#fancy wall lamps

[whisperinghomes01]

Buy Fancy Wall Lighting Fixtures Online in India | Whispering Homes 2024 - Shop Now

Transform your home with Whispering Homes’ exclusive 2024 collection of fancy wall lighting fixtures. Our selection of decorative wall lights brings the perfect blend of elegance and utility, enhancing your home’s ambiance with ease. From modern to traditional styles, our wall lights cater to all tastes, ensuring the ideal lighting for every room. Whether you need a statement piece or a functional light for daily tasks, explore our wall lighting fixtures online and find the perfect match. Shop Whispering Homes for the best wall lights in India today.

[daybreakatdawn]

Traditional Entry - Front Door Stunning large image of an entryway with a medium wood front door and beige walls and a medium tone wood floor.

[toonass]

Phoenix Glass Front Closet Huge elegant men's travertine floor dressing room photo with glass-front cabinets and dark wood cabinets

[lily-onher-grave]

hang on

movie glinda has an electric lamp

electricity is canon in oz

[sleebyconfy]

..

[thedeviljudges]

how am i supposed to go back to work on monday like my life hasn't literally changed this past week lmaooooo like what

[siobhanromee]

In the waiting room at the dentist and I feel under dressed :/

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Ok, this house is weird. Firstly, I was wondering what was up w/the garage door.

Turns out it's a mirror. Built in 1955 in Palm Springs, CA, it's been remodeled and you must see the choices. 3bds, 3ba, 2,319 sq ft, $1,499,999.

Check out the floor, like a mass murder scene.

Conversation pit decorated with a sofa and tables. Was this once a hot tub?

The stains continue throughout the kitchen.

Two lone side chairs in a corner.

Gray cement walls in the kitchen.

Snacks for the buyers?

Looking out toward the pool from the pit.

Cement dining table. I think it's built-in. It also appears to have a convenient electrical outlet.

It's such a huge space to fill. The sun is casting shadows, but it looks like there are steps here.

The glass wall opens to the pool.

There's a shower room here, but it's open. At least the shower & toilet are behind a wall.

The bedrooms and baths have floors that look watercolor stained. Interesting how they put the bed partly under the arch.

The bed from behind. Is that a fridge?

The ensuite is big, but so sparse and spread out. I would've expected a sink under the neon mirror. This is so ugly.

The secondary bedroom is plain and has floating nightstands installed.

The primary bedroom has folding doors to the patio.

Out by the pool, it looks like they repainted the statues pink and black, themselves. The lamp is broken.

Matching statues.

Nice fruit tree.

Fancy ceiling lights in the garage.

.28 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2275-E-Belding-Dr-Palm-Springs-CA-92262/18019319_zpid/

[followthebluebell]

other thoughts about giant bugs as pets:

endless reddit threads where new moth owners are asking about their moths bumping into lamps

Videos of jumping spiders attempting to jump at movements on a tv or laptop screen

endless debates about the ethics of keeping hots (velvet ants, tarantula hawks, etc)

Actually I bet there would be a LOT of debate about keeping eusocial insects singly. IS it ethical to keep a single ant? Probably not; they require a colony for their mental health

How much research would be done on the mental and emotional health of giant pet insects

Spider agility would involve a LOT of wall-climbing, I bet

"I get him this nice fancy bed and where is my isopod sleeping? In a pile of paper"

[alchemistc]

"I am not packing your kitchen, Buck," Maddie says with a hard set to her jaw and a hand planted on her hip, and Evan sends her a warning look over his shoulder, elbow deep in packing tape and half-folded boxes. Tommy is clearly missing something.

"You found the ring cutter in there with the ladles too, huh?" Snipes Eddie from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and before Tommy can get a firm grasp on that Eddie's tipping his head back through the open doorway. "C'mon guys, seriously, you didn't pack this shit up before you forced us all to help you pack?" There's an unopened tube of lube in his hand.

"I'm getting things off of walls and that is all, Evan Buckley," comes Maddie's quick rejoinder, and Buck levels them both with a look.

"That could be for normal stuff! Sometimes rings need cutting! Sometimes you need to - lubricate other things!"

It is, of course, the moment Bobby wanders through the unlocked door.

Tommy's still familiar with the cadence of Hen and Howie, ribbing and mocking a form of endearment for them both, so he's not exactly shocked when Bobby just rolls with it and starts listing off the last fifteen calls they've needed it for. None of those things particularly improve the red rising up Evan's cheekbones, but Tommy catches the grin Bobby's hiding while he sets boxes of pizza up at the kitchen table, cleared of the latest seasonal decor Evan had dragged him through three different department stores to find, not that he could be bothered to care when the very existence of them was all it took to shift Maddie's opinion of him from tolerantly friendly to encouragingly approving.

("This loft was a minimalists wet dream before you were in the picture," she'd told him one evening, after she'd manipulated him into admitting he was terrified this didn't mean the same thing to Evan as it did to him. "He started nesting a month after my wedding, Tommy.")

And now they're here. Watching Evan pretend to be miffed by the teasing while he fights a roll of packing tape.

He's going to miss the upstairs shower, wide enough for two grown men to fit more than comfortably; and the balcony on cooler nights when he could tempt Evan out for a slow dance set to the late-evening traffic; the kitchen island at the perfect height to lift Evan onto and tilt his head up for an angled kiss.

He won't miss the open plan that makes it impossible to do much of anything with a snoring Eddie right below them, the tuba player two doors down who only seems to practice the moment Tommy's head meets the pillow at the end of any random days-long shift, the way the elevator always smells like tuna on Thursday afternoons.

There are things he won't have to miss, of course. Evan, on nights when they just can't make their schedules align well enough to justify the drive time. The extra fluffy towel set Evan had refused to reveal the origin of ("You'll buy your own and leave me, I know you're only with me for my towels."). The pictures plastered to the fridge that Tommy's spent the last few weeks plotting out space for on his own before deciding he'd need a new fridge just to fit them all. The plant he'd bought Evan to appease the grump, the first time he'd dragged him to the farmers market at the ass crack of dawn, lovingly named Herbert. The fancy adjustable bedside lamps Evan had bought the last time he'd caught Tommy squinting down his reading glasses at the book in his hands. Evan.

Christ, he wouldn't have to miss Evan anymore. They'd synched up their schedules more or less as well as they could, but Tommy's spent months now trying to ignore how quickly a sleepless night could turn restful with Evan in his bed - how fitful a night without him there had a habit of being.

Most of the loft is already packed. Evan's wardrobe has been dwindling for weeks now, a box at a time carted from the back of the Jeep up Tommy's drive, through the mud room, down the hall and straight to the closet that had never seen such a shock of color or variety of fabric. They'd sprung for a bigger mattress, once they'd gotten over the sticker shock and remembered how much they'd be saving by paying half a mortgage each with no rent to speak of, and other than the kitchen table most of Evan's other furniture was being donated.

All that really remained were the kitchen supplies Evan hadn't been willing to move until he handed over his keys, a few toiletries, a single drawer of clothes just in case he needed them. Pictures on the walls and stacks of books on the bookshelves - half a decade of life lived in this apartment and most of it was already half unboxed and slowly integrating into the fifteen years Tommy had put into his own solitary life.

Evan finishes taping boxes and makes a beeline for his itemized list, and Tommy has to pretend it's giving him as much grief as Evan's sister and best friend to see the clipboard in action. He's not entirely sure how well he sells it, when even Bobby's shooting him aggrieved looks only to grimace at whatever he finds in Tommy's expression.

And just like that, an hour passes and the pizza disappears; the boxes are loaded into the back of his truck; the kitchen table in Eddie's; and Maddie tugs her brother in for a hug, drags Tommy in for good measure too, kisses them both on the cheek as she leaves; Bobby tucks a wooden box filled with handwritten recipes on note cards into Evan's hand and Tommy pretends not to notice either of their teary eyes; Eddie hefts a six pack out of the otherwise empty fridge and promises to meet them at the house in forty-five.

There's still one picture stuck to the fridge - a candid from the first barbeque Athena and Bobby had hosted after their move, Tommy and Evan backlit by a setting sun, tucked up against each other leaned against a porch railing, and Tommy knuckles at it while Evan does a slow introspective spin to take in the wide expanse of windows and brick. He's still staring when Evan finishes and drifts towards him, hands tucking in at Tommy's waist, chin hooking over his shoulder.

"Is this one staying?"

Evan shakes his head, nose digging into the side of Tommy's neck. "Just wanted to keep it out so it could be the first one we put up."

He remembers the night. Karen had gotten him drunk and added him to the wives group chat. May Grant had stolen half his slice of cake right off his plate and dared him to protest. Jee had spent the entire night calling him Uncle Tommy and thrown a massive fit when she realized he wasn't going home with her to read a bedtime story. Christopher and Denny had spent half an hour trying to teach him how to play Fortnite and then been mystified when he trounced them in Mario Kart. He knows exactly why it's significant to him. "Why this one?" he asks, curving into the cradle of Evan's arms.

Evan's so much better with words than Tommy is, and Tommy's just grateful Evan takes his actions for the things he means with them. "That's the night I knew what our something was gonna be," Evan murmurs, and Tommy tips his chin back and angles his head to catch Evan's lips against his own.

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Is there an age limit? Part 2

“For me?” The annoying red-clad giant of a man who was all sunshine and diabetes-inducing puppies bounced around. He played with the communicator Batman handed to him as if it were a shiny new toy.

“I can’t believe I’m in the Justice League!” The Herculean man-child squealed, grinning like an imbecile. “Somebody, kick me. Show me I’m not dreaming!” 

Guy Gardner was too happy to oblige. 

“My pleasure.”

His signature kick - a brutal, no-holds-barred move - would send a seasoned fighter flying across the floor. Guy delivered one of his specialties to Captain Whitebread.

Crack!

“My leg!” 

Agony ripped from his foot, up his leg, as he felt his bones shatter upon impact with that brick wall of a man.

“I broke my leg!” He hopped to the nearest seat, clutching his foot, hoping to earn sympathy points with Ice. 

The cold beauty looked away.

Instead, the Big Red Cheese hovered towards him.

“I’m so sorry.” The overgrown baby - who was made of concrete - had the audacity to offer him a hand. 

“Can I help you?”

“Nah, Guy’s just being Guy,” Hal pulled Justice League’s newest recruit away. “You must see our recreation rooms!”

Superman, one of the Big Three, intercepted them. 

“Wait, Cap,” he dangled a set of keys in front of Captain Whitebread. 

“You get the room beside mine,” Superman grinned as the big blue boy scout wrapped his arm around the cheesy red boy scout. 

He behaved as if Cap was his twin brother. “I’ll show you your private quarters!”

Guy’s jaw dropped as he turned as green as his ring.

While every member of the Justice League had a private room in the Watchtower, a cluster of four rooms were considered prime estate. Three of the four prestigious rooms were taken by the Big Three - Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. 

Captain Whitebread gets the fourth? 

It is as good as telling the hero community that the dolt is one of the Big Four.

Guy knew he deserved that honour far more than that joke of a hero.

 *

“Holy Moley!” Captain Marvel’s gawked at his private quarters. “Is this for me?”

“All yours,” Superman grinned, spreading out his arms. 

His fellow Kryptonian’s childlike wonder was a welcome change from the jaded cynicism, or even worse, the self-important grandeur of some heroes.

“Can this room handle lightning strikes?” Captain Marvel ran his hand over a wall.

“Well,” Superman rock on the back of his heels. 

“We are in space, so there is no lightning out here. But it can withstand intense heat, radiation, corrosive environments and physical stress, so I’d imagine it can handle a regular thunderstorm.”

Marvel frowned, in thought. “Can it handle over a billion volts at more than 30,000 degrees Celsius?”

“I’m not sure if anything can handle that,” Superman replied.

“May not be an issue if….” Captain Marvel’s face lit up with a dazzling grin. 

“Never mind. I know what to do.” He chuckled. 

“Wisdom of Solomon,” he tapped his head.

Cap’s eyes bugged out at the fully stocked mini-fridge and pantry. He picked up a can of beer. “I’m sure you must be a certain age to drink these,” he frowned.

Superman wasn’t a fan of alcohol either. It had no effect on his Kryptonian physiology. He didn’t fancy the taste. 

“I don’t like beer or alcohol either. It might be a Kryptonian thing,” he beamed, more certain than ever that he was no longer the last of his kind. “I had mine swapped for milk,” he grinned. “I can arrange that for you too.”

“That would be cool!” Cap looked delighted. “Can I have chocolate milk?”

Cap behaved like a kid let loose in a toy shop as Superman showed him the room’s features.

“The bed and walls are reinforced, but cannot withstand our strength, if you toss and turn in your sleep,” Superman warned. “Do you sleepwalk?”

“No,” Cap pursed his lips. “I’ll power down before bed so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Power down? Does Marvel have portable red sun lamps? 

That’s a brilliant idea he could adopt.”

For the rest of the morning, Superman had the pleasure of showing his new brother the rest of the Watchtower.

“Superman, this place is awesome!” Cap remarked

“Call me Kal,” Superman replied. 

“Okay Kal. You were saying you have Polar Bears in your Fortress of Solitude. Can I play with them?” Marvel pleaded with large, puppy eyes.

“Sure, Will-em,” Kal replied. 

Cap cringed. “I rather you call me Billy. William sounds so… old.”

“Bill, then?” Kal asked.

“Bill is good,” Billy replied.

Marvel prefers his civilian Earth name. 

He probably was raised on Earth too.

So civilian Earth name it is.

“Then call me Clark.”

Bill preferred flying to using the zeta tubes. He had a point. One can never tire of the magnificent view, flying on your power from the space station to earth.

“You keep your key where everyone can see?” Bill’s eyes widened at the large golden key outside Superman’s ice fortress.

“It’s made of dwarf star material and weighs millions of tons,” Clark smirked. “It’s not like anyone can pick it up and let themselves in.” He fitted the massive key into the keyhole.

“I bet I can,” Bill smirked. 

“Kryptonians can,” Clark replied. “But we’re almost extinct.” He handed the key to Marvel, who returned it to its place where it doubled up as an aircraft navigation marker.

“Holy Moley!” Bill’s jaw dropped lower as they walked into the fortress. “Are those your parents?” He pointed up at the statues Kal had created in memory of his birth parents.

“Yes. Jor-el and Lara Lor-Van,” Clark replied. “I was a baby when they sent me away. I don’t remember anything about them.”

“Oh,” Bill squeezed Clark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.” Clark assured him. “Ma and Pa Kent took me in when I landed on earth as a baby. They raised me as their own son.”

“That’s cool. I don’t have parents. I lost mine when I was five,” Bill’s eyes glistened with tears. 

“I can still remember them, though the memories are getting fuzzy.”He dropped his smile.

“You can always visit me and my family at the farm,” Superman patted his back.

“Farm?” Cap’s eyes widened. “You grew up in a farm?”

“Raised there. My folks live there,” he chuckled as he led Bill through the fortress' many chambers. “Talking about families, there’s a polar bear family I want you to meet.”

He opened a door that led into a natural cave just outside the Fortress of Solitude.

“My neighbours,” Clark gestured at a family of polar bears. 

The father and mother bears nodded at the men and chuffed their greeting.

Bill chuffed back. 

Then he whimpered like a playful bear cub.

Curious cubs approached Cap with their heads up and ears forward.

The biggest baby bear swatted the air in a playful mock attack. 

Captain Marvel pawed back as younger cubs rolled around. 

Their mother walked slowly towards Cap, and sniffed at him. 

The babies followed suit. 

Between the cuffs, whines and whimpers, the bears seemed to be having some sort of conversation with the man.

“Do you understand what they are saying?” Clark walked up to them, getting a growl in response.

“Oh sorry,” Bill replied. “I keep forgetting we aren’t speaking English.”

“Huh?” Clark frowned. Confused.

“Sasha here was telling me about your noisy machines driving their fish away,” Bill added. “She asks you to be a good neighbour and keep the noise down.”

Apparently, the mother bear was Sasha, the father bear was Phil.

“I’m hardly here,” Clark replied.

Bill chuffed at the mother bear, getting a series of growls in return.

“She says, you may not be here, but your machines still make too much noise. These two days, the sounds are more frequent and worse,” Bill explained.

Sasha chuffed some more.

“Then there are the newcomers in shiny suits that came through this week,” translated Bill.

“That’s not possible,” Clark had a nagging feeling something was wrong.

Phil roared. 

Sasha herded the cubs away.

“They are coming again. The bears smell them,” Clark translated for Bill. 

“Sasha is asking you to tell your guests to be more considerate.”

“What guests?” 

A sudden pain stabbed through Clark’s entire body. 

Kryptonite.

He searched for the source, but his super-vision failed him. A wave of dizziness hit him. Hard.

“Are you okay, Clark,” Bill caught him before he hit the ground.

“Kryptonite,” his vision turned blurry as an armoured figure bearing a large chunk of Kryptonite stalked past the bears, towards him.

“I got this.” 

Bill’s voice was the last thing Clark heard before he blacked out.

*

“Batman! Superman’s poisoned!” Captain Marvel strode into the Watchtower carrying a limp, green-faced Superman.

“What happened?” Batman led Marvel to The Infirmary.

“Kryptonite bomb exploded in our faces,” Marvel grimaced. “Shards of Green K pierced his skin. I removed as much as I could but I don’t have X-ray vision, but I think he breathed particles of Kryptonite, so can you check his lungs?”

“Hmmph,” Batman scrutinised Marvel. “Why aren’t you affected?”

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me,” Marvel replied. “We were attacked in the Arctic. Who do I hand the culprits over to?”

“Bring them here for interrogation,” Batman replied. If these guys infiltrated Superman’s fortress, he wanted to find out more. “Local authorities don’t have the facilities or security to store technology that is advanced enough to take down Superman. Bring everything here for safekeeping.”

“Yes, sir!” Marvel did a chipper salute and disappeared in a red blur.

So, Captain Marvel is immune to Kryptonite. He doesn’t have X-ray vision either. The man is clearly not a Kryptonian.

As he applied the ultrasonic vibratory device to Superman’s chest to loosen the kryptonite particles in his lungs, Batman pondered on the new information that Marvel had revealed about himself.  

Marvel may not be a Kryptonian, but he could be a Daxamite. 

These are descendants of Kryptonians who left Krypton to explore space. They have the same powers as Kryptonians but do not have x-ray vision. 

Although they are not affected by Kryptonite, Daxamites have a fatal sensitivity to lead.

Batman set up the portable lung lavage system to wash out Superman’s lungs. 

Then he headed to his private quarters where he kept his contingencies against every member of the Justice League.

He removed the Kryptonite from Marvel’s box and replaced it with lead bullets. 

[whisperinghomes01]

Best Decorative Wall Lights for Your Home 2024 – Order Now

Shop the Latest: Fancy Wall Lights Online in India 2024

Wall lights are more than just functional light sources; they are a key component in shaping the overall ambiance of your home. As one of the most versatile lighting solutions, wall lights bring both aesthetic appeal and practicality to your living spaces. Whispering Homes offers a wide range of decorative wall lights that cater to various design preferences, making it easy for homeowners to find the perfect fixture that complements their décor.

Whether you are looking to create a cozy atmosphere in your bedroom or add an elegant touch to your living room, wall lights from Whispering Homes are designed to enhance any space. From classic designs to modern minimalistic styles, you can easily buy wall lights online in India and transform your interiors with unique and stylish lighting.

Why Are Wall Lights Important for Interior Design?

Wall lights play a crucial role in defining the look and feel of a room. Here’s how they add value to your home décor:

Ambiance and Mood: Wall lights create a warm and inviting ambiance, adding layers of light that enhance the mood of a room.

Task Lighting: These lights are perfect for focused lighting, such as reading or working, providing illumination where needed.

Aesthetic Appeal: With intricate designs and finishes, wall lights serve as stylish decorative elements, making any space visually appealing.

At Whispering Homes, you can buy wall lights that not only meet your lighting needs but also reflect your personal style, whether it’s sleek modern aesthetics or timeless elegance.

Tips for Choosing the Right Wall Lights

Selecting the perfect wall lights requires considering key factors such as lighting purpose, style, and placement. Here’s a guide to help you make an informed decision:

Purpose of Lighting: Decide whether you need ambient lighting for a soft, overall glow or task lighting for specific areas like reading nooks or workspaces.

Style and Design: Consider the style of your room. Whispering Homes offers everything from minimalist modern wall lights to intricate, luxurious designs that make a statement.

Size and Placement: Measure your wall space before purchasing. The right size ensures that the fixture fits well without overwhelming the room. Also, ensure proper height placement for optimal lighting effect.

Popular Types of Wall Lights

Wall lights come in various designs to suit different needs and preferences. Here are some popular options available at Whispering Homes:

Lantern Wall Lights: Perfect for adding rustic charm, these lights come with glass panels that exude a vintage appeal.

Flush-Mount Wall Lights: Ideal for modern interiors, these lights sit close to the wall, offering a sleek, unobtrusive look.

Swing Arm Wall Lights: Highly functional, these lights feature adjustable arms that allow you to direct the light as needed.

Up and Down Lights: Also known as wall sconces, these lights provide both upward and downward illumination, creating a dramatic effect.

Picture Lights: Designed to highlight artwork or photos, these lights are mounted above or beside the art to enhance its visual impact.

Each type offers unique features, making it easy to choose the right one based on your décor and functional needs.

Explore Wall Lights in Different Materials

Wall lights are available in a variety of materials, allowing you to find the perfect match for your home:

Metal Wall Lights: Durable and sleek, available in finishes like chrome and brushed nickel, ideal for contemporary spaces.

Fabric Wall Lights: Add a touch of elegance with fabric shades that diffuse light, perfect for creating a cozy atmosphere.

Glass Wall Lights: From clear to frosted glass, these lights add sophistication to any room.

Brass Wall Lights: Timeless and sturdy, brass fixtures bring warmth and character to classic interiors.

Benefits of Buying Wall Lights Online in India

Shopping for wall lights online offers several advantages:

Variety: At Whispering Homes, you’ll find a wide selection of styles and designs to suit your décor.

Convenience: Browse and purchase from the comfort of your home, with detailed product descriptions to guide your choice.

Competitive Pricing: Enjoy great deals and offers when you buy wall lights online, ensuring you get value for your money.

FAQs about Wall Lights

What are wall lights? Wall lights are lighting fixtures mounted on walls, providing both illumination and enhancing the décor of a space.

Can I find different styles of wall lights at Whispering Homes? Yes, Whispering Homes offers a variety of styles, including lantern lights, flush-mount lights, and more.

Are these wall lights suitable for both indoor and outdoor use? Whispering Homes primarily offers indoor wall lights, but some models are designed for outdoor use. Check product details for specifics.

Are the materials of Whispering Homes wall lights durable? Absolutely. Whispering Homes ensures high-quality materials for long-lasting durability and aesthetic appeal.

By selecting wall lights from Whispering Homes, you can easily elevate the look of your space while also ensuring practical, focused lighting. With styles that range from modern to traditional, these lights will enhance the beauty of your home in 2024 and beyond. Order now and bring home the best in decorative lighting!

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly. 

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. ���i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals. 

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

[rayveneyed]

cw; suggestive / softcore smut, alcohol consumption (possibly dubcon), inappropriate workplace relationships, cisfem!reader

nanami kento is too old for fucking.

he tells you this at 1 am — in not quite as many words — a few too many somaeks in, lethargic and slow from the length of the workday. there’s enough alcohol in his system to have him silk-loose and soft, cursing more freely and allowing vulgarity (or what he considers vulgarity) to grace his ever-so-polite tongue.

you’ve never heard him like this before; you’ve never heard your straight laced coworker utter anything more than a family-friendly expletive (drat being a recurring character — old-fashioned, but endearing). but his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his hair is mussed, and the blush of intoxication is rising to his sharp cheekbones — and yes, he curses. it almost sounds elegant when he does it. rolling over his tongue in his poorly-lit living room, where he’d only bothered to turn one lamp on; gathering with his voice like balls of cotton wool deep in his chest.

you yourself have had one too many drinks — that is why you find warmth pooling in your stomach at the sound of his confession, at the sight of his face illuminated in honey-soft light. after all, you’d never let the barrier of strained, charged professionalism drop otherwise. you’d never accept kento’s sudden invite for a nightcap after a night already filled with drinking, surrounded by tipsy coworkers at a local izakaya; you’d never let him help you slip your heels off, deft fingers unbuckling the strap from your ankle and lingering just long enough for you to notice. you’d surely never sit so close to him on his fancy 1.5 million yen couch — and you’d never, ever entertain the comment he’d made, one that he never intended for you to hear in the first place.

“what was that?” you say, coy, as if the comment hadn’t twisted something horrid in your gut. (as if you weren’t imagining him flushed from top to bottom, panting against your neck. it’s the alcohol, you’re sure of it.) “you’re too old for all that crazy stuff? like what?”

his adam’s apple bobs. he’s sitting slumped low next to you, his head hanging backwards against the back of the couch and his gaze somewhere on the high ceilings above your head, like he can’t face you. pretty. handsome. “sorry. i was just thinking out loud.”

“i know.” you take a sip of your own somaek. “but we’re both adults here, right? i mean, i agree. i’m not as flexible as i was at 20.”

his laugh is more of a surprised huff — like he’s just as surprised as you are that your conversation has steered into such uncharted territory. perhaps he’s surprised that he’s even responding to it — but he does, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. his thigh presses against yours through those infernal khaki slacks. “mm. me neither.”

you shoot him a cheeky grin. “you were getting folded like a pretzel, i presume?”

another laugh, tinged with incredulity this time. “mm. something like that.”

you both sit in silence for a moment. his apartment really is lovely — the kind of apartment you only get when you’re as diligent as nanami, putting aside money for years and steadily working his way up the hierarchal corporate ladder. high ceilings and a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows opposite his couch; a kitchen with a granite island; fancy furniture straight from an interior designer’s wet dream. it’s all neutral greys and browns, cozy and elegant and refined, and suddenly you wonder what his bedroom looks like. you take another sip of your drink.

“getting older’s not all that bad,” you say, almost offhandedly, speaking more to the tokyo skyline than your drinking companion. (you bet he has a double-king with fancy 500-count cotton bedsheets. probably some trinkets. man stuff like shavers and cuff links and aftershave.) “i like it slow anyways.”

a strange, choked sound leaves your drinking partner, and your eyes shoot over to him. you’re suddenly mortified at your careless blabbering — but drunk enough for your embarrassment to be eclipsed by a prideful ignorance. “huh? nanami-san, are you okay?”

he stares up at the ceiling once more. his throat bobs again. a slight blush has dusted the tops of his ears — but before you can linger in it, his eyes suddenly flicker to meet yours. you’re almost taken aback by it — the intensity with which his brown eyes suddenly bore into you, the sullenness and modesty from before pushed aside for something newer. something rawer. “…forgive me for my forwardness—”

“you’re forgiven.”

“—but, i…”

you swallow. he still hasn’t looked away. your breathing has stilted, stagnant and pressing, in your lungs. you fight the urge to press against the point where his thigh meets your own, already on the verge of squirming under his heady stare. “but…?”

straight-laced nanami kento breathes deeply, his chest moving with the force of it, and as his breath shudders out of him, he bites out: “i really want you, right now.”

your heartbeat rushes in your ears.

“but we’re coworkers,” kento continues, like he’s been sitting on it for a while — like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. his hand — the one not clutching his glass, the one laying on top of his thigh, flexes. “it’s unprofessional — completely inappropriate. i should be written up for simply confessing this to you.”

“but we—” you swallow around a dry throat — all moisture in your body seemingly gathering between your legs, hot and thrumming and nowhere to go— “we’re not working right now.”

a beat of silence.

kento finally looks away from you, and you can breathe again. you grapple with the sudden influx of air in your lungs, the anxiety of misstepping broiling in the pit of your stomach. while you internally struggle with yourself, nanami sets his somaek on the coffee table, before slumping back again.

“i suppose we’re not.”

unsurprisingly, kento does not make the first move. he just sits there, one arm behind his head and the other laying limp at his side, his chin tilted towards the sky and his eyes shut as if to sleep. it’s not in a way that might be construed as arrogance — this isn’t your high school boyfriend sitting back and waiting for you to pull down his pants — it’s pure and utter indulgence. climb over him if you want. kiss him when you want. cross the imaginary line drawn in the sand when it suits you — regardless, he won’t ever touch unless you explicitly make it clear that you want him to. desire curdles in your stomach, almost painful, and it's all you can do to scrabble onto your knees beside him.

before your anxiety takes control of your faculties — before you allow your cowardice to seize your limbs — you swing a knee to the other side of his hips. you're straddling him, close enough that you're sure you're sharing the same air, and — fuck, he's much bigger than you'd anticipated. he doesn't have the wiry, lean stature of the average salaryman — somehow, between sleeping overnight in the office and drinking at izakayas almost nightly, kento's frame is sturdy and large, muscular. like he works out often. you don't know how he does it with the long hours he puts in, but your thighs almost ache with the stretch of his hips between them — and pressed right against you, right where you're sensitive and aching and perhaps a little too needy, is his clothed cock. the slacks do little to camouflage the shape or hardness of it — in fact, you swear you feel it twitch when you seat yourself against it.

kento's eyes flutter open. his cheekbones are slowly reddening, his glasses hooked low on his nose bridge. his arms twitch where they lay, like he was about to move to hold you and thought better of it. you wish he didn't think better of it. "hi."

you give a little smile, hopefully looking less like you're brimming with excitable energy than you actually are. his lips really are quite close to yours. if you just leaned forward... "hi."

they're not chapped, his lips, but not shining with lip balm. they're soft looking and slightly pink, naturally down-turned in a way that makes him seem grumpy most of the time. but they're quirked up in a little smile, now, and all you can think about is how they might feel against yours. your lip gloss has long since rubbed off, between drinking and eating and drinking again, but would the remnants of glitter smear against his lips? would he come away tasting cherries?

kento clears his throat.

"i have to be honest with you," he says. he adjusts his glasses smartly, the way he does at the office, the way that has all the your female coworkers swooning. "i'm… passed the age of doing things no strings attached — that is to say, if—”

heart suddenly swooping in your chest — delighted at being indulged, of having your affections returned — and brain whizzing along like a child who's had too much sugar, you connect your lips with little fanfare. you're perhaps too enthusiastic — prodding his mouth with your tongue as soon as he'll let you, leaning forward until your chests press together and you can almost feel his heart beating through his skin. his lips are soft, after all. soft but weathered, moving so pleasantly against yours — and then his hands squeeze at the plushness of your hips, his teeth take your bottom lip between them, and—

you're panting when you pull away. panting and flushed and hot all over, barely an inch between you for fear of distance. you’re hot where you’re connected, so filled with nervous, excitable energy you think you might wither; nanami’s grasp on you, steel-tight and warm, does little to help. it’s all you can do to give yourself a second to recuperate, chest heaving — and nanami seems just as bad off. the usually well-kept salaryman looks a mess underneath you, with his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, and his breathing uneven — even then, though, his eyes are far too intense for you to calm any.

“to be honest,” you say, "i’m — i’m a little too old for that, too, kento."

another small smile. the gap between you is filled once more. you both call in sick that morning.

[gingernut1314]

Turkey and Cheese ch. 2

Summary: On the run from enforcers, you collide straight into someone in your rush. Someone whose seafoam eyes take your breath away and all you want to do is spend a little bit more time with him.

Content: female reader x Silco, pre-season 1 arcane, first meeting, gendered terms, reader has water manipulation powers, young Silco, young reader, you share a stolen sandwich with Silco, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna)

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: The characters will age up, but the plan I have set up is reader meets Silco and the others when they are all still teens so there is only going to be like...one or two more chapters as teens and then we're getting aged up. I hope you all enjoy!!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

You got too much joy picking on the Enforcers that hang around the bridge that separated the shining city of Piltover and the not-so-bright Undercity. You stole their lunches and their coin, called them every name under the sun, and threw rocks at them from dark corners. 

It pissed them the fuck off making it prime entertainment for you.

Your guardian, Janna, disapproved of your shenanigans. The lectures were too long whenever you were caught. Lectures about reasonability and grace and blah, blah, blah . 

So, to avoid such mind-numbing lectures, you waited until Janna disappeared for days on end to let chaos ensue.

And this fog-heavy day was one of those days.

Your stomach growled, clenching and twisting in hunger as you knelt on top of one of the run-down tenement houses near the bridge. You watched four Enforcers walk out of the broader toll house, switching posts with the other four Enforcers standing before the bridge. 

You had been watching them for most of the night, counting and double counting how many Enforcers were on duty. You counted nine in total, which was one less than there had been last time you’d done this. 

Someone must be sick or had been fired or, maybe, they were dead. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter one bit to you. All you cared about now was earning a few coins and getting a homemade meal from someone's spouse for a late dinner.

You rushed into action after one last scan of the area, before rushing across the roofs. When you came to the end of this line of tenements, you hopped down onto the fire escape below, a small grunt escaping your lips before starting down the rusting stairs. 

Once on the ground, you yanked your hood up and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, trying to keep a low profile as you walked the short distance across the recently redone cobblestoned road. You disappeared into the large shadows the street lamps cast, walking along the smooth wall of the tollhouse.

“Beth just got accepted into that fancy college she wanted.” A gruff voice filtered out from a small, open window. 

“Well, shit--” Was the last of that conversation you heard as you climbed up a ladder around the back of the building. 

You stayed crouched low as you made way to the vent in the center of the roof. You had used this vent for years, but, as you quietly pulled the metal covering off and lowered yourself into the vent system, found it might be one of your last times. 

You were getting too big to fit in the vent.

This was a child's game, as unfortunate as it was to admit, and at the ripe age of fourteen, you were no child anymore. 

“We’ve been saving up--” And blah, blah, blaaahhhh . 

Enforcers rarely had anything exciting to talk about. It was always about someone's family or about whatever game they had gone to watch. It had nearly sent you into tears as you crawled through the vents. 

Where was the excitement? The danger? 

Didn’t Encforcer beat Undercityians up for fun? 

You finally made it to the vent in the locker room area. It was bland and hardly fit hardly enough lockers for every enforcer stationed here, but to you, it was a gold mine. 

You opened the vent, placing it slowly on the other side of the vent shaft, and hopped into the room, hitting the ground on near-silent feet and a held-in grunt. You waited a few seconds to see if anyone had heard you before starting on opening each locker and taking as many coin potches as you could find. The only good thing the last locker had to offer was a piece of gum instantly shoved into your mouth. 

Just as you opened the fridge and grabbed someone's paper bag lunch, the door opened. 

Your blood went cold. You've been caught one too many times over the years, but each time it happened it never helped ease your nerves. 

A younger-looking Enforcer saw you instantly, his eyes narrowing in something like confusion. You didn’t recognize this Enforcer from past interactions, so you assumed he was new. 

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” 

“No one.” You pulled on the most innocent look you could muster, hiding the lunch behind your back. “I think I might have taken a wrong turn.” 

“A wrong--” The Enforcer then saw the open and ransacked lockers. It clicked then, what had happened here right under his nose. 

Before the Enforcer had time to speak, you pushed past him into the small hallway. 

“Hey!” He shouted after you but you were already booking it into the office area where six enforcers sat. They noticed you almost instantly, rising from their seats in the blink of an eye. One tried to grab you, but you twisted out of his way and dodged another on-coming man. 

The front door open with a bang and all but threw yourself into the street, your gum falling from your mouth in the process. 

“Grab her!” One of the enforcers shouted, singling the four others standing before the bridge. Those four were too far away to do any grabbing, so you didn’t feel the need to be worried about them. 

You ran downwards, toward the looming city you called home. As you ran closer and closer, the air seemed to get thicker-- dirtier than that of the air by the bridge. This wasn’t anything new to you, your throat and lungs taking less than a second to adjust to the polluted air. 

The continuous shouting from behind let you know that the Enforcers were still hot on your tail. You would either lose them eventually in this maze of run-down buildings and streets or they would give up, finding they didn’t want to venture as far into the city as you were going to take them. 

Time would only tell which it would be, so you pushed yourself harder. 

You made the first sharp turn into a familiar alleyway, an enforcer that had been getting too close to you tripping and falling into a couple of barrels full of fish. You gave a sharp laugh, looking over your shoulder to watch that scene unfold in your utter glee.

And just as you made to turn back around, you collided into something solid and bony.

You and the person you’d just hit at full speed went tumbling to the ground, each giving own round of curses. 

A pair of blue-green eyes halted your escape. A pair of eyes that took your breath away…well, maybe it had been from the impact but your breath was differently stolen and these eyes--eyes like seafoam weren’t helping.

The blue-green eyes were attached to a thin, sharp face covered in skin that looked like it hardly got out in the sun. 

Though everyone down here always had that “hardly seen the sun” look about them. 

This guy was very attractive. Too attractive some might say. 

So attractive it almost had you forgetting about the four enforcers running after you. 

 The blue-green eyes narrowed up at you, completely pissed off. 

“Get the hell off--” 

 “She’s in there!” The enforcer that had just fallen into fish guts shouted to his coworkers. The boy’s eyes widened and he looked past you to find what you already knew was coming into the alley. 

“Do you have a canteen?” The boy snapped back to you, anger written clear on his face. 

“What? No--” You gave him an eye roll. 

Who didn't carry a water canteen with them? 

Well…you didn’t, but that was beside the point. 

“A flask?” You tried again.

“You ran into me and brought enforcers with you and you're asking me if I have a--” He gave a startled sort of sound as you began patting him down. You’d grown tired of his rambling. You found a flask in his jacket in an inner pocket and gave a little sound of triumph. 

“Thank you!” You sweetly spoke, pushing yourself off the guy who looked so bewildered by you it was cute . You turned your attention back onto the four enforcers blocking the exit. 

“Thought you could get away with it this time, girl .” One of them hissed through his mask. You recognized this man to be Rufus, an Enforcer that had been stationed on the bridge the longest. 

“But whatever did I do, sir? ” He gave a growl, taking a step forward that was meant to be threatening. 

“Give it back and we’ll forget this ever happened.” You knew that was a lie. As soon as you got close enough, they’d grab you and throw you in jail. 

“Promise?” Rufus was growing impatient, you could see it in his brown, tired eyes.

“ Promise .” He grit out. This made you smile. 

“Alright, mister.” You pulled the flask out from behind your back then. “Catch!” And the flask was tossed Rufus’s way. 

You let your magic flow through your veins and felt for the water in the alcohol. 

Rufus caught the flask with ease. He looked from it to you. 

“What is--” With great effort, you made the little bit of water in the alcohol explode. The flask broke into pieces, shooting up into his eyes. He gave a scream and that was your queue to leave. 

You snapped around, finding the boy standing there, shock on his face. He had a lean build and was very, very tall. It just added to his overall attractiveness. 

Focus!  

“Time to go!” You swiped the fallen lunch off the ground and grabbed for the boy in one go, pulling him further down the alley.

It only took the boy a moment to regain his right mind and in a split second, he was the one pulling you along.

You followed the boy, climbing up on top of the dumper closest to the broken fire escape. You let go of his arm so he could launch himself at the escape, slamming into the railing with a bang. Once he was over the rusting railing, you were quick to jump and slam into the escape.

The boy grabbed your wrist once your two feet were safely on the other side of the railing before continuing to drag you up stair after stair until you made it to the roof, which someone had been trying to grow some kind of plants on. Just with a quick glance at the spotting plant, you could tell it wasn’t going very well. 

Shouting from the enforcers below had you wiggling out of the boy's grip and looking over the edge, finding one had climbed up onto the dumpster while the others looked defeated. 

“If it's any consolation, you’ll be feeding a poor underling for a day or so.” You shouted down to them, waving the bag mockingly.

“Don’t think this is over, girl!” Rufus spat. You only gave him a cheeky smile. 

“Tell your wife she makes the best turkey and cheese sandwiches. I’ve been looking forward to it all month.” Rufus gave a growl before storming out of the alley. Slowly, the other enforcers followed after him, throwing you dirty looks as they left.  

The boy grabbed you then, whipping you around to face him. 

You weren’t always the best at figuring out how people were feeling, mainly thanks to being raised by a seemingly emotionless wind spirit, but you could tell in a moment this guy was angry. 

“If this is about your flask, I’m--” The guy was quick to not let you finish. 

“What the hell were you thinking, bringing enforcers to the Lanes?” He snapped. You merely gave him a very slow blink.

“I’m fully prepared to buy you a new one.” You finished, earning a frustrated growl from the guy. 

You liked what he had going on--this uptight, angry, authoritative thing. You liked it so much it made you want to tease him to no end. 

“Why I’m trying to get a child to see reason--” 

“Whoa there.” You held a hand up, further cutting him off. “You’re like--what, a year older than me?” He narrowed his seafoam blue eyes at you once more.

“You can’t be older than twelve.” 

“Nope! Fourteen.” The guy rolled his eyes.

“A child.” 

“Alright, mister-high-and-mighty. How old are you then?” 

“It hardly matters.” Your mouth fell open in disbelief, but before you could nag him anymore, he continued. “You realize they will be back.” You pulled out of the guy's grip again and began walking across the roof. 

To your surprise, the boy followed. 

“The reason I pick on those buffoons at the bridge is because I know their threats are empty.” You opened the brown paper bag and rummaged around until you found a foil-wrapped sandwich your stomach had been growling to get a bite out of. “Especially Rufus.” You took one of the halves out and extended it to the boy. “Want some? It’s the good stuff.” He looked it over for a moment, eyes still narrowed. 

You could tell he didn’t want to take it from you, not when he still looked so annoyed at you…so you gave it a little wiggle that pulled a sigh from his mouth. 

“Thank you.” He took it from you, his eyes finally softening. His fingers brushed the tiniest bit against yours, but it was enough to send sparks running through your every last nerve. 

You watched the boy as he took a bite from the sandwich. Watched as his eyes widened the slightest bit. It was so slight most wouldn’t have noticed, but you had been watching him too intently. 

“Right? It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” You gave him a bright smile. One you rarely ever gave--one that was genuine --before chomping down into your own half.

You hopped up on the edge of the roof, which overlooked the whole of the Lanes. From up here, you could spot the tops of the highest buildings and the smoke billowing up from the mines beneath the city. Smoke that danced and twirled upward, illuminating the lights shining from across the city. In the day, the smoke would cast the sky in murky shades of gray, depending on how bright the sun was shining. 

It was quite beautiful, despite its run-down and polluted nature. 

It was still your home. 

“I didn’t mean to bring the enforcers here…but maybe I gave someone the chance to get across that golden bridge--for them to seek their fortune or a fresh start.” You looked back to the boy who had jumped up onto the edge with you. He turned his gaze towards you, scanning you over with seemingly all-seeing eyes. Eyes that made your skin seem to burn.

“Is that what you want?” The question shocked you.

In The Lanes, most didn’t get too close to one another. Not unless they had to. It was a very lonely world, but you endured.

“No,” You scoffingly said. You wouldn’t even last a day over there. You were too wild, too much a part of the Undercity. You gave the boy a look over of your own, though much less all-seeing as his had been. 

“What about you?” You cautiously asked. Though you didn’t at all mind sharing things about yourself, you didn’t know how this guy was. All you knew is you enjoyed his company….and you didn’t want to be alone all over again quite yet. 

“No,” He replayed, looking back over the city. “There’s too much potential here.” 

You liked that. You liked that a lot . 

You took another big bite from your sandwich, letting the night air fill the quiet between you two. 

You swallowed, glancing back over him as you worked up the courage to speak again. 

And once that small bit of courage was wrestled up, you told him your name.

The boy turned his eyes back on you, his longish brown hair blowing slightly in the breeze. He seemed to hesitate too for a moment.

“Silco.” He spoke before finishing off his half of the sandwich. 

You liked his name. You liked it almost as much as you liked his face. 

“How did you manage to make my flask to explode?” You smirked, turning away from the boy, Silco , once more. 

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” Silco gave a laugh. It was a tiny huffing one, but a laugh nonetheless. 

You liked his laugh. You liked more than his name and face.

Previous | Next