A spider?”

“Um, I guess, I…”

“You’re not spider girl, though,” he says, “flowers.” He glances over at the window sill then back to you. His eyes descend slowly and you struggle not to wilt. You feel like he’s looking right through you, “poppies.”

You nod and shift your feet closer together, “I appreciate the simplicity.”

“Ha, I can never keep a plant alive,” he snorts, “you must just have that gentle touch that helps them thrive.”

“Well, um, I think we should get started,” you cross your arms and stride behind him, going to the other side of the piano. “Middle C.”

🎹

The lesson is as successful as any other. You stand at the corner of the piano as Steve keys out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. He hits the last note with the same pride shown by the bouncing seven-year olds that perch in that very spot daily. 

“Great. You got your first song,” you say, “there’s a print-out in the folder,” you point beyond him, “it shows the keys, I know it’s not the same but it’s a good way to practice position. You can use that if you want to practice between lessons.”

“Between lessons,” he pulls his hands into his lap, “does that mean I passed? I get to come back?”

“That’s up to you. If you really want to learn, you’re going to need to keep at it. Older students tend to take a little longer. Um, sorry, not to… I hope that isn’t insulting.”

“Nope,” he claps his legs and turns, standing from the bench. He pushes his head side to side and cracks his neck, “I’ve always needed a little extra love, you know? I can be a bit bullheaded. Sam says I got a thick skull.”

You know he’s trying to be friendly. There’s just something off. You still can’t believe he’s really there or that you let him in. To that point, you’ve been going through a routine, letting the steps guide you through. Now, you’re at a loss. There is no parent coming to usher him out of your home.

“I got the fee,” he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, “I guess I should’ve paid at the start.”

“No, uh, that’s fine,” you eke out.

“So uh, same time next week? Do you think maybe I could come back sooner?”

“Um, I’d have to look at my schedule. I’ll call–”

He holds out several bills and you accept them quietly. You always find the payment is awkward, even if it’s the whole point. You are offering a service, you deserve everything you earn. 

“Great, I’ll keep my phone close.”

The silence rises to strangle you. You peer around, grasping the bills tightly. What do you say to make him go? It’ll be easier to tell him you’re at capacity over the phone but you can’t then. Not to his face.

“You know, I still didn’t get a good look at your piece. Do you mind?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Your ink,” he nods at your feet, “do you mind if–”

He doesn't finish his question as he bends to look at your legs. You sway uncertainly and turn, pointing your toe to present your ankle to him. You don’t know what else to do. He examines it and you wince as he reaches to touch the skin beside it.

“Sam’s a talented guy,” he drags his fingertips away and stands, “helps when you have a great canvas. It suits you, sweetheart.”

Your brows rise as you gape at him. You quickly snap your mouth shut and fold your hands together. Your heart is pulsing behind your ears. You need him gone. This is your space and he’s intruded for long enough. The lesson is over.

“Don’t forget your folder,” you flit away from him and fold up the file, “here.” You face him again and push it against his chest, “I have to clean up for my next lesson.”

“Clean– this place is immaculate,” he looks around as he clutches the folder by the edges, “I don’t think–”

“Please, I have a lesson to prepare. Don’t forget to practice.”

You take a step back as he gazes at you. Unmoving. You might be telling him to go but it’s entirely his decision. Your nerves ping at the thought that you could not make him go. That if he stays long enough, he’ll realise your lie. Your excuse. He is your only lesson that day.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he relents at last as he tucks the folder under his arm, “see ya next week.”

You’re paralysed as you watch him cross the room. He disappears down the stairs and you listen to the creak of each step. At the bottom, you hear him shuffling around and when you find the courage to go look down, the door closes behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and quickly twist the lock. You let out your breath and lean into the wind as you let out a shuddery breath. His scent lingers. You’ll have to open some windows and light some incense. Hopefully, you can forget all about him.

[saiyanwitcher]

Prince of Death chapter 19 concept images:

Listen, don't kill me 😭 It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.

The office was relatively small compared to the other rooms Charles had been in on the ship. There were two chairs with tan leather-like material pleated over the sitting surface and a smooth one piece metal frame that sat on a rounded base. 

A console rested on top of a small foldout table displaying a planet's scouting data, along with a tablet and a scouter resting mounted on the tabletop. The large oval window behind the commander gazed out to the stars whizzing past and only a few dim lights lit the space.

Back in the ship's corridors, Charles ran as fast as he could for a while until he didn’t know which direction to go. All the walls looked the same, a disorienting maze of metallic gray that offered no sense of direction. Panic surged through him as he realized he had no idea where he was.

Read on AO3

[harmonaesthetic]

how do i make my room more like vi’s?

Any of the following will do the job:

industrial lighting

aged metals

antique decorative items

books

framed insects

belts and fabrics hanging around

dark wood Venetian blinds with a standard pull cord

chalk board

a mirror (i.e., floor standing, oval wall mirror with clear clips, table mirror)

console table

nightstands

shelving unit/bookcase

throw pillows

poufs

Feel free to check out my tag for Violet's room!

[katsujiiccfinds]

Daphne's British Regency Part III

Daphne's British Regency Part III, contain additional furnishings for your Regency loving Sims. The Sims 3 items include a pillow for the bench, blue vase, decorative box, oval nightstand, porcelain vase, dressing screen (cloned from a dresser), console table, decorative wall panel, and a yellow alabaster box.

A Daphne's British Regency collection folder is available for download at: https://www.mediafire.com/file/oow5q5ydwwqi3im/cash_daphne_british_regency_collection.package/file

Credits: TSR Workshop

TSR Sims 3 Download

[revnah1406]

Mason’s Legacy -

Chapter 4: Cold

WARNING: References to torture and violence. Non-accurate medical procedures.

<- previous chapter Next chapter ->

___________

The clouds were beginning to separate, leaving a path for that dark blue sky, which was beginning to lighten thanks to the first rays of sun that were peeking over the horizon, even so, despite the fact that the clouds were beginning to leave, they still dropped small and delicate snowflakes that slowly descended until they accumulated on the ground, they fell so slowly that they looked like particles suspended in the air.

It was the first moments of the morning, it looked as if a blue blanket covered everything, as if someone had put a blue filter in front of your eyes. The atmosphere was cold and very silent. The only thing that could be heard was the howling wind among the remains of a battle already finished hours ago. The silence after the storm.

Clouds of cold condensation sped from Delta's nostrils and mouth. The dog was panting, sticking its tongue out as a sign of exhaustion, it had gone through the place over and over again, looking for its good friend, it was sniffing the floor of the corridors, the carpet, the rooms, the presidential table... looking for a little trace of the young woman's scent. The dog whined sadly, frustrated at finding nothing but trails that led nowhere. So it marched off again with the others.

When Delta found them, it put its head under David's arm. Looking for consolation

 The man was kneeling in front of the corpse of a bearded soldier. David stroked between the dog's ears, but his eyes were on the corpse, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

This was all his fault... he should have listened to his daughter... not parted... He tried to keep her safe, and the only result he got was the opposite. He was willing to sacrifice himself, hell broke loose on the White House a second time that night after Cordis Die, but he had seen hell many times before. The hell that he now feared burned inside his chest... Guilt, regret, sadness, frustration, pain... The same feeling he had with his father, with his wife, with Woods and now Abby.

He hammered himself with the same sentence over and over again as the lump in his throat tightened more and more until it strangled his heart until it broke.

If only…

The dog nuzzled David's cheek, sniffing in concern. Delta managed to get the man out of his thoughts for a few seconds. David smiled sadly and nuzzled behind the German Shepherd's ears again.

“Sorry buddy…Abby's not here…” David sounded like he was broken inside it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to Delta. He looked around, all the corpses of soldiers lying and strewn across the floor of the Oval Office, blood staining the carpet, each with their respective pool of blood. In a way, his heart felt relieved not to see her daughter's body among those of the soldiers, maybe he wouldn't be able to bear it.

“They were killed with a clean shot to the head… They must have been taken by surprise.” Harper was pacing the scene, knocking over a soldier with his foot. “Some have blast burns”

David got up, walked to the table where he had left Abby's things there, which he had previously collected from the room where they stayed that night, or at least, what little was left of that room. He took the jean jacket between his fingers and stroked the fabric with his thumbs. The clothes still had the scent of his daughter, the smell caused cracks in the man's heart and increased the feeling of guilt.

"Maybe they managed to run away." David mentioned trying to find some possibility that would give him hope.

Harper pursed his lips and shook his head slowly.

“The emergency convoy is still in the same place, they have blown it up.” Harper explained with a pained expression. He sighed through his nose and swallowed hard. “Hyenas are practically mercenaries, they were after the president and they probably took Abby too…they thought she might be of value. Maybe they thought she was the daughter of someone important."

David turned to his friend.

"So she's alive"

Harper was looking at his best friend with a defeated expression. He had given up hope of finding the young woman alive.

“Dave… I've seen those guys in action. I've seen what they do to their prisoners…" Harper pursed his lips and looked away. "And for all the love I have for Abby…I just hope they were quick with her…”

David looked down again at his daughter's belongings. Maybe Harper was right, better to be shot between the eyes than not be strapped to a chair for days. He stroked the jacket one last time before carefully folding it and putting it in Abby's backpack.

Harper sighed again. “There's a Wolves settlement on the other side of Washington, the few remaining renegades will have gone there. I will make a statement to the rest of the cities. We will locate the safe houses and bases of operations of the Hyenas”

Dave didn't need to hear anything else, he grabbed the backpack and the rifle. Harper stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“If we do this… If we take down every location of these motherfuckers door to door… We could put the lives of the President and Abby at risk. If they are still alive"

"I'll find her," he stated. "It doesn't matter if I have to pick up every bit of her." He slung the backpack over his shoulder. “I don't give a shit if I have to go across the country just to bury her. But I'm not going to sit idly by."

________________

Abby watched the scene before her with a strange tranquility. Like a perfectly performed play, so much so that it seemed almost real. Mom cooked that delicious stew that she only prepared when dad came home after a long time. She stirred the ingredients inside the pot in a rhythmic, circular motion as she tilted her head letting David kiss her cheek gently. Holding her from behind, rocking her body from side to side gently, almost like a slow dance moved by love.

“Don't ever say 'I told you',” Abby mumbled.

"You know I'm right." Woods responded by appearing at her side, as always dragging his wheelchair with him.

Abby laughed bitterly and shook her head.

“You are just an interpretation of my subconscious. I don't even understand why my head chose you…”

"If I'm just your subconscious, why didn't you listen to yourself?" Woods answered looking at the young woman.

"I tried"

"you didn't try hard enough"

David made his wife turn around so that she was now looking into his eyes. Alice laughed, rubbing off on David. They kissed tenderly, as if everything was fine, as if the rest of the world didn't matter at all.

“I don't even know if Dad's alive…” Abby murmured sadly, looking at the loving couple.

"Do you think he's dead?" Woods asked, looking in the same direction.

"Well... Now he appears in my dreams together with mom"

"Not everyone who appears in dreams is a ghost from the past that comes to torture you, Abs."

Abby gave a small smile but didn't say anything. They were both silent for a moment.

"Now you know what to do, right kid?"

Abby sighed shakily and nodded unconvinced.

"I don’t want to wake up…"

"You have to, you can't stay here all fucking day." Frank chuckled, teasing and trying to take the fear out of the girl's eyes.

But Abby didn't seem fazed.

"I'm afraid of what might happen to me... I don't even know where I am or what happened to me, Woods"

The old man sighed and put his hand on her knee.

“I know it's scary, but you have to face it on your own. You’re smart and stronger than you think. I will wait for you here."

A bucket of frozen water hit Abby square in the face. She woke up with a start, coughing and gasping for breath from the sudden rush of water through her nostrils. Her eyes were wide open, without even blinking she looked in all directions in panic, trying to recognize where she was, her mind was going so fast that she wasn’t even unable to process what her eyes saw.

"I see we're all awake!" The voice of an unknown man made Abby turn her head in his direction. "Perfect, we can start then"

Abby watched the man without even blinking yet, still trying to catch her breath and breath. The man had manic eyes, wide open and the pupils so dilated that you could hardly see the clear blue of his eyes. Gunpowder, dust, and dried blood stained his skin. From the way he moved, Abby deduced that the blood wasn't his, he didn't seem hurt.

Abby looked at her wrists, they were tied tightly to the arms of the chair she was sitting on, her ankles seemed to be in the same situation. The wire cut into her skin and circulation. She would try to move her hands to pump blood to her fingertips but it only made the sensation worse.

"We started the introductions without you. I hope you don't mind. You didn't seem to want to wake up, luckily we fixed that problem, right?" The strange good humor of that man gave the young girl goosebumps.

That subject walked around the room without any concern. Gesturing with his hands in a theatrical way.

Abby stopped looking at the man and took in who was in front of her. Bosworth was in the same situation as her. Tied hand and foot to a chair. The president had her head down. She had been beaten, perhaps tortured. Abby wasn't sure how long they had been here and how long the president had been through. Abby felt the dried blood on her forehead, perhaps from when she was hit in the head, she wasn't able to tell how long she had been unconscious.

She looked around, trying to recognize the place, perhaps planning an escape route. It was a large room, with no windows, only a small old light bulb hung from the ceiling and swayed, threatening to fall at any moment. Apart from the chairs and tables, the furniture was somewhat strange, there was a workbench with strange tools neatly arranged on them. But what caught her attention the most were the huge number of computers and screens that illuminated more than the sad bulb hanging from the ceiling. It looked like an old media room, with radios and microphones scattered across the tables. Abby cursed in her thoughts. She had to find a way to get out of there. Her eyes fell on a small pair of pliers that were lying on the ground a short distance from where she was, perhaps if she managed to pick them up... She gritted her teeth in anguish, but when she applied pressure with her jaw she realized that the USB drive was still there. . She had hidden it inside her cheeks as a desperate measure. She was very surprised that she hadn't lost it in her sleep time.

Suddenly someone yanked her hair back.

 "I like people to listen to me while I speak, you rude brat" the man's voice appeared very close to her ear.

Abby grunted in pain, but said nothing. She knew that if she spoke they would realize that he was hiding something.

The man was going to speak again but suddenly the metal door behind Abby opened. A pair of heavy boots were heard.

A second man entered the room, took it easy, and walked with slow steps. The man with the manic eyes was still gripping Abby's short hair, not letting her turn her head. What she could see was the president's face darken, her expression changed completely. A mixture of anger and fear crossed her face.

When the man appeared in the periphery of Abby's eyes, she caught a glimpse of the new arrival. Abby found it both curious and intimidating to look at. He was a tall man, middle-aged, with broad shoulders and a broad back. He was dressed in black, several dog tags dangling from his neck, jangling with every step he took. His head was covered by a hood and part of his face was hidden by a black gas mask. Abby swallowed as the man looked into her eyes. His left eye was white, he seemed to be blind, a vertical scar crossed his eye, it seemed that he had suffered damage.

The man didn’t take his eyes off the young woman at any time, nor did Abby. They started a staring contest without saying a word.

"What is this?"

Abby was surprised by the Russian accent that flowed over the consonants of the words. It made him briefly remember the man with the eyepatch whom he had bumped into at the White House a few hours ago. 

Were they related?

"This…" The man tugged at Abby's hair some more, causing her to growl, "it's truth serum, sir."

The man with the white eye analyzed the young woman for a few seconds. Abby didn't blink and didn't look away. She knew that if she showed even a hint of weakness, she would be doomed.

To her surprise, the man was the first to look away. "Make it quick, Varl…" The man left the room without saying anything else. Then two more men came in, looking as big as a wardrobe. They wore the Hyena insignia on their jackets.

The man named Varl finally released Abby's hair. She was able to breathe in relief for a few seconds and then look up and look at that man with hatred. It was clear that he was the leader of the Hyenas, getting rid of him was going to be a difficult task, maybe escaping from that place was going to be a worse task.

Varl walked up to the president and smiled cynically again. The two Hyenas got on each side of the chair where Abby was. She looked at them with little confidence. One of them took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, took one out and put it between his lips. The gorilla lit his cigarette and took a couple of puffs.

"I think we all know the rules of this." He began to say, "You tell us what we want to hear, and no one will get hurt."

Bosworth frowned, she wasn't going to show weakness either. "Now you can torture me all you want, I'm not going to tell you anything."

Varl chuckled and shook his head.

"No no no… I don't think you've understood it yet, Madame President… It's not you we're going to hurt."

The Hyena stubbed out the cigarette on Abby's arm. The touch triggered painful spasms. It burned her skin, the faint smell of burnt meat and tobacco filling her nostrils. Abby grunted in pain, but she didn’t scream. No, she couldn't open her mouth.

Bosworth's eyes widened in fright. She wasn’t going to be the one who would pay the consequences of her silence. 

"Let's see how much your clear conscience can take." Varl muttered in a cynical, almost sadistic tone. "The USB. Where is it?"

Bosworth watched Abby for a few moments, who was trying to recover. The young woman began to sweat and pant. The president closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

"I'm not going to tell you…"

Varl looked at the ceiling and sighed. "Very good. Let's start again" And without thinking twice, he turned and punched Abby's face hard. Abby's head jerked around from the blow, her cheek burning inside, the cigarette burn on her arm stinging.

Bosworth unconsciously tried to get up from the sudden punch. As if she wanted to stop him but the wires held her to the chair.

Abby had to go over all her teeth with her tongue. It seemed to her a miracle that she hadn't lost any. She was grateful that the punch wasn’t on the cheek where she hid the USB. It would have been so much worse.

"I'm sorry…" Bosworth tried to apologize. Guilt was beginning to build inside her. She had gotten Abby into this. And now the youngest suffered the consequences. But she couldn't say anything. She couldn't tell where the USB was located. What was more important? The life of a single girl? Or the fate of the world?

"Apologizing won't fix anything…" Varl walked to the workbench and began fiddling with the strange tools and objects. "Those are empty and hypocritical words… So I'll repeat it one more time. Where is the USB drive?"

They all looked at Bosworth. Waiting for an answer, but she just looked away and closed her eyes. Abby sighed through her nose. Shit… this was going to be long…

Varl looked at the ground and then at Abby. He grabbed a tool and approached her.

"Itis not personal."

_________

Abby was tired, her head down, her eyes on her lap. Watching as the blood dripped from her nose and mouth to stain her shirt and pants. But that didn't matter, the clothes had already been stained with blood for hours. The right arm looked like a mosaic or perhaps an abstract painting with the numerous small cigarette burns, all in a circular shape with a dark red hue. Her fingers were numb, the absence of a couple of nails had been bothering her for a while. Abby was sure she had a couple of cracked ribs at the very least, one of the hyenas had been having fun with the iron fist.

But the USB was still hidden. She didn't scream, she didn't open her mouth at any time, she just grunted in pain and clenched her teeth. She doubted the state of the device was the best, but at least they hadn't found it yet.

She was exhausted, she just wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to go home with her mother… with Woods… She wanted to talk to him, maybe he would know what to do in these situations. Abby was sure old Frank had been through something similar. She also wanted to go back to David, she wanted to continue her trip to Alaska. Abby was beginning to dissociate, perhaps as a defense mechanism or simply because she wanted this all to end once and for all, of one result or another..

Varl's clicking of his tongue as he massaged his sore knuckles brought Abby slightly out of her thoughts.

"You are a very persistent kid, I must admit that." The man cracked his neck and looked at Bosworth "and you have a heart so much worse than mine. All this…" Varl jerked a thumb at Abby "It's your fault. If you had told us where the USB is this wouldn't have happened." ."

Bosworth knew she couldn't make amends. She couldn't repair the damage that had been done to Abby, but she had made up her mind.

Varl sighed as he received no response from the woman. "Okay…we're running out of time Madame President. Maybe we need to cut the bullshit and put the games aside." and with a simple nod of his head to one of his men, a wire wrapped around Abby's neck and he squeezed with all his might.

"NO!" Bosworth was startled.

"Yeah! This is what happens when you make decisions, Madame President!" Varl exclaimed. He had succeeded in making the woman falter. He had her where he wanted her.

The oxygen flow was cut off for Abby. Suddenly she stopped breathing. The pressure of the wire cut the skin on her neck, squeezed her arteries, and strangled her throat. Abby wriggled as she could trying to get free, fighting as hard as her body would allow. She wanted to open her mouth to cough, to try to catch a breath of air that she knew would never come. But she didn't open her mouth, no, she kept it shut the whole time. High, hoarse growls escaped from between her teeth. Like an animal in a pure state of hysteria.

"Enough! She has nothing to do with this!"

"I've already told you countless times!" Varl grabbed Bosworth's jaw and glared at her with wild eyes. “This is all your fault! WHERE IS THE USB?!”

Bosworth's eyes filled with panic and fear. My God, Abby had a lot to live for, she was still young. What she was doing? She was witnessing an innocent person's life being taken away. Varl was right, it was all her fault. She shouldn't have brought her into all this.

"WHERE?!"

"OK! I'll tell you! Now let go!"

"Not until you tell me where it is."

“It's in the White House! Under the floor of the Oval Office, right where the presidential table is!

Varl smiled. "You see? It wasn't that difficult…” With a wave of his hand, Varl ordered the Hyena to stop. The man removed the wire, freeing Abby's neck. She took a huge breath in. Abby struggled and struggled, but ended up coughing loudly. The USB didn't take any longer inside Abby's cheek. On the last cough the device fell into Abby's lap.

Fuck…

A tense silence filled the room. Everyone was looking at the small USB drive. Abby didn’t dare look up. Her eyes were riveted on her death warrant, which now rested in her lap, smeared with blood and saliva.

Varl approached the young woman slowly, with a strange tranquility. Maybe because he hadn't come out of surprise either. He slowly picked up the small USB and looked at it for a few seconds, as if he had found the most valuable object in history. Then he moved his wide eyes to the president, who had a face full of surprise and panic. They were screwed...

"I'm sorry…" Abby muttered so weakly and still trying to catch her breath that she doubted anyone had heard her.

Varl walked up to the president and tilted his head slightly, unblinking, maintaining that psycho look. "You lied to me".

Before Bosworth could defend herself, Varl pulled the gun from his waistband and pulled the trigger. The shot made Abby jump in fear. The chair where the president was fell backwards, the woman with a hole between her eyes.

Abby saw the now lifeless body of the president. Her breathing was shaky, they had just killed the last governor of the United States of America in front of her eyes. That was cruel proof that no matter how powerful you were, you were just as fragile as everyone else. We are human, we die like any other animal. We are not immortal. 

Poor Abby didn't have much time to process the situation, by the time she looked up the barrel of the gun was pointing at her.

The muzzle of the gun came between her eyes, Varl's smile showing almost maniacal amusement. Madness burned in his irises like a forest fire in August. But she showed no fear, lifting her chin and not taking her gaze from him. She was terrified, but she wasn't going to give him the luxury of enjoying it. If she was going to die, at least she was looking into the eyes of her tormentor.

They spent a few seconds looking into each other's eyes, Abby waiting for the shot and Varl looking for a glimpse of fear. But neither of those things happened. Varl's smile stretched to the side.

"No, with you it won't be that fast." And without warning, he deflected the gun toward Abby's abdomen and fired.

A gasp caught in Abby's throat and her body jerked forward from the impact. But Varl didn't let her, he grabbed her hair again and made her look into his eyes.

"You and I are going to have some fun one last time."

And with a jolt he knocked the chair and Abby to the side, crashing to the floor.

"Should we report sir?" One of the Hyenas asked his boss.

Varl took a deep breath, as if he had finished a job well done, he put the USB on the table next to the main screen. "I'll do it. You take care of contacting Verdansk, inform the rest that the loose end has been tied up.” The man nodded determinedly and left the room.

Abby had her cheek pressed against the floor, she was still tied to the chair, she had no way to get up. The bullet wound was beginning to bleed slowly, staining what little was left of her bloodless clothing. shit, shit, shit…! She was screwed, she had to break free and stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Suddenly her eyes fell on the small pliers she found earlier on the floor, if only she could free one arm to grab them...

“You start processing the information from the USB, transfer it to the central computer and send it to the rest. We will be able to continue with the above procedures once the data is recovered.” Varl ordered the second Hyena.

"And what about the kid?" the man asked.

Varl looked at her for a few seconds and smiled "Leave her there, then we'll take care of her, in the purest style of the Hyenas."

Abby completely ignored the conversation between the two men. She had found a way out, and she was not going to give up. Not while she was still breathing.

Varl ended up leaving the room, perhaps ready to report his success to his one-eyed, hooded superior. Leaving Abby alone with that man. The hyena ignored the young woman, grabbed the USB drive and headed for the mainframe computer to process the data inside the device, turning his back on Abby.

That was the perfect moment, Abby began to pull on one of her arms with all the strength she had left. The wires were beginning to cut off the circulation in her wrist, the pressure of the ties was very painful. But Abby didn't care, using every last drop of adrenaline she had left, she pulled and pulled.

C'mon C'mon…

Until the thumb of her hand was dislocated, leaving it in a strange position. Thanks to that, Abby was able to free her hand from the wire that kept it tied to the armrest of the chair. She reached out and managed to grab the pliers. With her remaining useful fingers she managed to use the pliers to cut the wire that was holding the other hand. Without giving it much thought, she put the handle of the pliers between her teeth so as not to make a sound and put her thumb back in place. She channeled the pain into clenching her teeth instead of screaming, letting a tear roll down her dirty cheek. Abby had to admit that her nervous system was numb from adrenaline and fear, yet she felt like she felt nothing and everything at the same time.

She checked that the guard hadn't turned around, the man was still looking at the screen so she continued cutting the wires that tied her ankles. Finally able to push that damn chair out of the way, she dragged herself noiselessly away from it. Her back and ribs complained with every little movement Abby made, but she ignored it. She had to deal with that hyena as soon as possible. So she slowly got up from the ground and grabbed a scalpel that was on the work table along with the rest of the torture tools. Staggering like a newborn deer calf, she slowly approached the man. Trying not to lose her balance, holding on to the furniture with one hand and grabbing the knife with the other.

At that moment she was not afraid to use a knife as she had been on other occasions. Adrenaline pumped blood hard into the hand that held the weapon so it wouldn't falter at the moment of truth. Abby held her breath as if afraid she would give her away, until she was within a safe and appropriate distance. She did not hesitate, at the moment when the Hyena noticed a presence behind him and made a move to turn his head, Abby jumped on top of him, stabbing the scalpel tirelessly into the side of the neck, stabbing the artery, the esophagus and any piece of meat found along the way. The man struggled, trying to get Abby off his back but couldn't get it in time, before his knees gave way. The man collapsed to the ground choking on his own blood. Abby didn't stop stabbing until seconds after the man died.

“Fuck you.”

Abby stood panting, watching unblinkingly as the pool of blood formed around her. At that moment, she realized that she had lost her fear of death, her sense of survival was at its best. She didn't care what she had to do with getting out of there alive. She was willing to kill anyone in order to return to her father, to her family. But unfortunately all that goes up comes down, and Abby wasn't immortal, she was also human. The adrenaline began to fade from her body, she began to feel tremendously exhausted and sleepy.

Abby had to shake her head and slap her cheeks to keep from falling asleep. She looked at her abdomen. The bullet was still inside, the hole was on the right side, the bleeding was little but constant. Perhaps she had been a little lucky and the bullet hadn't hit an artery. Either way she had to get it out or the wound would only get worse. She got up, grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the workbench. There she sat and began looking at the tools until she finally found forceps thin enough to get inside the bullet wound, she also grabbed a second scalpel.

She lifted up her shirt and clamped it down with her teeth, reaching for the scalpel but pausing for a moment. She tried to psych herself up for what she was about to do, closed her eyes, trying to remember how her father did every time he had to remove a bullet from his shoulder or leg. She used to help stop the bleeding and keep the wound clean, but David was usually the one who got the bullets out of the flesh. Well... that was the moment to remember the steps that had to be taken to remove a bullet and not die trying.

Abby glanced at the door to see if anyone was coming in, then sighed heavily.

"Fuck it..."

Gripping the scalpel as best she could, she made small incisions above and below the wound to make it a little larger so that the forceps could enter it. Abby grunted in pain, reflexively tensing her abdomen causing her two fractured ribs to hurt. When she was done with the cuts, she tossed the scalpel on the table and grabbed the forceps, where she stuck them into the wound and began poking around inside the wound until she touched the bullet.

“Son of a bitch…” Abby cursed at the intense pain she felt.

After several attempts she managed to get a good grip on the slippery bullet and with a very shaky hand she managed to pull it out. She tossed the forceps and bullet onto the table and quickly grabbed a rag to cover the wound and try to stop the bleeding. She needed something to plug so she could fill the hole and not bleed out in that chair.

She looked around without finding anything of the right size until her eyes fell on the computer that was previously being used by the man who now lay dead on the floor.

“Don't fuck with me…” she murmured tiredly.

She struggled to her feet and staggered over to the computer. She was about to remove the USB until she noticed the files that were open on the screen. Many were of lab locations, bunkers, weapons stores, old black and white photos of people she didn't recognize. Until her eyes came across a file that caught her eye.

"Project Blackout?" Abby opened the file and began to read “Stem Cell Mass Reproduction Program…Organic Tissue Regeneration…Memory Recovery…? What’s all this bullshit? Abby was completely curious about what she was reading. Eternally long files that spoke in overly complex terms and technicalities that she had never heard of. "Holy shit…" Abby frowned. "Are they trying to bring fucking dead people back to life?"

At that moment she realized why Bosworth was willing for her to die. All that was inside that USB was highly classified information, capable of turning wars around, it could change the entire world if all this came to light! Abby glanced at the president's corpse. For a moment she felt sorry for her, almost forgiving her for letting herself be tortured for hours. She shook her head and looked back at the screen. Abby didn't know very well what the Hyenas' intentions were, but they were allies of Perseus as Varl said in the White House. It was better that Abby took all those files away from them. She would give them to Uncle Harper, he would know what to do with them.

So Abby made a copy of everything and put it back on the flash drive and erased everything on the computer. She disconnected the device and stared at it for a few seconds.

Now she had to figure out how to hide a small black USB drive so they wouldn't find it again. Abby looked at the flash drive and then at the bullet wound. she sighed.

“You're fucking crazy, Abby Mason…” she told herself.

Returning to the chair, she put the flash drive on the table and ripped the rag hse had used to stop the bleeding. Luckily the bleeding had slowed down. she used a strip of cloth to wrap it around the USB, leaving the shape resembling a small white cotton chrysalis. she inserted the device surrounded by the cloth into the bullet wound. It hurt like hell but she managed to stop the bleeding and hide the USB.

“You're going to have the biggest infection ever…” Abby said, talking to herself again, “but that'll suffice for now. I just have to sew the wound"

Rummaging around the room she managed to improvise a needle and thread. With trembling hands she finished stitching up the wound as best she could. Trying to do it as David taught him.

"Desperate situations, desperate measures," she said, admiring her work.

Her gaze fell on the door. Now she had to find a way to get out of there. She approached the exit and very carefully and slowly opened the door. First she poked her head out making sure no one was around. She ended up going out into a corridor with several doors on each side. That place is not that it had the best appearance in the world, it could be seen that it had been an abandoned and ruined building that was recovered by the Hyenas.

A safehouse? No, it was too big, maybe something more complex. There were stairs leading to upper and lower floors. Abby started walking in either direction, watching her step and listening for every little sound. She was looking for something that could give her a reference to where she was  and how high up the building she was. Perhaps she was looking for a window, something that could give outside, but no matter how hard she searched in those facilities, she couldn’t find anything. The thought that she might be in a basement somewhere crossed Abby's mind. So perhaps the best idea was to go up the stairs that led to the upper floors.

“I told you that you and I will have fun later…” Varl's voice appeared like a ghost just behind her.

Abby didn't have time to turn around, for like last time, something lasting hit her in the back of the head. Making her collapse to the ground.

_________

The cold was the first thing Abby noticed when she woke up. The second thing she noticed is that she was still alive, her body was screaming in pain everywhere but she was still alive. This surprised Abby greatly. She thought she would never wake up again. But no, she remembered that Varl had something special in store just for her.

Abby blinked a few times and looked around. It was night, how long had it been? She was completely disoriented, she didn't even know what day it was, let alone what time it was.

She looked around confused. The smell of the river was carried by the slight cold breeze. Was she on a bridge? Was it the Francis Scott Key memorial bridge? She looked at the ground, she was lying on the asphalt and her hands were tied, this time with a rope.

"You know…"

Abby barely looked up at Varl. He was squatting in front of her. There were several soldiers from the Hyenas around, they carried assault rifles, with their fingers ready in case the trigger had to be pulled. Maybe they started reading Abby as a threat. Each Hyena carried a flashlight with them, illuminating Varl and Abby.

"The true definition of insanity." The man began to explain with a calm tone gesturing with his hands "It's doing the same thing over and over again... Always the same thing... and expecting different shit"

Varl patted Abby's forehead a couple of times, she didn't even bother to push him away. "And that... makes you a person completely lost in your own madness."

He got up and walked to the edge of the bridge. The structure was half demolished. The other half of the bridge was missing, probably sunk into the Potomac River.

Abby noticed that there was a large rubble stone placed just at the edge of the void. She was tied to a rope too.

"But don’t worry." Varl smirked, "We're about to change that."

Abby followed where the rope that was tied to the stone led. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw the rope connect to her wrists. She was tied to the stone.

"Because today." Varl tossed a flashlight into Abby's lap. "Shit will be different."

And with his boot he pushed the stone towards the precipice. Abby's eyes widened in her most pure panic as she watched the stone disappear into the water. It was Abby's most eternal seconds until the rope tightened and the stone dragged Abby into the void with her.

The dizzy feeling came on instantly, just as Abby started to fall. She watched as she inevitably approached the dark mass of water, she knew that the moment she hit it it would be like hitting a concrete floor. In the last thousandths of a second she closed her eyes and gasped for air before burying herself under the waters of the river.

"Abby" the voice of a woman woke her up

"Abby, are you listening to me?"

The named one opened her eyes confused. Her pupils took time to get used to the blinding white light of the hospital room. Abby blinked a few times, realizing she was sitting in a chair, her back aching. Has she been sleeping in that chair? She looked around, she was in the chemotherapy room of the Hospital where her mother worked. She looked out the window, it was raining very heavily.

"Are you alright honey?"

Abby turned her head to her right.

"mom?"

Alice was sitting in an armchair next to her, she had tubes connected to her forearms and hands, a colorful scarf covering her hairless head. Abby remembered that scarf, she always told her mom that she looked like a pirate in that. The woman's eyes were incredibly tired, almost lifeless.

Abby remembered what memory she was in. That was her mother's last chemotherapy session, she fell asleep in that chair for hours.

"It's been a while, honey," Alice replied, caressing her daughter's cheek. “My God… You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you. You are quite a woman now"

"Why here…?" Abby tried to understand why she was remembering that now, she should be home with Woods being a representation of her conscience telling her that she hadn't tried hard enough.

"Listen to me." Alice cupped Abby's face in her tired hands. “You are not dreaming. You shouldn't be here." Alice's expression turned sad and pained.

"Mom, what are you saying?" Abby was completely confused.

“Your time hasn’t come yet. You must go."

Abby shook her head. No, she was with her mother at last, she could hear her voice, she could feel her hands again. This wasn't a dream, it felt different, Abby wasn't playing a part in a perfectly performed play. She could hug her mother, she was not going to part with her again.

"I'm not going mom. I want to be with you!" Abby's eyes began to fill with tears. She started crying like a little girl who just wanted to see her mother. And nothing could comfort her. Abby was tired, she didn't want to fight anymore. She felt like a baby who just wanted to sleep on her mother's lap forever, she didn't want to face the world again.

“You have to wake up, honey… Your place is not here. Not yet… They need you.” Alice spoke sweetly. Abby wiped her tear-streaked cheek with the back of her hand.

"I'm scared mom..."

Alice smiled softly. “You are my pride, you are my love and you are my life. I gave birth to the toughest and bravest woman in this world. And I don't doubt and I will never doubt you.” Alice placed a soft kiss on Abby's cheek and one last one on her forehead. The young woman closed her eyes, feeling the lips of her much-missed mother on her skin.

“You have to open your eyes… Come on my love, open those beautiful eyes. Show the world what you are capable of.”

Abby sighed and nodded.

She opened her eyes, everything was dark, small particles were suspended in the water. Abby was aware that she couldn't afford to let out the air she was holding in her lungs. She forced herself to stay calm, to slow her heart rate down.

The stone had touched the bottom of the river. Abby had to find a way to free herself from her restraints as soon as possible, before she ran out of air.

She found the lantern resting near the rock, dimly illuminating the ground. She took it as she could in her hands and looked around, illuminating the dark waters.

Abby nearly had a heart attack the moment she pointed the flashlight forward. She found the corpse of a man, his face was hardly recognizable, he had surely been eaten by fish for a long time. Abby realized that the man's hands were also tied to a rope connected to a stone. The body floated, trying to rise to the surface but the weight of the stone prevented it.

She illuminated her surroundings, realizing that there were more corpses in the same situation. The victims were countless, they went beyond where the light could reach. The bottom of the Potomac River had become a forest of floating corpses.

She understood that she hadn’t been the only one to suffer that fate. And if she didn't hurry she would end up like them. Her heart rate began to accelerate, she was getting nervous and holding her breath was beginning to become more difficult. The fear of ending up like them was increasing more and more, taking over Abby's mind.

Until her eyes met an object that shone in the light of the flashlight. Abby narrowed her eyes to get a better look. She realized that a sharp piece of metal was stuck in the leg of the first corpse she found. As she could, she tore that object from the dead man's leg. And without wasting much time, she began to cut the rope immobilizing her wrists.

The more effort she made, the more difficult it was for her to hold her breath, bubbles escaped from between her lips, her vision became more blurred and the sensation of pressure in her chest increased enormously.

At last the rope was cut and her wrists were free. Wasting no more time, Abby swam to the surface, using the last of her strength. Every meter she swam she lost a little more consciousness. She had run out of air, now it was a race against time, between his strength and the distance left to get out from under the water.

Abby was about to give up, she didn't know how far she was, until she suddenly stuck her head out of the water. She took as big a breath of air as she could and coughed up all the water she had swallowed. She tried to recover her normal breathing for a few moments. So quickly was she able to recover that she looked for the nearest shore and began to swim towards it. Her movements were slow but steady. She was ready to get out of the water. It advanced slowly until it finally reached solid ground.

Shee scrambled out of the water, coughing and expelling the last traces of water that remained in her lungs. She lay down on the snow, she was soaked. The cold hit as soon as Abby managed to relax her muscles. Snow and wind stuck millions of needles into Abby's skin. Abby's battered limbs were beginning to turn red, almost taking on an almost blue hue.

But Abby didn't care. She stood there looking up at the starry night sky. It was beautiful, you could see the star path of the milky way, she recognized some constellations that were scattered across the sky. She even found some planets. There was Mars, and nearby she found Jupiter.

She didn't know why, but she really wanted to laugh, Abby laughed, alone, lying in the snow watching the stars. Surely she was going to die of hypothermia, but what did that matter now? She had done it! She made it out of that hell hole. She could finally rest...

“Hey mom… I did it”

At that moment a shooting star crossed the firmament. Abby smiled, letting a discreet tear trickle down her cheek and freeze on the way.

Abby stared at the stars for hours, until the sun began to rise in the east. She no longer felt cold, she was not able to lift a finger, but she refused to close her eyes, she didn’t want to stop seeing that stellar spectacle. She wanted to record it on her retina for the rest of eternity, counting the shooting stars that traveled that night, taking note of all the stars she knew: Alpha Centauri, Sirius... also the constellations she recognized, even inventing new groups of stars.

But her peace was interrupted by the noise of a helicopter engine. Abby sighed and frowned. Still, she didn't deign to move, she was too tired for that. A few long minutes passed until she heard a pair of boots crunch in the snow, someone was getting closer.

"Good to see you in one piece." The Russian accent was not lost on Abby.

Abby sighed.

"Fuck off…"

The man approached until he was within the field of vision of the young woman. Abby recognized that strange mustache and eyepatch.

"I must admit that it has been somewhat difficult to find you, Abigail Mason"

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

“It only took a little research, nothing more.” He shrugged.

Abby's eyelids began to feel extremely heavy. Fatigue was taking over her, it was beginning to drag her like a tide into the interior of an ocean.

Noticing that Abby was beginning to drift off, the man crouched down beside her and shook her shoulders.

"Hey hey. Don't fall asleep now” he shook her a couple more times when he didn't receive any reaction or response, he put his hand to the communicator he had at his ear “To all the search teams. I have found the subject, she is in need of immediate medical attention, suffering from severe hypothermia and multiple contusions and profuse blood loss."

Abby felt like she was under water again. All sounds were distant and gradually faded away. The cold stopped stabbing at her skin, she had stopped feeling pain.

"Shit… We're losing her!"

[psychogirlfriendandsupervillain]

Other Man’s Widow - Chapter 1

Female!Reader x Whitey Winn

Modernish!AU (It's kinda 1950's-60's coded?), inspired by the lyrics of Carrie Underwood’s Church Bells and the beat of Hoizer’s Dinner and Diatribes. (Church Bells is the backflashes, Dinner & Diatribes is the vibe of the hot questioning room before the rain.)

Warnings: Abuse, domestic abuse, murder, religious trauma(?). Whitey is an adult and not a kid in this.

Summary: The deputy is sent to console a grieving young widow.

A/N: If I have missed a tag please tell, also this has taken me like two years to get on here.

-

The light that filters in through the halfclosed blinds is turning gray, the weather setting the stage for what would be a tragic story. The clouds had rolled in already around noon, as if it knew to be ready. Despite that the room is suffocating, as if the clouds are a big wet blanket over the town. Sweeping your eyes over the iron legs of the chairs and table you suspect they put you in one of the nicer questioning rooms, as you doubted the station had much room for anything but the absolute necessities. The plastic seat isn’t much comfort but it will have to suffice. A click of the door makes you run your hands over your hem.

“Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Can I get you anything?” The blonde boy is keeping his body in the hallway, likely expecting a positive answer. 

“A cup of tea, if it’s no trouble. Two sugars.” You fold the tiny fabric square in your hands. He gives a close lipped but reassuring smile and disappears back out. You never had much contact with the police in town. This was the first time you had stepped foot inside the police station. It was a tall grey house that had stood since 1884. The inside must have been updated since then, because the inside had much of the modern technology you had heard of on the radio. 

The door clicks open again and the youth steps back into the room. He sets a cup of smoking tea in front of you, with the air of someone trying not to scare a wounded deer, you note. 

“It sure is feeling like there’s thunder coming in.” He muses in the local drawl, looking towards the window as he pulls off a brown jacket, flashing a hint of embroidery hinting by the pocket suggesting personalization. The fabric whispers over the back of the chair before the blonde sits down opposite of you. “I am Deputy Whitey Winn. I know it is difficult right now but I need to write down what happened for the report, is that alright, ma’am?”

The woman in front of him looks frightened. She has been crying but trying to hide it, putting on a brave face. Her dress has a cheerful pattern of tulips, not at all fitting the gloom that has been thrown over this day. Despite the damp air she has kept her blue cardigan on, only the two top buttons undone. He notes the golden oval on a chain resting above the edge of your dress, likely an heirloom if he knows the townsfolk right. Her hands are still gripping the handkerchief, as if scared to let go. The gold band around her finger shines dully. Poor woman. He only hoped that McNue and the others got the place back in order before evening.

“Yes, of course, I understand.” You hide your shock at that the boy in front of you is the assigned deputy. He looks but a child, far too young to be working in such an environment. 

“Now, there’s nothing strange, Mrs Y/n Henderson. You just tell me as you know it, straight forward, alright?” Deputy Winn continues and opens a notebook in front of him.

Mrs John Hendersson. 

“John! Good man, good to see you!” The man came to meet your husband, who tossed the keys to the valet without looking. The valet stumbled but catched them before they met the asphalt. You gave him an apologetic smile. 

There was people milling about the outer deck, but the man herded your husband in to the restaurant, where tables were occupied here and there. John pointed out Daryl and Donnie Devlin, who flited between tables. The twins were those kinds of folks who fit in anywhere, if you’d let them. They were never there with a lady, never there with anyone. They arrived alone, sometimes together. They had business in everything from hardware stores to banking. You hadn’t told John but they gave you the creeps. They were turncoats and would butter up anyone if they smelled an opportunity. When your husband went to greet them you excused yourself to sit with the ladies that had taken up a table by the windows. 

One of them gave a light touch to her head as the others pointed out a couple on a walk. You realised your mistake and removed your wide brimmed hat, feeling the heat rise within you. Always these little mistakes. Not that she was being mean about it. It was just that you felt so out of place with these people who had been going for years. 

“That’s a wonderful dress, Mrs John Henderson.” Commented the owner, who had decided that the women were his jurisdiction while the men chatted. 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but tug at the hem, trying to remember what the length requirement was. “John bought it for our honeymoon.”

You look at Deputy Winn. He has probably never set foot in that country club. He’s leaning on his elbow as he writes, back hunched. There’s dirt under the nails of his hand which supports him against the surface of the table. For a moment you’re glad it’s that way. You who stepped into the police station, and not him being taught a new set of rules for how to dress, greet and eat.

“You married Mr Henderson two years ago, is that correct, ma'am?” Whitey had read the public invitation in the paper, a flower wreath encircling both names. But someone had to be at the station, which fell on him and Maggie. Well, Maggie had been glad not to go, said it was too much of a spectacle for her.

“Yes, June 1954.” You look down on your ring, spinning it on your finger and then clasping your hands in your lap. “I just wanted a small affair, but John said we’d better invite the whole town.” Something between a laughter and a sob escaped you. The air seemed to only get heavier. It would certainly be thunder. You just hoped you would be out of here before then.

The sun was shining that day, filtering through the colored glass, and scattering over the altar. The whole town could not fit inside the church, only family and close friends. Reverend Griffin read the Lord’s blessing over your marriage. Then your walked outside to loud cheers and rice getting all in your hair. It was sweet. You kissed for the newspaper’s camera. 

The reception was held at your parents’ barn, since John’s club didn’t allow non-members, even for a wedding, although they sent their well wishes. Tones of a waltz started up when you and John walked through the flower filled doors. He led you by the hand, brought you smoothly through the motions. You could hear the whole room sigh in awe when he spun you, flaring your skirts to shine in the muted light. The heat rose to your cheek, and you could almost have been taken for more than a little tipsy if you had been seen walking the street. This man was yours to have and to keep, and him you, for as long as you both would live. The nausea and the ache in your feet seemed to have vanished the second you had been declared husband and wife. All was now a giddy whirlwind of light and hope. 

“Congratulations” Louise came into focus beside you at the buffet table, holding a sparkling glass of bubbling gold herself, a bright smile on her lips. Her dark hair was fastened up under a crown of oxeye dasies and buttercups, curls falling out from the dancing.

You ducked your head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Thank you. You look lovely!” You exclaimed after a moment to gathered yourself and gestured towards her blue dress, its loose-fitting skirt sweeping against the white tablecloth as she leaned slightly against it.

“It is the festivities of the season.” Lousie gave you a playful conspiring look before taking a sip and turning to survey the masses. “Reverend Griffin has even let out Reverend Goode from the church for some socializing.” You turned to follow her line of sight. The young priest was holding the hand of Miss Temple with both of his, speaking enthusiastically on some topic illegible at this distance. His brown hair was mussed as usual but his cloth was exchanged for a muted suit and black shirt, white collar still attached. Reverend Griffin stood in the opposite end of the room, patting your husband on the back with a laugh. You elbowed Louise who laughed.

“Don’t say that.” You tried to hold back your own laugh at her mean comment. 

“Well, he seems as a fish in a pond.” She declared with a nod in the subject’s direction, who seemed to be asked to dance. “Evening, Officer McNue.” Her attention turned to Bill, who was reaching for a bread roll on the table on her other side. He retreated a step with his hands up like in a hold up.

“Now call me Bill, I’m off duty.” His dark moustache curled up good humouredly. His uniform browns had given way to a navy suit, dark hair water combed, and shoes shined from the dry dirt that plagued the streets during summer. “Congratulations again, ma’am.” He made a gesture to tap his hat, forgetting it wasn’t there. You curtsied and thanked him.

“Now take that roll.” You laughed, pretending to swat after his arm. “There’s enough to last a week.”

Bill raised his hands again and stepped back towards the bread backet. “Is that an order, ma’am?”

“Yes!” Both you and Louise exclaimed, making all three of you laugh.

“Alright, then I’ll take two.” Bill grinned and picked up his goods. “I heard your dad was looking to get you to join him in a tune.” He pointed one of the rolls at Louise who slipped away with a grin. “And I’m sure your husband wants to see you.” He aimed it at you next, making you laugh.

“Yessir.”

[tynatunis]

Sublissime appartement à Boston réalisé par l'architecte designer Nicole Hogarty. Une nouvelle publication dans Elle Décor India . Visual 1. Avenue Road lounge chairs with Powell & Bonnell side table and Porta Romano table lamp on oval-shaped Landry&Arcari wool and silk rug make for a warm sitting in the living room; Photography credits Jared Kuzia Photography Visual 2. Layered majorly in tones of black, white and brown is this living room featuring Nadee and Albero d’Oro artwork over a fireplace by Newbury Fine Arts, Agatha sconces and Dante cabinet from Holly Hunt, the Bright Group leather wrapped coffee tables and Anees facing sofas on Landry&Arcari wool and silk rugs; Photography credits Jared Kuzia Photography Visual 7. Capturing attention is this Yoahn Han and Titan Arum II artwork from Chase Young Gallery beneath which is a custom sideboard designed by Furniture Design Services reflecting Landry and Arcari area rug. The chair placed adjacent to the primary bedroom hallway is from Avenue Road and the sculpture and lamp are by Holly Hunt; Photography credits Jared Kuzia Photography Visual 8. Showcasing Yubiwaza artwork of Jeannie Motherwell, Gregorious Pineo lamp on walnut with brass inlay custom console designed by Nicole Hogarty Designs is this family room nook; Photography credits Jared Kuzia Photography City living… @nicolehogartydesigns @jaredkuziaphoto #beaconhill #boston #view #detailsmatter #brownstones #interiordesign #bostondesigners #Repost @lmdesignstudio.no Chic o rama - curv a licious ! : : : @nicolehogartydesigns | @jaredkuziaphoto @lmdesignstudio.no https://www.instagram.com/p/CnlhhyZtRJA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kaleenbaba]

Round Office Rug: Enhance Your Workspace with Style

A spherical workplace rug can be the suitable addition on your workspace, bringing both consolation and class. Round rugs help melt the pointy edges usually found in office furnishings, creating a extra inviting and creative environment. At Kaleen Baba, we offer a big choice of current and fashionable spherical rugs that aren't most effective practical however also visually attractive. Round Carpet for Dining Room: Elegance and Practicality A round carpet for the eating room adds a touch of beauty even as imparting a sensible technique to defend your floors. Round rugs paintings rather nicely under spherical or oval eating tables, creating a cohesive and balanced look to your eating place. They assist outline the gap, making your eating room experience greater intimate and properly prepared.

[decorworks]

Five favourite designs by Bieke Casteleyn

I have a confession to make….I am a bit tired of my self designed metal table. Did I once liked really brutal and industrial furniture,  I am looking for a table that adds some more warmth into my interior. If you look up the term industrial on the blog, you see a shift from really all things black and concrete in earlier blog years to a less raw and more design approached industrial feeling. At the moment we see a lot of tables in ceramic and stone and I think this might be a good compromise maybe for my own home. I am aware that the shape of a table is really personal, as a lover of sculptural design I am not sure if a really organic shaped table will do the trick for me.

Bieke Casteleyn

Looking into other shapes, still considering a round table as well, I came across the design of Bieke Casteleyn. Bieke Casteleyn is Belgian designer of high-end interiors and refined furniture. Driven by a passion to create a dining table that challenges traditional standards, Bieke debuted her first Out of Line table in 2015. With its skillfully designed, organic contours, Out of Line soon became an icon of Belgian refinement and craftsmanship. One that has been translated into a carefully considered collection of functional objects: dining tables, coffee tables, desks, consoles, benches and more. I especially loved seeing the layered design pieces, next to the different shaped tables. I could easily see some of the designs in my home. Have a look at my top 3 from the series, and visit the website to explore the full Out of Line collection and discover the different colours available.  

A beautiful bench that can be used in every space, from a dining room to the hallway. I can really see this bench as a statement piece in our homes.

A bedside table like this would really transform my whole bedroom.

The Out of Line shelf creates a standout look, while the blend of materials breathes warmth into any room. The hidden drawer add a surprising element of functionality.

The Out of line in a more classic round shape.

Oval dining table

Opening Picture by Cafeine // 2-3 Bieke Casteleyn // 4 Verne // 5 Stephanie Mathias //6-8 Charlotte Lauwers Read the full article

[sheremoradystuff]

[storerigidindustriesfzc]

Choosing the Perfect Interior Furniture for Every Room in Your House

Selecting the right interior furniture for your home is more than just choosing items that look good; it’s about creating a space that reflects your personality, meets your functional needs, and brings comfort to your everyday life. Whether you’re furnishing a new home or updating your current space, working with an experienced Interior Furniture Company in Dubai can help you find the perfect pieces for every room. This blog will guide you through choosing the ideal furniture for each area of your home, ensuring that every space is both beautiful and functional.

1. Living Room: The Heart of Your Home

The living room is often the most used space in the house, making it essential to choose furniture that is both comfortable and stylish. Start with a high-quality sofa that provides ample seating for family and guests. Consider the size of your living room when selecting a sofa—too large, and it can overwhelm the space; too small, and it may not provide the comfort you need.

Complement your sofa with a couple of accent chairs or a loveseat for additional seating. Coffee tables, side tables, and media consoles should be functional and match the overall style of the room. If your living room has a focal point, such as a fireplace or large windows, arrange the furniture to enhance this feature.

2. Dining Room: A Space for Gathering

The dining room is where family and friends come together to share meals and create memories. The dining table is the centerpiece of this room, so choose one that suits your needs. Rectangular tables are great for larger spaces, while round or oval tables work well in smaller rooms.

Consider the material and style of the table—wood is a classic choice, but glass and metal can add a modern touch. Pair the table with comfortable dining chairs that complement the design. If space allows, add a sideboard or buffet to store dining essentials and display decorative items.

3. Bedroom: Your Personal Sanctuary

Your bedroom should be a peaceful retreat where you can relax and unwind. The bed is the most important piece of furniture in this room, so invest in one that is both comfortable and visually appealing. Choose a bed frame that matches the overall style of the room, whether it’s a sleek modern design or a more traditional look.

Nightstands are essential for keeping essentials like books, lamps, and electronics within reach. A dresser or wardrobe is also necessary for storage, so select one that offers enough space and complements the bed. Consider adding a cozy chair or bench to create a reading nook or a place to put on your shoes.

4. Home Office: A Productive Environment

With more people working from home, creating a functional home office is essential. Start with a desk that suits your work style. If you need a lot of surface area, choose a larger desk, but if space is limited, a compact desk or wall-mounted option might be best.

Comfortable seating is crucial for productivity, so invest in an ergonomic chair that provides support during long work hours. Add storage solutions like bookcases or filing cabinets to keep your workspace organized. Don’t forget to personalize your office with artwork or decorative items that inspire creativity.

5. Kitchen: Functional and Stylish

The kitchen is a functional space, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be stylish. Choose kitchen furniture that maximizes storage and workspace. If you have the space, consider adding an island or breakfast bar for additional seating and prep areas.

Stools or chairs for the island should be comfortable and match the overall kitchen design. Consider open shelving or a hutch to display dishes, cookbooks, or decorative items. If you’re working with a smaller kitchen, focus on multi-functional furniture that saves space while still offering style and convenience.

6. Outdoor Spaces: Extend Your Living Area

Don’t forget about your outdoor spaces when selecting interior furniture. Outdoor furniture should be durable, weather-resistant, and comfortable. Start with seating options like lounge chairs, sofas, or a dining set, depending on how you plan to use the space.

Consider adding an outdoor rug, lighting, and decorative elements to make the space feel like an extension of your home. When choosing materials, opt for those that can withstand the elements, such as teak, aluminum, or synthetic wicker.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect interior furniture for every room in your house is an exciting journey that requires careful consideration of style, functionality, and comfort. By working with a reputable Glass Manufacturer in Dubai, you can find the right pieces that not only enhance the beauty of your home but also meet your practical needs.

In addition to selecting the right furniture, consider incorporating elements from other specialized manufacturers to complete your home’s look. For example, a Glass Manufacturer in Dubai can provide custom glass pieces that add a touch of elegance and sophistication to your space. By thoughtfully curating each room, you’ll create a home that is truly your own, reflecting your personal style and making everyday living a pleasure.