#silver foil wallpaper

[blieve-bactive-bhealthy]

Powder Room - Bathroom Example of a mid-sized trendy white tile, black and white tile and glass tile powder room design with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, blue cabinets and marble countertops

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 2

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter 2: ‘Put It On Me’

Joel Miller: cold, aloof, and famously uncharitable. 

Not a man you could ask for a favour. Especially not to join a stranger in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly journey across the country.  

But Joel, despite his reputation, was not a god, he was only a man and that meant he could be bribed or blackmailed, perhaps. 

Drugs or alcohol were not an option. Despite being the most sought after product in the Qz, Joel wouldn’t be interested. He was the one who sold them. 

A dull ache had begun to spread across the back of Juliet’s skull. She dropped her head onto the table and felt the sweat coating her skin stick to the glossy paper of the map. 

The spiral turning in her mind started to pick up speed again, her darkest thoughts now gripping her lungs. Juliet forced herself to take a deep breath, and another, and another. Her father knew where she was now, she had to get out of her apartment and out of the QZ, fast. 

Juliet thought back to every interaction she could remember having with Joel, every time their eyes met or every time he looked away too quickly. Joel was impenetrable, always holding his thoughts close to his chest. 

Juliet sat up quick, her hand instantly reaching to her forehead to calm the wave of dizziness that washed over her. 

She remembered something: 

Abe, a kind but pliant man, worked the radio for the QZ and held ‘office hours’ on weekdays. Anyone in Boston who wanted to contact another QZ waited in a large queue in the dusty hallway outside Abe’s apartment. 

Not Joel, though. 

Juliet was walking through the building a few days ago when she shuffled past the line of bored residents. With no intention of stopping, she kept her head down and avoided eye-contact, as always. Her pace slowed, however, when she heard a familiar name. Juliet turned her head and noticed two men complaining, not very discreetly, about Joel: 

“This isn’t the first time he’s done this,” grumbled a tall man who leaned against the peeling wallpaper. 

His friend grunted and moved closer, “he just walks past, skipping the whole line like we ain’t even here” he replied, rolling his eyes. 

The tall one snorted, “As if he’s the only bastard in Boston who needs to use the radio.”

Juliet paused, now incredibly interested in the conversation of the two whining men. Joel was sending messages out of the QZ? To who?

Juliet continued to walk past the queue and rounded the corner until she could safely tuck into a dark corner and attempt to catch a glimpse inside Abe’s apartment/office. 

There he was. Joel Miller, sliding a piece of crumpled tin foil across Abe’s desk.

It didn’t take a genius to know what was inside. 

Joel sat forward, his elbows now resting on the dark oak as he watched Abe open the silver package. She was only able to catch a glimpse of his profile but Juliet could still make out the hard clench of Joel’s jaw, locked in place, as he waited for Abe to take a puff. 

They started to talk and Juliet inched forward, careful to remain in the shadow of the corner, but she was too far away to hear any part of the conversation. It was clear it wasn’t going well - for Joel, at least. 

Seconds later, Joel abruptly rose from his chair, the screech of metal rang out along the hallway, and he stalked out of the apartment without looking back. Terrified she might be caught snooping, Juliet was gone before he reached the doorway. 

Juliet shook her head, she had forgotten all about that strange observation, having been immediately caught up in another Firefly ambush when she left the building. 

Now though, the memory flushed her body with adrenaline. She sat up straight, the ache in her head had begun to recede. A plan started to take form in her mind, the different puzzle pieces clicking together. There was someone important to Joel outside of the QZ. If she found out who that was, she could use that information to her advantage.

That meant she had to pay a visit to Abe. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t share intel for free. 

Juliet turned to the window on her right, the glass was clouded, aged with the building. Still, Juliet could make out the dark blue sky as night rapidly descended on Boston. Shock had dulled the passage of time, the minutes silently passing around her. 

Juliet walked to her cupboard, her steps quick as she grabbed her hidden backpack filled with supplies ready to be used at a moment’s notice. With one last mournful look at her apartment, Juliet made her way across the hall to Kenny’s door, the neighbour who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

He broke into her apartment on more than one occasion. It was only fair she repaid the favour. 

Juliet pulled a hair pin from the inside pocket of her jacket and started to work on Kenny's rusted lock. Her neighbour was notorious for arriving back home seconds before curfew, always narrowly missing the enforcers. So Juliet had some time, less than an hour to be exact. 

Seconds later, Juliet heard the familiar metallic pop and she was in. Similar to most in the QZ, Abe was very receptive to bribes. She had witnessed it first hand when Joel expertly slid that tinfoil in his direction and Juliet watched a lazy grin glide over Abe’s face. 

Good thing Juliet knew someone else Joel sold to and good thing that person was stupid enough to leave his supply on his dining table where anyone with a hair pin could find it. The small, chalky white tablets were now safely tucked in her jacket pocket. 

Juliet made her way out of the apartment, cringing as the old linoleum creaked under her cautious steps. She took the time to lock the door behind her before tiptoeing down the stairs and past Margaret’s apartment. Juliet prayed no shadows under Margaret’s door announced her departure from the building. 

Outside, the streets were quiet, most residents of the QZ probably now tucked away in their apartments. A peaceful night of relative safety was taken from Juliet the second she picked up that letter. 

She was on borrowed time anyways, Juliet always knew her father would find her eventually. 

Tendrils of doubt and fear threatened to creep back into her mind and destroy the numbness which currently clouded her thoughts. As she moved through the murky streets, Juliet wasn’t just racing against time.

When she arrived at Abe’s building, Juliet sacrificed a precious moment to rest her back against the red brick wall and let her eyes fall closed. Juliet was not a naturally hostile person, she always prioritised indifference in her daily interactions. But she was a survivor, which meant that she would do anything, be anything to ensure her safety and the survival of the people she loved. Meaning, for Ethan, she would wear a mask of hostility. 

She entered the building and hugged shadows to Abe’s apartment. Juliet didn’t wait for an invitation to enter before she stalked through the unlocked door. 

“Abe, I need a word,” Juliet declared, she kept her voice clipped and steady.

Abe stood by the radio and turned quickly at the sound of Juliet’s entrance. A puzzled expression took over his face, his mouth turned downwards. 

“Juliet? What are you doing here? It’s almost curfew,” he said, his voice cushioned with a cautious tone. 

When Juliet just stared back, Abe released a heavy sigh and walked over to his desk. He pushed back his chair and dropped himself into the padded leather. 

“Take a seat,” Abe huffed as he pointed across his desk at the vacant chair.

Juliet approached at a leisurely pace as she took the seat opposite him. She placed her backpack on the floor, leaned forward in her chair and placed her elbows on the table. Then she straightened her back, attempting to imitate the air of intimidation she had witnessed from Joel. 

“I’ll keep this short,” Juliet asserted. “I need information about Joel Miller.”

Abe’s furrowed brow deepened, confusion now etched in the fine lines of his face.

“Joel?” He asked, before sighing.“I don’t deal in information, Juliet. I just listen to the radio,” Abe replied, dismissal clear in his tone, as he shifted in his chair, moving to stand.

“Stop,” Juliet commanded. She raised her left hand and willed it to stay steady as she reached her right hand into her pocket, pulling out the pills. Just like Joel, Juliet locked eyes with Abe as she slid the contraband.

A smug smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over chest. 

“Like I said,” Juliet maintained, stretching out the words, giving Abe time to make the right decision. “I need information on Joel Miller.”

Abe stared back at her and for a moment, one terrifying moment, Juliet thought he would throw the pills back at her. But no, Abe’s irritated expression eventually transformed into a sly smile to match her own. 

“Okay. What do you want to know?” he asked, already reaching for the drugs. 

Relief was sudden and intense, it settled deep in her stomach and relaxed her tight muscles. Juliet was careful to not let it show on her face. 

“I know he has someone on the outside he’s contacting,” she paused.“I want to know who.”

Abe whistled low then tossed back one of the pills with a swig of water.

“Well, that’s a whole can of worms,” he replied. 

Juliet raised her eyebrows and made a vague gesture with her hand - go on. 

“He’s got a brother,” Abe began, swallowing rough. 

Once again, Juliet willed her features to remain neutral, to show no sign of the shock now coursing through her body. A brother? 

“He stopped responding to Joel’s messages about three weeks ago,” Abe continued.“Not like him, he usually replies within a couple days. Got Joel all worried.” 

It was Juliet’s turn to be confused. Joel, worried? Juliet had yet to see a glimmer of emotion on the man’s face. He was always so stoic, always so detached. It was a surprise to hear there was someone he cared about, someone he worried about. 

Unaware of the turmoil that raged behind Juliet’s steady features, Abe continued to speak as he rambled something about Joel’s accusation of his incompetence. Juliet collected this new information about Joel and held it close as though it was the key to getting to Ethan. It might well be. 

“I told Joel not to go after him, that it might just be a fault in the signal. But of course he wouldn’t listen,” Abe muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Juliet perked up, tuning back into the conversation… Joel needed out of the QZ.

“Where does his brother live?” coaxed Juliet, attempting to exude only vague curiosity. 

“Wyoming,” Abe replied, shaking his head. “He can’t be serious if he thinks he can travel that far alone…” he trailed off, resting his hands on the desk in front of him.

Wyoming… Juliet’s fledgling plan became a concrete shape, igniting a flicker of hope within her. Her old community, her father’s community, was in Iowa. After years of studying old maps, Juliet was almost sure that it was about halfway between Boston and Wyoming. 

This could work.  

“Is he planning on going alone?” Juliet asked, eagerness seeping into her tone. 

Abe’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, he’s been dealing for a car battery, no luck though. He can’t wait around much longer,” he replied. 

Juliet nodded as she placed her sweaty palms on the dark wood of the desk and pushed herself out of her chair, grabbing her backpack.

Abe leaned back, rolling a pill between his fingers.

“Juliet… Joel’s a capable guy but there are worse things than infected out there. I hear everything on the radio. There are raiders, there are slavers…” he trailed off again. 

Juliet knew this all too well. 

“I appreciate the concern, Abe, but that’s not what I paid you for,” cautioned Juliet. “Keep this quiet,” she warned, turning towards the door and out of the building.

She didn’t look back. 

Outside, curfew was now in place so Juliet pulled her hood up and moved silently through the dark streets. The pressure in her chest was slowly building through her entire conversation with Abe. Now, it threatened to burst. Juliet stopped on a corner and tucked herself into an alleyway. The rain had started, it splashed off the pavement and dampened her jeans. Juliet’s skin was buzzing, electrified by the string of new information about Joel. 

For years, Joel was a mystery. Juliet had learned more about Joel in that five minute conversation with Abe than she had in the three years they worked alongside each other, and now she had to use her newfound knowledge against him. 

Juliet had no other choice. She would use Joel’s desperation to sedate her own. 

Juliet looked up towards the night sky, letting the rain glide over her skin. She took a long breath, licked the water from her lips and moved out of the alley. Juliet danced along the sides of buildings as she headed towards Joel’s apartment.

She had watched him head home a few times after their shifts, his apartment in the same direction as her own. This time, though, it appeared before her so suddenly that she had to force herself to stop, to calm her racing heartbeat as she made her way to the front door. 

Shivering, Juliet gripped the door handle into the building, turning it open as her heart continued to pump more adrenaline straight into her gut.

Juliet stalked up to Joel’s apartment, releasing a trembling breath from her damp lips. This was all happening too fast, the puzzle pieces forming her plan had clicked together so quickly. All she could focus on was the bigger picture. But what about the smaller details? What would she say to Joel? Would he even recognise her? Should she knock the door and risk his neighbours hearing her? 

Juliet didn’t have to agonise over those thoughts for long. Without warning, the rapid sound of multiple locks consecutively turning reverberated through the dark hallway, before the door swung open. 

Joel Miller stood before her, one hand on the handle, the other on the chipped wood of the entryway. Juliet released a strangled gasp, her eyes widened at the sight of his permanent scowl and furrowed brow. 

“Juliet?”

[witchkillr]

* interaction guide. or: how to insert a most heinous and ill-mannered witch into your story of choice in three(?) easy steps.

agatha may be a selfish character, but narratively, she can be incredibly generous. below are several possible starting points to utilise if you're stuck.

do you write a hero? well, here you go: a shiny new narrative foil. look up morally gray in the dictionary and you'll get a picture of agatha, ready and willing to challenge any particularly rigid notions of good and evil. (also, she's here to shred the wallpaper. it's tacky. fix your shit, hero.)

if your muse is someone who seeks to further their understanding of witchcraft, or whatever the equivalent practice is in their world, agatha has been doing it for centuries and is perhaps the single most knowledgeable primary source alive. pick her brain!

specifically, if your muse is someone who would be interested in acquiring the book of the damned, agatha's been its keeper since [redacted] and will not be giving it up without a fight. >:)

is your muse involved in any way consistently with death? (entity or concept, it doesn't matter, they are functionally the same) voila: her ex-wife. she cannot get death to make an exception for you, but she sure can tell you exactly where to hit her mortal form to make it hurt the worst. because, y'know, she's spiteful and vindictive.

speaking of death, do you want to give your muse a close call? maybe they need some sense knocked into them. agatha can totally bring them down a peg.

alternatively, if you write a naive little angel, here's the unfortunate realisation that not everyone in this world is good to good people on a silver platter. disillusionment is one of agatha's several specialties!

[sonofshermy]

Ultra Vivid Scene 'Self-Titled' LP (4AD, 1988)

Yep, I originally bought this in '88 on tape and this is a scan of my copy with the inlay spread wide (front and back). I've been playing this album for the last 36 years, I have other records, but this is one of those LPs I just can't quit for long.

Living adjacent to the The Velvets murk, this is for whip dancing in your teenage bedroom, with the silver foil wallpaper and for nodding off in your own saliva. Mucky flash + dirty glamour, all sleepy-eyed with heavy perv under/overtones. Irresistible, in other words. Ideal if you love 'Slow' by MBV, for example.

[ecargmura]

Babel: An Arcane History Book Review

I’ve been curious about Babel, so I asked my brother to buy it for my birthday earlier this year. I’ve heard different things about R.F. Kuang’s writing, so I decided to not look at Babel’s reviews and dive into the book without any prior knowledge about the plot. How was it? It was both the best thing I’ve read and the most depressing.

Story

The story is about Robin Swift who was on the verge of dying in Canton (Guangzhou) but get saved by Professor Lovell who heals him with a mysterious silver bar. He then gives Robin an offer: come with him to London where he works at the Royal Institute of Translation and become a scholar or become homeless in Canton. Robin chooses the former, so he abandons his Chinese name and becomes Robin Swift; he moves to London where he gets assimilated into the life of an Englishman. He then enrolls in Oxford in the translation department. He becomes friends with Ramy, Victoire and Letty and the two become a tight group of friends. Ramy is from Calcutta, India; VIctoire is from Haiti and raised in France for a time in her life; Letty is an Englishwoman. After a few months of attending university, he is approached by a mysterious man named Griffin who is trying to recruit him into an anti-imperialist society called Hermes. Their goal is to overthrow Britain’s colonialism. Robin joins and then he gets entangled in a war of colonialism and anti-colonialism and his own war of survival.

Magic System

While this is considered a speculative fiction, this is still dark academia, which means there has to be some sort of fantasy element. The magic system of this story revolves around silver. Silver is made into bars where one word is written on one side and then the translation is on the other side. What’s written on the bar is what activates the power. However, in order for the power to be strong, the fluency of the language is most important. Translation is the key factor because the word has to be accurate and precise in order for that power to activate. If you’re unable to write or speak that language then the power weakens. It’s an extremely intricate system that matches the themes of the story.

Characters

I really like the characters and how they are written. Robin is easily my favorite character; I really like reading through his struggles and his desire to survival. If one to describe his character, he is a survivalist; he prioritizes survival above all else to the point that it becomes martyrdom whether it be survival for himself or for his friends. Ramy serves as a good companion to Robin. He’s street smart, charming and prioritizes his friends above all else. I think that he has the best relationship with Robin as he calls him Birdie. Their relationship was my favorite and I hate how everything ended. Victoire also serves as a good parallel to Robin as her story is similar to Robin’s, but her personality is much more headstrong in a way. Griffin serves as a good foil to Robin, from his appearance to his end. Griffin and Robin are half-brothers; both share the same father (Lovell) but how they were raised were completely different. Griffin is described to have similar features to Robin, but his hair and eyes are darker. He’s also more prone to violence and silence; he’s like a darker version of Robin in a way.

While Kuang makes good characters, her villains are infuriatingly well-written too. She knows how to write racist white characters well. Lovell was a scumbag who only thought of colonialism. He hates Chinese people, calls them derogatory words like “barbaric” and describes them as lazy and savage yet he loves Chinese goods like their wallpaper and other objects he curated from his Chinese trips and knows the language; he hates the people yet he’s willing to impregnate two Chinese women from different areas just for them to give birth to tools that can benefit him and the empire—said tools being Griffin and then Robin. Robin once called him out for “killing” his mother but Lovell gets angry and calls his mother “just some woman” or “just a Chink” in certain parts of the book. What’s even more scummy of him is that he has a wife and two children, but he barely visits them. He deserved to die. Good fucking riddance.

Other white people were infuriating too as they were jerks to Robin and his friends; the only nice white person in this story is Mrs. Piper. Letty herself show her true colors towards Chapter 23. Like most white people in this book, Letty is selfish and only thinks for her own benefits. She forces her friends to take a picture with her despite their discomfort. She forces them to go to a ball despite their protests. She gets called out for ignoring their suffering as people of color in London, which causes her to become upset, cry, and the three others had to comfort her. She then later betrays her friends by getting a gun and shooting Ramy, whom she had a crush on, because she didn’t want to be associated with a terrorist group like Hermes (how she described them) and that she thought her friends were insane for squandering their chances for an education at Oxford. Letty’s backstory mainly consists of her inability to get a proper education due to her gender, but eventually gets to Oxford as her brother died in an accident. She’s essentially the 1800’s version of a “Karen”.

Themes

From what I can curate, the major themes of this book are identity and violence. Identity plays a big factor as Robin always sees himself as Chinese despite being mixed and China-born. It’s almost an important factor because Robin’s identity as a Chinaman gets questioned multiple times. He has to assimilate as an Englishman, so he has to speak like one; he even had to discard his own Chinese name as proof of his lost identity. While he is always referred to as a Chinaman from his peers, during his trip to Canton, he tells one guy that he’s from China; the man responds with a scoff and says “No, you’re not” (Page 299). Identity is what drives Ramy and Victoire as well. Ramy has never assimilated as an Englishman like how Robin did; instead, he embraces his Indian heritage and still keeps his Indian name. Victoire was raised to speak French, but given that she’s Haitian (therefore Black), she gets upset that Kreyol isn’t considered an official language and that not being able to speak her mother tongue frustrates her in a way. Identity is what caused Letty to betray her friends. It was because of her identity as an English woman in the 1800’s that she believed what she had done was beneficial for her and her friends. 

Loss of identity is also a theme. Language is an identity and losing it affects one’s identity. Loss of identity was what caused Griffin to be discarded for he lost the ability to speak his mother tongue. That was why he faked his death on an expedition and became a member of Hermes. Our other main characters minus Letty lose the ability to speak their mother tongues as time passes in the book. They get upset over this because it’s like losing a part of who they are. They’re foreign-born, but live in London and if they lose their mother tongue, they become closer to Londoners and not as people from their home countries. How they fret over this is actually scary in a way.

Violence is probably the major theme of this story. Violence is the reason why colonialism happens and it’s also the reason why people are affected by it. Violence is the cause of many suffering and sorrow. Everyone in the story is affected by violence in a way. Robin and Griffin are the biggest victims of it. They witness violence, internal and external, and it warps their entire mindset. Robin’s exposure to violence causes him to find a way to survive and to fight for a cause because of his identity. Griffin’s exposure to violence is to fight back with violence as he’s probably one of the more violent characters in the story. 

Violence is also the reason why the villains do heinous things and it’s because of it that the main characters fight back. Imperialism is a factor of violence and it’s because of it that other nations outside of Britain suffer while the British do not care. I really like violence is both a force of evil and a method of good in a way; it’s ultimately a morally gray force.

Gripes

My issues with this story is that some chapters feel like a chore to read through. It’s nice seeing Kuang showing off the fruits of her research to make London and Oxford historically accurate, but it does get too much sometimes.  Chapter 4 was especially hard to read through because of how long and wordy it was. The footnotes were also a bit of a chore to read; it does feel like I’m reading a non-fiction book whenever I see them. Also, what is up with Chapter 30? It felt incomplete in a way as Chapter 31 starts off with the same two words in Chapter 30. 

Conclusion

Despite my gripes, this was an amazing reading experience. I really love every aspect of the story from how it started to how it ended. I really liked how the author wasn’t afraid to explore these kinds of topics in her writing and it showed. I consider Kuang a courageous write for being able to write all of this.

This is definitely a 5-star read and I recommend this to anyone wanting to read dark academia; this is actually my first dive into dark academia and I’d definitely read more. The thickness might be scary, but it’s a fun read; I’m a slow reader so thick books like Babel usually take me around a month and a half to finish, but I actually finished this story in 16 days. It’s something you won’t regret reading!

[dollsonmain]

Camera why.

Anyway.

What I should have done was to decide which paper I want to cover the appliances in and do that first, but only partway so that I could cut out and glue down the center (wrap it through), then put the plastic on, then the rest of the paper but I didn’t even think of that until I had just adhered the second piece of plastic.

So to remedy the mistake, though I may still end up having to start over on the doors and that’s ok other than I don’t want to do that, I went around the window framing areas with silver foil tape. I plan to use some on the fridge as trim, so it’s fine.

Also, while I was doing that, I had an AH-HA moment about how to do something and it’s 100% gone, now. I don’t even know what it

I

REMEMBER

omg I remembered something I’d lost holy shit.....

I need a sheet of sticky black craft foam (though I can glue it myself if I have to) and maybe a sheet of white, too, and to get the doors to stay shut, the craft foam, which would be the backs of the doors, should fit snugly into the frames of the corresponding door. Snug enough to hold, loose enough to come off without pulling free of the door it’s on. Tension hold.

I had considered trying to install magnets but the way things are designed that would be a no. The plastic is a half-inch thick around the fridge door.

-

So now I really am at the point where I have to decide how I want to do the wallpaper and the appliances because that’s all that’s left for the kitchen other than finding some dishes.

I just need a few to fill the dish rack.

[proccessandinquirydavidsmith]

Creating my 3D Resolved Artwork.

For my final 3D piece. I have continued my work with gold foil and relief surfaces to make an abstract 3D piece that incorporates 2D materials wile being made from 3D and printmaking materials.

I used a A2 piece of foamboard as the base, then cut a piece of gold foil from another emergency head blanket and rapped it around the foamboard like canvas being stretched on the frame. I used masking tape to secure it

Above is the gold rapped base against my wall with my other gold banket draped over it as wallpaper.

the use of gold foil walls is inspired by a piece of installation art by John M Armleder. A Visual Artist who has made a massive body of work of Installations, Paintings, sculptures and preformance art.

I first started using gold foil in my artwork because of the workshop and after seeing Al Anatsui's "Scottish Mission book Depot Keta" at the Talbot Rice gallery during the Edinburgh trip.

The base with a piece of painted foamboard representing the train route,

I thought the black line was to thin with the blue and white on top, so a added another piece of black foamboard to make it look visually better and to add more 3D to the composition. this new black piece will be important and helpful later this pieces development.

[addindiagroup]

How To Incorporate Metal Elements in Your Home Interior Design

Metal elements in home interior design can be just what you're looking for if you want to give your home decor a luxury makeover. Burnished bronze, blazing copper, brilliant gold, and shimmering silver hues are all receiving attention right now. Adding metal elements in home interior design will boost the design of your spaces and make them shine, regardless of your preferred colour scheme or décor motif.

Here are several easy yet chic ways to create an affluent sense to your home's decor, from pendant lamps to attractive sinks, shining wall décor to mirror frames using metal elements in home interior design.

1. Metallics in Your Bedroom

Including metal elements in home interior design, and in your bedroom's wall decor, bed linen, and lighting fixtures is a simple way to glam it up. As we can see in these magnificent bedrooms, gold, silver, or copper give luxurious elegance to both black and white colour schemes.

Additionally, black metal elements in home interior design can still add a metallic touch to your home if glitzy bling isn't your style. Black metal elements in home interior design is a versatile material that works well in both classic and modern decor.

Want a subtle look? Gold is the only metal elements in home interior design that does it well! Furthermore, it acts flawlessly in even the tiniest amounts. As we can see in this tastefully decorated white-on-white bedroom, it only takes one golden accent to turn a space from stark to enticing.

Or, if you want to go all out, here is a luxurious bedroom that will make you feel like King Midas with the golden touch! Everything in this room is the height of luxury, from the gilded furniture to the bed linen, the wallpaper to the curtains.

This bedroom is just stunning, and black and gold are combined to wonderful effect. Simple linear canvases are adorned with rough gold paint to give them a luxurious look. The gold-finished statement chandelier and the black and gold wall clock highlight the concept even more.

This beautifully designed bed, covered in gold, is sure to turn heads. To give the design cohesion, add a few gold touches in other areas of the space, like the artwork.

The black metal elements in home interior design world map stand out above the black leather headboard in this new-age bedroom, and black metal wall lights enhance the design.

This little bedroom comes to life with abstract artwork in brushed steel that is right on trend. The cushions' whorls and curves mimic the idea of curvilinearity, bringing the design together. The feeling of understated elegance is enhanced by the soft pink satin sheets that sparkle in the light.

2. Add Sparkle with Mirrors

Every interior designer has a secret gem in their toolbox: mirrors, which instantly transform any space. By skillfully aligning spaces, they may add visual depth and complexity. more so if they are framed in stunning metal elements in home interior design!

The beautiful brass flowers and metallic sculptures in this foyer are well paired by an attractive octagonal mirror with beaten brass framing. Gold-foil-covered paintings are framed in sleek metallic frames or metal elements in home interior design to provide a touch of elegance.

In this living room, a spherical mirror above a console table has golden spokes that radiate out from it and look stunning against the all-white furnishings. The goblet made of silver with stones on it offers sparkle and visual intrigue.

3. Glam Up Your Kitchen

Infusing your kitchen with warm metallic tones and metal elements in home interior design is a simple way to increase its bling factor. Choose to prepare food the old-fashioned way using copper or brass utensils, which are believed to add flavour and essential minerals to food. And to give your kitchen an old-world, rustic character, hang up metal pots and ladles rather than hiding these stunning containers behind closed shutters.

This simple, all-black kitchen is instantly transformed from boring to beautiful by an aged copper backsplash. Long horizontal copper handles give off a unified look and radiate handmade grandeur.

4. Metal Elements in Home Interior Design For Sumptuous Bathrooms

Finely veined black Italian marble countertops topped with shining golden sinks and accessories will transform your bathroom into a stylish space.

This bathroom offers a fresh take on terrazzo by combining poured mosaic on the walls and floors with gold-tipped lights and mirrors, using metal elements in home interior design.

Rose marble is used on the sink in a Turkish-style bathroom together with elaborate copper bowls and faucets for an opulent touch. Source Link :   https://addindiagroup.com/how-to-incorporate-metal-elements-in-your-home-interior-design/

[anantradingpvtltd]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] The kitchen aluminium foil stickers are made from plastic and aluminium foil, which is much stronger against high temperature than a normal PVC sheet. The Anti-bacterial, Anti-mould, and Eco-friendly PVC materials are safe enough to use in Kitchen. Self-adhesive kitchen wallpaper is easy to stick on the dry, clean and smooth surface. Anti-oil, anti-dust, and anti-water, anti-moisture PVC material allows you to wipe stains easily. Back cut-to-fit grid lines design of the self-adhesive kitchen oil proof sticker is convenient for you to cut and trim any size you want. This silver rhombus texture adds more fashion to your kitchen décor. The kitchen backsplash wallpaper is great for home decorations to be used in kitchen cabinets, countertop, shelves, walls, Pantry areas, Dishwashers, Dishwasher Panels, Oven Hood, Refrigerators, appliance, etc., instant peel and apply to flat surfaces. ✔HOW TO USE 1.Clean the surface where will be pasted, make sure there is nothing on it. 2. Measure the size of the coverage. Cut the paper into right size, it's better to leave about 2-5cm extra. 3. Peel off the backing paper evenly while moving the contact paper to the surface. 4. Paste the contact paper gently and slide it form middle to edge. 5. Paste the contact paper on edge and heat it with hair dryer. 6. Cut off excess contact paper at last. Easy to Install: Self-adhesive, just need to peel and stick. There are grid lines behind the wallpaper for you to scissor accurately. Removable, no glue residue. Material: High quality aluminium foil. Application: Suitable for the kitchen backsplash, cabinets, dishwasher, refrigerators, microwave ovens, cabinet and other smooth surfaces. Please buy enough rolls at a time to make sure they come from the same batch to avoid colour difference. Size: 60 x 200 cm || 24 x 80 Inches || 2 M [ad_2]

[kidspartyideas]

Simple Tips and Ideas to Make Your Kids Birthday Memorable

Kids are crazy about superheroes, and not just boys but also girls are equally in love with these superheroes. So much so that they want superhero girls party supplies Sydney and themes for their birthday event. The good thing is that these suppliers of party accessories and supplies understand this and have unique and easy superhero party ideas. Your responsibility is to research smartly and choose supplies to decorate your event venue and celebrate with your little superhero.

SUPERHERO PARTY COLOUR PALETTE

Every superhero has some colours that represent him, and these colours can be instrumental in decorating and arranging party supplies. You can use bright and bold multi-colour palettes of blue, yellow, red, black and a hint of metallic in star war kid’s party supplies. Then, silver also works fine for a fun superhero party.

CITY LANDSCAPE BACKDROP

The story of every superhero begins with saving a city or a nation, and this is where you can capitalise on as far as superhero girls party supplies Sydney are concerned.

You can use 3D wallpapers to transform any wall into an incredible city skyline that gives an authentic look of a superhero movie. There is always the option of decorating this wall as per your choice and themes based on star war party ideas Sydney.

SUPERHERO WALL DECAL

Another exciting way to give a superhero party look to your event venue is decorating your wall with awesome vinyl decals. These decals should feature superhero masks and lightning bolts that are readily available at the vendors of star wars kids' party supplies. They are imposing and primarily available for batman fans. You can create a stunning backdrop very quickly behind the cake table, and some other accessories like balloon garlands, can also be used to make the area more attractive.

SUPERHERO BALLOONS

There would be nothing more impressive than superhero balloons used for decorating the event venue. These balloons are often a part of superhero girl’s party supplies Sydney and go really well with star wars party ideas Sydney. The vendors of these supplies have these balloons available for different superheroes, like there are bright starburst-shaped foil balloons to make the venue look more beautiful. There are also lightning bolt-shaped foil balloons to give a simple and modern look to your superhero party. Also, there are balloons for superheroes like superman, wonder woman, captain America, spider-man, batman, Black Panther and a superhero collection.

Apart from these, there are also superhero themes, tableware and cake decorations available at very economical rates. Then, there are also fabulous lightning bolt napkins and other supplies like party cups, plates, and so on to make the birthday event memorable.

Learn More

* What essential Kid's birthday decoration items You Must Have

* Why are piñatas so popular for kids birthday parties?

[ecwallpaper]

Introduce you to the mystery of hand-painted wallpaper

Introduce you to the mystery of hand-painted wallpaper

WUXI EASTERN CLASSICAL HANDPAINTED WALLPAPER CO.,LTD, hand painted silk wallpaper and Silk hand painted wallpaper, wallpaper can be specially customized according to customer wall size and requirements, wallpaper pictures are all hand-painted by the artist, mainly used in luxury hotels, clubs , bars, villas, hotels, KTV and other high-end places. At the same time, there will be more than 30 color cards with background colors and various styles of paintings. The materials are environmentally friendly silk, gold, silver and copper foil, PVC processing, etc. The pasting method is the same as the ordinary wallpaper pasting method, using the dry pasting method of seamless splicing, so that the pattern is continuous and not repeated.

1. The hand-painted silk wallpaper itself is environmentally friendly. It uses high-grade paper as the base material and the traditional craftsmanship of real silk as the material, combined with the exquisite painting skills of professional painters, and the perfect combination of artificial mounting and modern post-processing technology. It has the characteristics of good environmental protection, air permeability, high-grade, mildew-proof, waterproof, crack-proof, not easy to fade, easy to replace, easy to clean, realistic pattern, strong decorative effect, etc. It adopts seamless splicing technology to make the pattern more perfect. It is used to decorate the living room, giving people a feeling of elegance, softness and comfort. Because of its unique luxurious luster and the charming charm of Chinese painting, it presents an unparalleled sense of elegance and nobility.

2. Silk hand painted wallpaper has a certain tension due to the velvet fibers, so it can well cover the defect of wall cracks.

3. Silk hand-painted wallpaper has a strong decorative effect. The silk hand-painted wallpaper with different background colors can be matched with other decorative materials and household items to create a living space with different feelings and styles. Whether from gorgeous flowers to cartoon animals to ink landscapes, silk hand-painted wallpapers can create different visual effects and spiritual enjoyment: silk hand-painted wallpapers are the participants and deciders of home style, interpreting classical tradition, modern simplicity, abstraction, romance , gorgeous, elegant, pastoral, unrestrained Chinese traditional and European styles. Pleasant and warm, leisure and comfort, bright sunshine, full of vitality. Silk hand-painted wallpaper makes the interior wall a landscape, more colorful.

4. The production of silk hand-painted wallpaper has a strong flexibility, and can be designed and produced according to the different styles, preferences and sizes of customers. At the same time, we can design and customize according to the samples provided by customers.

5. Silk hand painted wallpaper can be reused. If the customer needs to reuse the silk hand-painted wallpaper for various reasons, you can carefully peel off a layer of silk on the surface of the wallpaper, and we can re-frame it for the customer so that it can be reused continuously.

Ecwallpaper is a well-known Hand-painted wallpaper manufacturer, all hand-painted wallpapers reflect traditional Chinese culture, which is completely different from the printed wallpapers currently on the market. Our wallpapers are painted on different substrates such as silk, metal, tea paper, the bright colors last for more than a hundred years, customers can provide design patterns and any materials and fabrics suitable for painting. Our painted wallpapers are environmentally friendly products and are harmless to human health.

[oxatouchofthewickedxo]

these graphics were made by me, atouchofthewicked!

“if it doesn’t open, it’s not your door” quote on a blue gradient background.

version 1 is in gold glitter text & version 2 is in silver foil text.

[naminezine]

BORN FROM THE WAVES — LEFTOVER SALE LIVE!

Welcome to the “Born From The Waves”! A charity zine dedicated to Naminé from Kingdom Hearts. This 75+ page zine celebrates Naminé’s character, and will feature all-new illustrations and written works by our talented artists and writers!

After shipping, the remaining proceeds will be donated to the Surfrider Foundation!

Our storefront will be open starting from June 15 and will close once all our remaining stock are sold out. We currently have 7 different bundles available, including the option to buy individual items. More details about bundle contents and shipping are under the cut.

🌊 VISIT OUR STORE NOW!

BUNDLES

Please note, stretch goals are sold separately during this sale!

📒 — Individual Merch Items, $1.50 - $10.00 USD

Acrylic standee ($10)

Bracelet ($5)

Charm (Silver Foil) ($7)

Charm (Flowers) ($6)

Enamel pin ($5)

Memo pad ($3)

Postcard ($1.50)

Print ($2)

Star button ($2)

Sticker sheet ($3)

Washi tape ($3)

🌟 — Digital Stars, $10.00 USD

Digital Zine

Wallpaper of the cover

Digital merchandise

1 postcard, FCFS

🔖 — Stretch Goals Bundle, $10.00 USD

1 enamel pin

1 memo pad

1 washi tape

🖍️ — Crayon Memories, $25.00 USD

Physical Zine

1 postcard

1 print

🎨 — Linked Palettes, $35.00 USD

Physical Zine

1 postcard

1 print

1 sticker sheet

1 charm

💌 — All Physical Merch Bundle, $40.00 USD

1 postcard

1 print

1 sticker sheet

2 charms

1 button

1 pearl bracelet with Naminé’s signature yellow star

1 standee

1 enamel pin

1 memo pad

1 washi tape

🌊 — Watercolor Waves, $45.00 USD

Physical Zine

1 postcard

1 print

1 sticker sheet

2 charms

1 button

💫 — Pastel Dreams, $55.00 USD

Digital Zine

Digital merchandise

Physical Zine

1 postcard

1 print

1 sticker sheet

2 charms

1 button

1 pearl bracelet with Naminé’s signature yellow star

1 standee

SHIPPING

All orders will be shipped from the US. Shipping price vary depending on items bought but below are the highest shipping price for any of our zine book bundles. Combined shipping also available.

🌊 DOMESTIC SHIPPING (US) — $15.00 USD 🌊 INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING — $29.00 USD

[waxwing-saint]

[music]Mione - “So it Goes”

Black smoke, noir (like a skintight, floor-length dress that's slit to mid-thigh), thick, tacky in your mouth. Pairs especially well with a Grey!Mione.

“So it Goes” by Taylor Swift Bellamione

Half essay, half synesthete’s playground. If that sounds like your thing, get your hands dirty under the cut.

The song opens with that black smoke reverb I was talking about. Visually it’s some sort of party--Death Eaters, or high society. Whatever it is there is a threat to it, a blade. I keep seeing that long table in Malfoy Manor, pewter goblets full of rich, dark wine.

See you in the dark All eyes on you, my magician All eyes on us You make everyone disappear, and

I wish I knew more about music so I could describe this well, but that slow winding electronic sound, present and undeniable, like Charybdis. The dark pull of Bellatrix entering a room. All eyes on the two of them, but Hermione can’t look anywhere else.

Cut me into pieces Gold cage, hostage to my feelings Back against the wall Trippin', trip-trippin' when you're gone

Cut me -intopieces-. That brief uptick in pace--like Hermione’s breath catching in her throat when Bellatrix’s hand lands on her lower back, guiding, leading her around this unsafe space. She’s a prize and Bellatrix acts like it, shows her off like the spoils of war. Her pet. The party isn’t even for her, but she’s still made it her triumphus.

'Cause we break down a little But when you get me alone, it's so simple 'Cause baby, I know what you know We can feel it

And it builds, Hermione’s excitement, on the razor’s edge between adrenaline and desire. Is fight or flight sexy, lads? Most would say no, but I suspect the Bellamione crowd disagrees.

And all the pieces fall right into place Getting caught up in a moment Lipstick on your face So it goes… I'm yours to keep And I'm yours to lose You know I'm not a bad girl, but I Do bad things with you So it goes…

Then smashcut to a hallway. Forest green wallpaper with a silver foil fleur-de-lis pattern (it’s catching the old-amber light just right). Hermione with her back up against it, Bella’s hands at the small of her waist, holding her there. Hermione’s dark purple-red lipstick smeared, arching, head back and Bella’s mouth at her throat. Hermione slowly drawing one knee up the outside of Bellatrix’s leg.

Met you in a bar All eyes on me, your illusionist All eyes on us

By the next fancy party things have started to shift, Hermione is finding her footing, finding her agency. While Bellatrix always had some modicum of respect for her, they’re now on equal ground, and Bella isn’t afraid to show reverence in public, and that kind of change in demeanor is bound to turn some heads. When Hermione says all eyes on us it’s less fearful, more voyeuristic. This time everyone is looking at the two of them together, not at Bellatrix as captor and her as trophy. She has power. Bellatrix is a magician (a word that is dark red and black, swirling wild and windy), where Hermione fashions herself an illusionist, a much fainter word, foggy grey and starlit.

I make all your gray days clear And wear you like a necklace I'm so chill, but you make me jealous But I got your heart Skippin', skip-skippin' when I'm gone 'Cause we break down a little But when I get you alone, it's so simple 'Cause baby, I know what you know We can feel it

Once Hermione has a grasp on this, the stability only grows. High heels, slinky walk, legs crossing over each other with each step, the slow camera pan up her calves. You know that heavy, bloody smell of red wine? Here they are equals, but she commands Bellatrix in a way the onlookers can’t see. There’s a tight-wrapped possessiveness. Strands of hair wound around your knuckles and paling your fingers.

And all the pieces fall right into place Getting caught up in a moment Lipstick on your face So it goes… I'm yours to keep And I'm yours to lose You know I'm not a bad girl, but I Do bad things with you So it goes…

Back to the chorus, but this time things are different. Now they rule together. All these people, the people that used to make Hermione’s stomach churn nervously, they mean nothing. Their gaze, their attention. It all means nothing. She’s not a bad girl, but...

Come here, dressed in black now So, so, so it goes Scratches down your back now So, so, so it goes

‘So it goes’ implies an inevitability. Flippant. However we got here, we’re here now. Also, if you want to get all literary (which, you know, why not), in Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut would cap deaths with the phrase “so it goes”. In a way, ‘Mione’s old life (whatever that may be, in your own personal experience of this song) is gone. Does she mourn for it? Maybe, but the very physical action of scratching nails down Bellatrix’s back is a sort of burial, it grounds her here and now and not in memories of the past.

You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who's counting? I did a number on you But, honestly, baby, who's counting? You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who's counting? Who's counting? (One, two, three)

The whole pacing of the song changes here, a slowing, and a deliberate cadence. A tutting of a tongue. There’s a curling, tensing, edgy playfulness. This game is laced with the dangerous energy of Hermione’s very clear and intentional phrasing. And then it immediately lightens for the actual counting One Two Three like she’s shoving, smiling, and they build up and tip over into that next crashing chorus.

And all the pieces fall right into place Getting caught up in a moment Lipstick on your face So it goes… I'm yours to keep And I'm yours to lose You know I'm not a bad girl, but I I do bad things with you So it goes… Come here, dressed in black now So, so, so it goes Scratches down your back now So, so, so it goes Come here, dressed in black now So, so, so it goes Scratches down your back now So, so, so it goes

[kingdomofwallpaper247]

Wallpaper Designs for Walls ! Call Us Now +91 8512000888

Some people don't seem to be ready to decorate their homes in keeping with their tastes. You're ready to underwrite this sort of project if you're lucky enough. Learn more about wallpaper design for home. You might have an interest in interior design if you invest in art. One painting can make an area stand out and provide it with a way of purpose. The painting is often used as a tenet for decorating the rest of your room. However, the wallpaper design and pattern behind the painting play a crucial role. This blog brings wallpaper ideas that will make you an expert at selecting the designs, patterns and wallpaper shops near you. We travel around the world to bring you the most remarkable wallpaper ideas, go deep into our libraries to explore colors and patterns of wallpapers. And bring ideas for the most lovable walls to bring you the very latest interior trends.

Choosing the right wallpaper design and knowing how much to buy is tricky. Search for wallpapers shop near me hit the store and use these tips to shop for wallpapers with success.

Wallpaper Shades & Colours

The wallpaper pattern you choose can make a room appear larger, cosier, and brighter, and sometimes even hide the imperfection of the room. Taking a cue from colour can set the mood of the room. To make a space look bigger and the ceiling higher, pick cool-colour patterns of wallpapers, like blue, green or violet. These colours bring tranquillity. Intense colours look fresh and dramatic. Whereas, warm colour wallpaper designs for walls like shades of reds, yellows, and oranges make people feel warmer on the premises. People who live in colder climates prefer these shades of wallpapers and they also work well in rooms facing north. Remember, the more intense the colour, the better the enthusiasm it gives to a room.

Room Facing and Wallpapers

If it's a north-facing room or dark hallway or a room without windows, play with lights and look for wallpaper for walls that reflect light around the room. Like patterns with light shades and with gold leafing, silver leafing 3D panels. Also, take patterns with smooth surfaces into considerations as they reflect maximum light. Dark tints absorb light and make walls appear closer, resulting in a smaller room. Even textured wallpapers also make walls look darker.

Hide Imperfection with Perfect Wallpapers

If there is any damage to the walls, hide it with a textured pattern of the wallpaper. A perceived texture hides and camouflage imperfections of the wall or any architectural mistake. These textured patterns are tactile surfaces like string cloth, grass, burlap, fabric, foil, and vinyl. Other wallpaper patterns may look like wood, marble, leather and even animal skins. A layered design pattern of wallpapers for walls also creates a perception of texture. For more, keep reading our other wallpaper blogs.

[deliriumsdelight7]

Breaking Cycles - Chapter 9

TRIGGER WARNING: The first scene of this chapter contains references to past drug use, as well as a vague description of an established character death (If you've seen California Solo, you know the one). It also contains a fairly vivid description of a panic attack. If you're not comfortable reading this, you can skip it by CTRL-F'ing "Lacey Rose French" to bring you to scene 2.

The world communicated to him in swirls and spirals.  How had he never noticed it before?  Everything around him, everything in him, everything that ever was.  The links of Jed’s silver bracelet.  The curls in Pete’s hair.  Jeff’s silver hoop earring.  The drugs that pumped through his veins, circulating around and around.  The music that eddied out of him, past the whorls of his fingertips, plucked into the tightly-coiled ringlets of his guitar strings, rippling out the speaker of his amp.  The music spiraled around them, swelling in crescendo as the four of them fed on each other’s energy.  Even the mustard-yellow paisley wallpaper danced and swirled in time with their wild melody.

Then, discord.  Panic.  One of the four fell, breaking the quartet.  Terror hammered a snare drum roll in his chest, tasted acrid in his mouth.  Relax.  Give him time - he’ll sleep it off.  Keep going.  Need to finish tonight.  Can’t focus - the music comes out stilted and strained, and eventually not at all.  Just let me fucking check!  Jaw slack, eyes open and unseeing.  Skin cold and stiff under desperate fingers.  Jed’s dead, Lach!  He’s fucking dead!

Lachlan awoke with a choked off scream, clawing at the cloth of his loose-fitting T-shirt with blunt fingernails.  His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and his chest was heavy and aching, like something massive was weighing him down, keeping the air from filling his lungs.  The cold sweat covering him did nothing to alleviate the burning pinpricks that assailed him from head to toe.

Tears stung his eyes, panicked whimpers escaping with each exhale.  Fuck, he was having a heart attack.  Or a stroke.  Or an aneurysm?  He didn’t know what the hell that was, but it sounded bad.  He needed a doctor, or - or a hospital, or maybe just a fucking priest to read him his last rites.  He wanted to reach for his phone, but couldn’t get his shaking hands to relinquish their death grip on his shirt.  He tried to call for help, or just scream wordlessly until his lungs gave out.  But all that came from his throat was a pitiful whine.

This is it, a small corner of his mind thought.  I’m dying.  I’m going to die alone in this bed, and nobody’s going to give a shite.  Nobody would even think to check on him until the stink of rot set in, a few days from now.  Nobody would come to his funeral.  The vultures who descended on his few belongings might take his PC, maybe pick through his CDs and vinyls halfheartedly.  Forty-five years, and his only mark on the world would be a dumpster of old clothes and empty bottles.

He lay tangled in his sweat-soaked sheets, helpless to do anything but wait for the end to come.  Would it hurt?  The sharp pains in his chest were frightening, but not the agony he expected.  Was this how Jed felt when he died?  Or had Lachlan coerced him into taking enough drugs that he’d slipped off quietly?  And what about his parents?  Had they faced death as he did now - alone, in pain, and petrified?  If so, this was no less than he deserved.

Little by little, the tightness in his chest loosened, allowing him to take longer, slower breaths.  His hands relinquished their grip on his shirt and flopped limply to his sides while his pulse gradually slowed.  Clarity of thought returned with the calm.  He wasn’t having a heart attack.  He wasn’t dying.  He was just going bloody barmy.

Stumbling out of bed, he picked his way blindly through his flat without switching the lights on, heading to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.  He’d much rather wet his parched throat with something stronger, but like a pure numpty he’d finished the last of his whisky on Wednesday after the shite show that was his last… ever?... meeting with Belle.

He quickly shoved thoughts of that last conversation aside.  He didn’t want to think about her just now.  He had enough on his mind right now.

Like nightmares.  He hadn’t had one of those in well over a decade, ever since…  He tried to think, taking a gulp of water between gasps.  Last time he’d had one of these episodes had to have been thirteen years ago, now, shortly after Arianwen was born.  Catherine had begged him to go sober for their baby daughter, and he’d checked himself into a two-week alcohol rehab program when she was eight months along.  She’d gone into labor shortly after he got back, and by the time their little family had been discharged from the hospital she’d been ready to jump into parenthood with both feet.

She hadn’t counted on being woken up by her newly-sober husband’s night terrors on top of their daughter’s nightly feedings and changings.  After those first few months, they were both so frazzled that only consideration for the baby had kept them from having screaming rows every night.  The word “divorce” had been thrown around more than once.  And when he started spending his evenings “practicing guitar” in the basement with his hand on the bottle more than the fretboard, Catherine said nothing.  He was pretty sure she’d just been relieved that she had one less screaming infant to comfort.

Lachlan drained his glass and set it on the counter.  The glowing numbers over the stove told him that it was after four in the morning.  Payday today, finally.  If he could just get through the next twelve hours, he’d have the money to pick up a bottle of whisky and drown out all of the regrets that threatened to overwhelm him.

With an exhausted sigh, he trudged back to bed, collapsing face first into his pillow.  He didn’t have to get up for work for a few more hours.  Chances were good his jittery nerves wouldn’t let him fall back asleep any time soon, but he could at least rest.  

******

“Lacey Rose French!  How many times have I told you to rinse your tupperware when you’re done with them?”  Belle slammed the lid back on the food container with a gag.  “Or at least don’t leave them in your lunch bag for days on end!” she yelled over the music as Lacey turned the volume up on her speakers.

“Yes, mum!” Lacey called from her perch on the couch, where she was painting her toenails.  “Anything else you want to lecture me on?  Want to make sure I did my homework?  Or set me a curfew?”

“I wish I could,” Belle muttered, plunging her arms back into the scalding dishwater.  Life would be infinitely easier if she didn’t have to pick her sister up from various bars and pubs more often than not, occasionally having to cover Lacey’s bar tab and add the sum to the running tally of money and favors that Belle was owed.  She scrubbed vigorously at her baking sheet, her efforts loosening only the top layer of caked on grime.  “And how many times do I have to ask you to use foil or my baking mat if you’re going to make nachos?”

“Oh my god, I get it!”

“Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t keep doing it!”  With a sigh, she stopped scrubbing.  Any more and she’d be scratching the surface of her good baking sheet.  Another ten minutes of soaking should loosen more of the crusted-on cheese, sauce and grease.

As she dried her pruned, reddened hands off on a dishtowel, she heard the opening strains of a familiar song.  It was a song from one of the CDs Lachlan had played last Saturday.  The familiar pang of heartache hadn’t really left her all week, but it sometimes liked to give a give a fresh stab to remind her that it was still there.

Spent my days with a woman unkind

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going to California with an aching in my heart

It had been one of her favorites off of that album, but now she couldn’t stand to listen to it.  “Turn that noise off!”

“Oh my god, Belle, what the fuck!”  Lacey reared up onto her feet, her stance awkward as she tried to keep her still-drying toes separated.  “Why are you being such a bitch this week?”

“Seriously?  You have to ask?”

“What, is this about last weekend?”  She rolled her eyes.  “I said I was sorry about that!  Brad had an emergency and had to leave.  If I’d known your boyfriend was gonna dump you over it, I would’ve sucked it up and called a cab.”

You should’ve done that anyway, she thought bitterly.  “Lachlan wasn’t my boyfriend,” she said, and oh, that shouldn’t have hurt to say as much as it did.  They’d had two dates.  It wasn’t exactly the end of a long-term relationship.  But seeing him, getting to know him and be known by him… it was the one thing she’d had to look forward to.  The one thing she did for herself, apart from reading.

“So his name’s Lachlan?” Lacey asked with a sly grin.  “Sounds like one of those muscley shirtless guys on those dirty books you keep under your bed.  Does he wear a kilt and live in a castle in the highlands?”

“Drop it,” Belle snarled.

Lacey huffed with a scowl.  “You know what?  You’re being fucking unbearable tonight.”  She packed up her pedicure kit (leaving the used cotton balls on the coffee table instead of throwing them away, Belle noticed) and stomped awkwardly off to her room, balancing on her heels to keep her toes apart.

She emerged less than ten minutes later ready to go out: hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing a sleeveless black shirt dress that was unbuttoned low enough to show her lacy violet bra.  On her feet were a pair of black strappy heeled sandals.

“I’m going out,” she announced unnecessarily.

“Wearing that?”

Lacey glared at her mutinously, but didn’t answer the question.  “As I was saying, I’m going out.  I can’t be around you right now.”  She snagged her purse and strode toward the door.  “Don’t wait up.  I’ll find a ride.”  

“Lacey--”

Slam!

With another sigh, Belle swept the used cotton balls off the coffee table and into the trash before the acetone could ruin the wood finish.  While she was at it, she swiped Lacey’s half-empty glass of soda from where it rested on one of Belle’s paperbacks.  The condensation beading on the glass had sunk into the cover; she hoped that in a few hours, the swollen ring would subside.  If it didn’t, at least it would match half of the rest of her books.

Turning in a full circle, she considered the apartment.  Dishes were soaking in the sink, but the kitchen was otherwise clean.  Nearly everything else was either done, or could wait until another day.  The only thing she’d been putting off was washing her sheets.  They’d stopped smelling like Lachlan days ago, but she hadn’t been able to commit to bringing them downstairs to the laundry.  

Tonight seemed as good a night as any, she reflected as she stripped the bed.  Lachlan was clearly done with her if his absence at the library tonight, as well as the lack of calls and texts, was any indication.  She still checked her phone every ten minutes or so, but refused to reach out herself.  She certainly wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence.  If he wanted to ask forgiveness for his unreasonable accusations, she’d be generous enough to hear him out.  As far as she was concerned, she had nothing to apologize for.  No matter how much part of her wanted to.

******

“Tryin’ to burn holes in her dress, Lach?”

“Huh?”  Lachlan tore his eyes from the billiard tables and spun on his barstool to look at his drinking partner.  His coworker, Tom, was sixty years old if he was a day, his brown, unstyled mullet and thick mustache liberally peppered with gray.  The foreman tended to have the two of them working the same jobs every day, so they’d gotten to chatting here and there.  Earlier today, Tom had noticed Lachlan’s shaking hands, and during their lunch break had brought Lachlan to the parking lot, ostensibly to help out with some car trouble.  The swig from the flask Tom kept under his passenger seat had fortified Lachlan enough to get through his shift, and as a repayment Lachlan had bought Tom his first round.

“Ye been lookin’ at that hen for the past half hour. I figure either she owes you money, or ye’d like a good look at what’s under that skirt.”

That hen was Belle as he had never seen her.  Apart from the one time he’d seen her in leggings, she always wore pretty, high-necked tops and flaring skirts that fluttered around her thighs.  Now she wore a black dress that looked more like a long men’s shirt, unbuttoned far enough that he could see her purple bra.  Her eyes, always a startling sky blue, stood out even further in the field of black eyeliner like twin moons in a night sky.  She was currently playing pool with some scruffy, greasy-haired man in a leather jacket… and mopping the floor with him, judging by their expressions.

“Just someone I know,” he said.  “Wasn’t expecting to see her here.”  He signaled the bartender for another whisky.

“So what the fuck are ye sittin’ here with me for, then?  Go talk to her!”

The bartender thunked a new glass in front of Lachlan, who nodded in thanks.  “Can’t,” he told Tom.  “She’s pissed off at me.”

Tom tried to take a swig of his beer and nod sagely at the same time, and wound up spilling down his front.  “Yer fault, I take it.”

“Hers.”  

Tom raised his eyebrows skeptically.  “Aye, that can happen, I s’pose.  Were you an arse about it?”

“Dunno.  Prob’ly, knowing me,” he admitted, taking a swallow of his drink with a grimace.

“So go fuckin’ talk to her!  Tell her yer sorry, make it sound good, and see if she’ll take you home.  Unless you’re lookin’ to spend yer night with me,” he joked, elbowing Lachlan in the ribs.

Lachlan snorted into his glass.  “Ugly bastard like you?  You’ll have to buy me a few more drinks first.”

“Pretty sure the wife wouldn’t want me takin’ home strays, anyway,” he muttered.  “Now go talk to her!  She just sunk the eight ball.  Now’s yer chance.”

He sat, considered.  He was still pissed off at her.  Not about kicking him out of the apartment - not anymore.  It was annoying, but it wasn’t like he was entitled to spend the night there whether she wanted it or not.  But the more he thought about it, the more it frustrated him that she volunteered so little about herself.  Oh, sure, he knew about books she liked, and her love of tea and baked goods, but getting anything personal out of her was like pulling teeth.  Maybe he was being a bit hypocritical - he hadn’t exactly spilled his guts to her - but hadn’t he earned something?  

But he missed her, damn it.  Not just because she got him out of the apartment, and not just for the sex.  Her bright smiles, her flirty giggles, the rapt look on her face when she listened to him, the faraway look in her eyes when she talked about something she cared about - all those little things filled a hole in him he hadn’t even realized was there.  This past week was the most lonely and miserable he’d felt since coming back to Scotland.  Wouldn’t it be worth it to swallow his pride just this once if it meant fixing things between them?

It would, he decided.  But only if she met him halfway.  He wasn’t going to grovel when 

Swallowing the last of his drink to fortify him, Lachlan wove through the tables to get to Belle.  She was currently bent over the table, re-racking the balls, and fuck, he could see her lacy purple knickers where her dress rode up.

“Any other takers?” she called as she stuffed her winnings from the last game into her bra.  Lachlan cleared his throat.  Belle glanced over her shoulder at him, then continued what she was doing.  “Yeah?”

“Belle.”

“Nope.”

He blinked, stricken.  Of all the reactions he might have expected, that definitely wasn’t one of them.  Anger, certainly.  The silent treatment, maybe.  But outright dismissal?  “Belle, can we please just talk?”

“Sorry, buddy, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”  Done racking up the balls, she chalked up a cue.  “If you want, you can call--”

“I don’t want to call you later!  I want to talk now!” he snapped.  Belle turned to face him, eyes narrowed.  Shite, how was he already cocking this up?  Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last drink or two.  “Please, Belle, I don’t want to fight,” he entreated.  “I’m sorry I accused you of cheating on your roommate with me.”  He reached out and laid a hand uncertainly on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off impatiently.  “My roommate.  Right.”  

If anything, she looked even angrier now.  This wasn’t going well at all.  “Belle - I - you’ve got to see things from my perspective,” he pleaded, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of his voice.  “You won’t tell me anything about him, except that he treats you like shite.  He calls you in the middle of the night, right when you were about to--”  He cut himself off.  She probably wouldn’t appreciate him announcing to the entire bar that she’d been about to ride his cock.  “And you just - just throw me out like yesterday’s trash.  Can you really fucking blame me for jumping to conclusions?”

Belle stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed.  He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, or an effect of the thick black eyeliner she wore, but the affection he’d missed so much in her eyes was gone.  He might as well have been a stranger.  Worse - he’d seen her greet strangers at the library with more warmth.  He fumbled nervously with his bracelet.

“Well… Lachlan…”  She paused, as though waiting for something.  Nothing happened, and she continued.  “Maybe I was being kind of a bitch.  Hell, I was probably being a huge bitch, knowing me.”

“I wouldn’t say--”

“I would,” she interrupted.  She leaned on her pool cue, cocking one hip out.  “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’d rather have you chop my leg off and beat me with it than fuck my roommate.”  She gave an exaggerated shudder.  “She and I barely put up with each other.”  

“So I gathered.”  He rubbed at his face in an effort to clear his head.  Something just felt off about this - something he couldn’t put his finger on.  “Belle, I don’t get it.  I know talking about your roommate is off-limits - god knows why - but I don’t understand why you put yourself out for someone you seem to hate.”

Lachlan must be drunker than he thought, because for a brief second he thought he saw a flash of hurt on her face.  “Who knows why the fuck I do anything,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  After a quick glance around the room, she laid her pool cue back on the table.  “Looks like nobody else has the balls to play me tonight.  Why don’t you buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you a bit about the roommate.”

“I… yeah.  That’d be great.”  Unable to believe his luck, he gestured for her to lead the way to the bar.  

******

Belle flipped over in bed for what was quite possibly the fiftieth time in the past hour.  Between working, cooking, cleaning, and her argument with Lacey, she was utterly exhausted and ready to sleep.  But she just couldn’t turn her brain off long enough to drift off.

If Lacey needed a ride home, she would have called or texted by now.  The bars were all closed by this point.  Objectively, Belle knew that she was probably in bed with one of her boyfriends.  What were their names again?  Brian, Tyler and Brad?  That sounded right.  But she’d never texted to say she wasn’t coming home.

Images played through her head like a silent movie.  Opening credits roll, and the title screen appears: Something Happened to Lacey and It’s All Her Sister’s Fault starring Belle and Lacey French.  Lacey dead in a ditch somewhere, or arrested and deported for drunk driving.  Lacey going home with the wrong guy, or choking on her vomit in a dark alley.  A thousand scenarios played through Belle’s head, each worse than the last, and in every one, the last thing Lacey ever heard from her sister was a complaint about a baking sheet and a criticism of an outfit.  Not “I love you.”  Not “stay safe,” or even “I’ll see you when you get home.”  Her last words to Lacey would be, “wearing that?”

Enough.  She couldn’t just lie in bed, desperately hoping for sleep, for another minute.  Tomorrow… or rather, today, because it was after three in the morning… was Saturday, the library’s busiest day.  In a perfect world, she’d be catching up on some much-needed sleep.  But that clearly wasn’t in the cards tonight.  The part of her that wasn’t currently worried sick about her twin felt a twinge of resentment.  Even when she had the night off from nursing her sister through drunkenness and the subsequent hangover, her night still wasn’t her own.  Not really.

Pacing the living room, Belle cast about for something productive to do.  The kitchen was clean, the floors freshly swept and mopped, laundry done, furniture dusted.  She resisted the temptation to peek into Lacey’s room with an effort; the last time she’d tried to do her sister a favor by folding her laundry and organizing her mail, Lacey had nearly taken her head off.  

There had to be something to do.  She was kneeling down in the kitchen to see if her pots and pans needed to be reorganized, when she noticed that the grout was looking a teensy bit gray.  It hadn’t had a proper scrubbing in… a month, probably.  Perfect.

The cold tile on her hands and knees, the smell of the cleaning product, the rhythm of the brush bristles against the grout - they didn’t soothe her, exactly, so much as give her a physical focus.  Her thoughts were too scattered to read, but this was mindless while still demanding her attention.  She gnawed at a bit of dead skin on her lower lip, teeth clicking together in time with the scrub brush.

By the time she finished scrubbing, rinsing and wiping the tile, the grout in between looked a shade or two lighter.  She nodded in satisfaction, tugging at the last piece of dead skin with her teeth.  She hissed as it came free, pulling a strip of live skin with it.  Tonguing the wound determined that it wasn’t bleeding.  

She really needed to break this habit.

At least her little chore had done its trick.  She was so exhausted she didn’t think she could stay awake another five minutes.  Just in time, too - the first gray of pre-dawn was peeking through the windows.  Collapsing into bed, Belle sent a single text out before succumbing to sleep.

Please just let me know you’re okay.

******

Lachlan cracked his eye to the morning sunlight, immediately squeezing it shut with a hiss when the light lanced through his brain.  His stomach roiled with nausea.  He swallowed hard to quell the urge to vomit.  Not a great start to the day.  It never was.

At least today he wouldn’t be suffering alone.  Last night Belle had matched him drink for drink, only leaving the bar long enough to queue up a few songs on the jukebox.  That had surprised him; he’d been under the impression that she rarely drank, if at all.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  He’d been trying - okay, not very hard, but a bit - to get his drinking under control because he thought it was what she wanted.  Now he was seeing this whole different side of her.  It was… it was something to think about.

Later.  For now, he had a naked woman in his bed, and this time he intended to enjoy waking up next to her this time, even if his head was about to split apart.  Belle hadn’t been remotely interested in cuddling after sex last night, instead preferring to roll over to sleep.  Maybe she’d be in the mood now.  

Hopefully she wouldn’t mind taking a rain check on kissing.  His mouth tasted like a distillery, and he doubted hers was much better.

A quick grope around the bed revealed only empty sheets, devoid of any warmth other than his own.  His eyes snapped open, and he bit back a pained groan as the sunlight made his head throb.  

Belle was nowhere in sight.  The only trace of her was the slight fruity scent of her shampoo clinging to his pillow.  Frowning, he gingerly sat up, breathing hard against the nausea that threatened to bubble over.  Gathering what little strength he had, he heaved himself to his feet and staggered out to the living room. 

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!”

Rage churned unpleasantly with the queasiness in his stomach, curdling together into a knot.  She fucking left!  After he’d swallowed his pride and practically begged her to talk to him - for the second time! - and spent the night buying her drinks and listening to her vent about her overbearing roommate.  After letting her crash here so she didn’t have to deal with said roommate, and having sex that felt impersonal and perfunctory compared to last Saturday.  She had the nerve to just leave without so much as a note or a text?

Fuck that.  She might not want to have a conversation with him, but she was getting just that, whether she liked it or not.  He yanked on last night’s clothes, too pissed off to root around his laundry basket for a clean outfit.  He just barely had the presence of mind to remember his sunglasses as he stomped out his apartment door.  Thankfully the day was relatively overcast.

Was this some sort of game to her?  What was the point?  Did she get some sort of rush out of this?  Did it give her an ego boost to find some useless waste, convince him that he mattered, make him fall for her, and cast him aside?  Well, she was about to find that he wouldn’t be ignored so easily.

Sheer indignation and force of will carried him down the street toward the library.  Teeth gritted against the dull throbbing in his head, he stormed toward the circulation desk, where Belle was helping a line of patrons waiting to check out books.  He cut to the front of the line without so much as glancing as anyone else.

“Lachlan, what--”

“We need tae talk,” he snarled.  “Now.”

Her eyebrows rose, unimpressed.  “Okay, first of all, don’t talk to me like that.  You may be angry with me, but I don’t deserve to be snapped at.”  She gestured behind him with a sweeping hand.  “Second, as you can see, I’m busy at the moment.  We can talk later.”

“No, fuck that!  We’re gonnae have this oot now.”  Damn it, he hated what anger did to his accent.  Now, of all times, he wanted to make sure he was damn well understood.  He gestured behind him to the same gawkers who were silently watching the two of them.  “So unless ye wannae give these tossers a show, I suggest ye find someplace private we can talk.”

The silence loomed between them as they stared at each other, her with her jaw set, him with his lips pressed in a thin line.  “Fine,” she bit out.  Then she called over her shoulder.  “Evelyn?”

The head librarian, Mrs. Campbell, emerged from her office.  “Yes, dear?” she asked in a kinder voice than he’d ever heard from the stern woman.  

Belle’s fiery blue eyes never left his.  “I need to take my lunch break a little early.  Can you take over for a bit?”

Her lips puckered a bit, but she nodded.  “Just this once,” she allowed.

“Thank you.  I really appreciate it.”  Circling around the desk, she breezed right past Lachlan, refusing to look back to make sure he followed.  Even with those impossibly high heels, she still managed to keep a pace so brisk he nearly had to trot to keep up.

She led him out of the building and around a corner, to a secluded stone bench.  She perched on one end, slipping a shoe off to rub the arch of her foot.  “Well?”  She gestured impatiently to the other end of the bench.  “You interrupt me at work when you can see I’m busy.  You snap at me and make rude demands, and then you insult my patrons right in front of their faces.  Now I’m giving up my lunch break to talk, just like you wanted.  So talk.”

“Oh, don’t do that.  Don’t act like I’m the arsehole here,” he snapped.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that.”  Her glare said that she knew exactly how she wanted to react, but chose not to.  “You’ve been angry with me all week.  What makes today so special?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”  Her confused look only set him off more.  “Last night,” he clarified.

“‘Last night?’” she echoed.  “Lachlan, I was home all night.  I didn’t call, or text, or do anything more interesting than clean my apartment.”

“Bollocks!  You were at the bar last night, playing pool.”  She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.  “Don’t bother denying it.  I saw you.  We talked.  We slept together.  So unless you’ve got a doppelgänger with the exact same accent, it was you.”

Belle paled.  Without a word, she rummaged through her purse until she found her phone, and made a call.  Her foot tapped impatiently while it rang.  Once it went to voicemail, she spoke.  He’d never heard her sound so angry.  “Lacey Rose French, I know you’re there.  You will video call me in the next five minutes or so help me, I will kick you out and find a roommate who actually pays rent.”  Then she hung up.

“Belle, what--”  

She silenced him with a raised hand.  “This is probably partially my fault,” she admitted quietly.  “I thought, maybe if you never met her, things would be different this time.”  

“Met who?  Your roommate?”  Christ, his head was not up for these hints and riddles.  “I don’t under--”

Her buzzing phone interrupted him.  Belle answered it, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice came through the speaker.  “God, Belle, what now?  Can’t a girl get some shut-eye?  I had a late night.”

“Apparently.”  She turned the phone toward Lachlan.  “Look familiar?” she asked.

Lachlan was about to tell her that she was being utterly ridiculous, when he did a double-take.  The ground seemed to fall out from under his feet, and he sank weakly to the bench.  There, on the screen of the phone in Belle’s hand, was… Belle.

There were subtle differences, he saw now.  Differences he’d been too drunk to look for.  Hadn’t even known to look for, really.  The woman on the phone - Lacey? - wore her hair straight where Belle’s was curled, and wore more eye makeup.  Her cheekbones and chin were sharper, but apart from that, they were identical.  The same blue eyes, the same pale skin and cupid’s bow mouth.

The woman in the phone winced.  “Ah, fuck.  This isn’t--”

Belle turned the phone back around.  “I’ll deal with you when I get home,” she said ominously, ending the call.

The silence loomed between them.  Lachlan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped between them.  He cast his mind back over the past few weeks, the morning’s revelation shining light on so much that had baffled him.  Her roommate was her sister.  Not a boyfriend, or a fuck-buddy.  That was why she dropped everything to pick Lacey up.  He could understand that.  He’d never done the same for Jed - one had to be sober to be a designated driver, and Lachlan could count his sober nights in Manchester on two hands - but he understood wanting to do anything for family.  

But things were different between Belle and her sister than they’d been for him and Jed, he thought with a grimace.  Lachlan had idolized his older brother, and Jed had taken Lachlan under his wing, never letting him feel left out even when his older friends didn’t want to hang out with the little kid.  Even with three years separating them, they’d been thick as thieves all their lives.  But listening to the way Belle and Lacey talked about each other, they could hardly stand to be in the same room.  

“I didn’t know you had a twin,” he finally said stupidly.

“That was the idea,” came her muffled reply.  He looked over her and saw her face buried in her hands.  After a moment she lowered them.  For the first time that morning, he really looked at her.  Without the lens of rage clouding his vision, he finally noticed just how tired she looked.  There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin lacked its usual luster.  Her face was completely blank, her eyes dull and lifeless.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Lachlan’s brow lowered in confusion.  “For what?”

“Everything.”  She sighed, her shoulders slumping on the exhale.  “For hiding Lacey from you, and getting angry when you called me on it.  For being a jerk when you just wanted an explanation.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “For leading you on.”

His heart stuttered to a halt.  She couldn’t be saying what he thought.  They were just starting to figure things out.  “What are you saying?” he asked.

“I can’t…”  She gestured vaguely.  “...do this.  Be what you want.  Be like…”  She swallowed, sniffed, chewed hard on her lower lip.  “I just don’t have it in me.”

“Belle, no.  You’re what I want.”  He reached a hand out to her.  She flinched away from him, hugging her arms around her stomach like she’d been kicked.  His hand flopped down between them.  

He didn’t know what to do; several rash impulses warred within him.  He wanted to kiss her until she got over whatever the hell was bothering her.  He wanted to shake and snarl at her for keeping secrets and letting this mess pile up between them.  He wanted to beat the ever-loving shite out of himself for not being more patient.  He wanted to chew Lacey out for… fuck it, for everything.  

And under all that, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a dark room and nurse his hangover with some of the hair of the dog that bit him.

Dimly he recognized that all of those were fucking awful ideas - immediate gratifications that solved nothing.  Story of his life, that.

With a glance at her phone, Belle stood up and dusted off the back of her skirt.  “Break’s over.  I need to go,” she mumbled.  

He didn’t know what to do.  So he let her go.