#white beaded fireplace wall

[elyxir]

Montreal Family Room Game Room Inspiration for a large transitional open concept brown floor and medium tone wood floor game room remodel with white walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[storyarcade]

Los Angeles Modern Family Room Example of a mid-sized minimalist enclosed linoleum floor family room design with white walls, a ribbon fireplace, a metal fireplace and no tv

[koisuko]

Hear me out, but how about a shy female reader who has been chosen as one of earthrealm's champions but Bihan doesn't see it due to her being short and shy, he makes a comment about it but is shocked when the reader gave a smartass response to his comment which peaks Bihan's curiosity about the reader?

Tw: none, shy reader, fem reader, no use of y/n

You lived a fairly reclusive life, hidden away in a densely forested area surrounded by high mountains. There were very few homes nearby with the nearest neighbor being 100 kilometers away. Just how you liked it, away from strangers in your cozy cabin. It was a paradise, a shy persons dream.

You sat on your brown sofa, the cushions so pillowy it nearly swallowed your petite frame. Beside you, your sole company in the isolation you live in, a small black cat. Soft purrs accompanied the crackle of the flames before you, your toes wiggling near the fireplace for warmth. A sigh left your lips, at the relaxation taking a hold. All the chores were done, you finished your reading, and you had gotten off your online job just an hour ago. You had nothing to do but relax. A hand stroked the silky black fur of your cat, the purrs a gentle lullaby. Your eyelids grew heavy, barely having the strength to fight the impending nap. Not that you wanted to, naps were your favorite thing after all.

One..two..three knocks on your front door jostled you from your drowsy state. A spike in anxiety hit, fear of who or what could be here. You never really had visitors, or many friends outside of your cat and family. There is no one you know to be visiting anytime soon, so who is it? Slowly, you approached the front door, a nervous expression on your face despite your best efforts to seem confident. Armed with nothing but your fists, you stood just inches from the wooden barrier. You knew how to fight, if it was necessary. A woman in the middle of no where needs her protection! You’d be damned if you unhooked the chain lock at the top of the door. You mustered up the courage to place a cautious hand on the door knob. Was it hot in here? You could feel the sweat begin to bead at the ridge of your brow. A sigh left your lips as the door slowly creaked open. On the other side we’re not one, but three large burly men. This is your end, isn’t it? “U-uh h-hello?” You squeaked out, earning a scoff from a man wearing blue. His face seemed molded into a permanent scowl, and his scrutinizing gaze locked on to what little of you peaked from behind the door. The first to speak, was a man with bright white eyes. “Greetings, I am Lord Liu Kang, God of fire, Protector of Earthrealm,” his voice was oddly calming, but not enough to block out the body guards beside him, “May we enter?” Enter? As if! His title seemed like something straight out of one of your novels. “M-may I ask what business you have here?” You cleared your throat, anything to rid the lump making it hard to speak. “N-no offense but..I think you have the wrong house.” Liu Kang’s bright orbs creased at the corners in a smile, “I assure you we are at the correct residents.”

Shit, you thought. A thick clump of saliva made its way down your throat, causing you to nearly choke on it. “We can talk outside, if you wish,” he added. Something about this man was…strange yet peaceful. What choice did you have? You puffed out your chest and unhooked the chain keeping these intruders outside. All within a split second, you swung the door open and readied yourself for a fight with a defensive position. Unfortunately, a pathetic squeak left your lips as soon as the door smacked the wall. The two men behind Liu Kang chuckled, one with a more lighthearted giggle, and the other a demeaning one. Liu Kang smiled once again, bowing his head respectfully. You straightened up with an awkward gulp so loud the birds outside could hear it, “I uh..sorry.” He shook his head, “it is understandable, your bravery is admirable.” That soothed your nerves just a bit, until, the man in blue spoke for the first time. “This is the chosen champion?” His lip curled into one of distaste as he eyed you down, “pathetic.” It was one thing to hate everything around you, but to insult you before seeing your skills was a whole new level. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, popping a hip out with a snarl, “you look like a mere boy with sticks for arms compared to the men I’ve fought!” He didn’t say a word, instead, he scoffed and averted his gaze elsewhere. Although, despite his initial burning expression, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking at you. It was barely noticeable, but a spark flickered just behind that ice cold exterior.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

A Christmas to Remember

Pairing: John “Bravo-6” Price x reader

Warnings: fluffy little Christmas special

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, this is based off of the ask I just got and I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here we are

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The gentle glow of Christmas lights bathed the living room in soft, colorful hues. Strings of twinkling bulbs wrapped the tree, their reflections shimmering off delicate glass ornaments. Outside, snowflakes drifted in a lazy dance, blanketing the streets in a pristine white layer. Inside, the warmth of the fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows across the walls, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon and pine. John Price stood near the mantle, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as he adjusted a small stocking labeled "Baby Price" alongside theirs. The embroidered name glimmered in the firelight, a tender touch he’d insisted on adding this year.

"John, you don't have to do all the decorating yourself," you said, leaning back on the couch with a soft sigh, your hands cradling the gentle curve of your belly. The cushions supported you comfortably, but you couldn’t help fidgeting as you watched your husband move about the room. Your voice carried a mixture of amusement and exasperation as he meticulously repositioned ornaments, his keen eye for detail refusing to leave anything out of place.

"Nonsense, love. You're supposed to be resting," he replied without looking up, his tone warm but firm. Turning to meet your gaze, he added with a mock-stern look, "Doctor’s orders, remember?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was impossible to argue with John when he went into full protective mode. His excitement for the holidays, paired with the anticipation of your baby’s arrival, had made him even more attentive than usual—if that were even possible.

You reached for the mug of cocoa he’d made earlier, savoring the rich sweetness and the faint hint of peppermint. The warmth seeped through your hands as you cradled the cup, watching him string beads of golden garland across the branches.

"Fine," you said, setting the mug down carefully. "But don’t blame me if the tree ends up looking lopsided because you refused my help."

John chuckled, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The tree, laden with ornaments collected over the years, sparkled with a charm that felt uniquely yours. "It’s not lopsided. It’s... rustic," he declared, grinning.

"Right," you teased, arching an eyebrow. "Rustic."

He strode over to you, his heavy socks muffling his steps on the polished wooden floor. Kneeling beside the couch, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, the bristles of his beard tickling your skin. "You’ll thank me when you’re not sore from bending and stretching," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hairline. "Besides, I’ve got a surprise for you."

Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity, your smile widening. "Oh?"

"Wait here," he instructed, disappearing down the hallway with purposeful strides. Moments later, he returned, cradling a small, neatly wrapped package in his calloused hands. His expression softened as he handed it to you, his excitement barely concealed.

"John, we’re supposed to exchange gifts tomorrow," you said, though your hands eagerly moved to untie the satin ribbon.

"Couldn’t wait," he admitted with a sheepish grin, settling beside you on the couch. "Go on, open it."

The paper crinkled beneath your fingers as you unwrapped the box, revealing a handcrafted wooden mobile nestled inside. Each piece was meticulously carved and painted: a bear with kind eyes, a fox mid-leap, a rabbit curled up peacefully, and a sparrow with outstretched wings. The animals hung from delicate strings, swaying gently as you lifted the mobile, the craftsmanship so intricate it took your breath away.

"John... did you make this?" you asked, your voice catching in your throat.

He nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Figured our little one deserved something special. Something personal."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you placed the mobile down carefully, turning to wrap your arms around him as much as your belly allowed. His arms came around you immediately, strong and steady, his hand resting protectively on your bump.

"It’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. "You’re perfect," he murmured. "Both of you."

The moment stretched, cocooned in the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft strains of holiday music playing in the background. The scent of the pine tree mingled with the faint aroma of cocoa, wrapping the room in warmth and serenity. Eventually, John pulled back, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his blue eyes tender and unwavering.

"Alright, your turn," you said, reaching behind the couch to pull out a gift bag. You handed it to him with a mischievous grin. "Merry Christmas."

He opened it to find a set of matching pajamas—one for him, one for you, and a tiny one for the baby. His deep laugh rumbled through the room as he held up the smallest pair, the words "Daddy’s Little Soldier" embroidered in soft script on the front.

"These are brilliant," he said, leaning in to kiss you. "We’re putting these on right now."

You laughed as he helped you to your feet, his hands steady and supportive. Together, you made your way to the bedroom, where he gently assisted you into the soft, festive fabric. Minutes later, the two of you were back on the couch, snug in your matching pajamas. The baby’s tiny pair hung on the armrest, a sweet reminder of the future awaiting you both.

As the evening wore on, the fire dwindled to glowing embers. You found yourself dozing off against John’s broad shoulder, his hand resting protectively over your belly. The Christmas tree lights cast a gentle glow across the room, their soft twinkle mirrored in the window panes. Outside, the snow continued to fall, muffling the world beyond your walls.

John’s voice was a low murmur as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Merry Christmas, love."

Half-asleep, you nuzzled closer, a contented smile on your lips. "Merry Christmas, John."

In that moment, surrounded by warmth, love, and the promise of new beginnings, you knew this Christmas was going to be one to remember.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting!-Midnight💜

[the-midnight-blooms]

THE VAMPIRE’S PARAMOUR | smg

previously titled: sanguine metal and pearl

pairing: vampire!song mingi x accusedwitch!reader AU: fantasy au word count: 5.8k warnings: violence ATEEZ as angst tropes series: Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

masterlist

Trope: Betrayal 

Thunder cracked across the sky, the rain beating down on the earth, wind hitting against the frail leaves as a hollow figure dashed across the drenched field. Her boots squelched beneath her feet as she tiredly trudged, panicking as she attempted to seek solace in the large abandoned manor on the hill. By no means did she expect it to be inhabited with as much as warmth, but anything was better than the coarse battering of the rain provoking her skin. Her pale fingers squeezed against the slash penetrated across her abdomen-blood oozing out of the wound like a scarlet river. Beads of sweat formed on her upper brow; heavy pants silenced by the harsh winds. At last, she reached the cobbled roads no longer restrained by the depth of the muddy grass, sprinting down the path. Out of sheer habit, her fists pounded loudly against the wooden door, rapping at the knocker not long before she jerked the door handle. Her body pushed into the foyer, hastily parrying the biting winds the loud slam venerating the hallways.

A quiet sigh escaped from her lips; her eyes fluttered shut relishing the warmth of the atmosphere that eased the tension in her muscles. Despite this, she had lost too much blood. Her dress, her hands all soaked red- the objects in her line of sight all bleeding together. With an agonising wheeze she dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, her mind racing at a million miles per minute.

I could die like this I suppose, at least it’s warm.

A sudden of rush of emotions overcame her, fatigue moulding into sadness as she recollected how she got there. Where a storm now brewing outside the bow windows, the translucent glass blocked some of the light that spilt into the dark foyer- when she came home a few hours ago, the air was soft smelling of the sweet musk of honeydew and freshly cut lawn. The sun was nowhere to be seen, but the white clouds hung in the sky. Painful coughs trickled up her throat, blood dribbling from her lips onto the wooden floorboards her head clouded by the pain- at once tearing her away from the pastoral fantasy. Mind rocking back and forth, stumbling on the thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Through the slits of her shutting eyes, she sought a tall, dark figure looming over her- her body elevating from the ground. Perhaps it was the Grim Reaper taking mercy on her, ready to return to her parents’ side. For his ominous eyes bored into her own, her soul magnetised by its enigma.

Death is a beautiful man.

Peering through the windows of his warm study, the fireplace was lit the embers spitting as the flames oscillated beneath the cracked marble. Rain shot down from the sky, hammering against the porcelain tiles, infiltrating down the drain leading to the gutter as he sought a figure staggering down his pavement.

‘Manyeo’ he heard the servants whisper through the kitchen walls of his almost desolate home. Witch. But there could be no such creature. Not when he had lived through centuries, rendered an immortal being by mortals who distinguished the same face being transplanted down through generations. Just how strong was his family’s genetics really? He respected her resilience, despite the pain boiling within her human flesh she made her way to the door of his home. Mingi ripped himself away from the window, stalking out of his room.

The hallways were much larger than one would anticipate, not all them were covered with wallpaper, but the walls were particularly dark basking his view. They were littered with more candelabras, elegantly carved Greek statues, brushed with a few cobwebs indicating its age and neglect. Paintings embraced the lurid walls, particularly renaissance paintings of the past including many figures rendered to thoughtful positions encrusted in pale browns, reds, soft creams and light blues blending together to create an image of classism. After descending down the staircase, he reached the foyer a feminine figure draped across the floorboards her scarlet red blood blessing the ground beneath her. Slipping his slender fingers around her body, he encased her fragility within his strong grasp holding her close to his chest.

Sunlight streamed in through the crevices of the white chiffon curtain, whirling with the warm breeze that emptied into the large room. With the air brushing at her soft skin, her eyes fluttered open staring at the canopy ceiling above her. A distressing grunt left her as she adjusted her position- sitting up back pressed against the headboard. Instinctively, her hands reached towards where the stab wound was, lifting the hem of the cotton white dress to reveal a roll of bandages securely wrapped the whole way around her stomach. Someone had stitched her up. With furrowed eyebrows, her eyes travelled the breadth of the room. The walls were plastered in ivory green wallpaper, detailed with golden floral patterns. Beside her was a small nightstand, above was an unlit brass candelabra, burgundy red leather-bound books with ochre spines. The canopy bed was draped with white netting, the plush cream bed covers softening her stiff limbs inviting her back to sleep. Persisting against her tiredness, she crawled out of the bed- chilliness shooting up her as her feet dipped onto the floorboards.

Above the dressing table held a large mirror, reflecting her thinning figure lacking the liveliness that it used to have, dark circles embodying her youthful eyes. A crisp card note embedded with dark ink, folded in half grabbed her attention.

Miss Min,

I hope you are feeling much better after a long bed rest. If you feel yourself able, I would like to request for you to dine with me tonight. Please help yourself to any of the dresses in the wardrobe, see it as your own for the duration of your stay here at Song’s Manor.

I shall hope to see you soon,

Your saviour.

Who was this man? How did he know her name? Was the manor not supposed to be empty? The townspeople claimed so, yet they weren’t the brightest or trusting of people. She was still, yet, naïve for believing their words despite all their dishonest allegations. A witch. Out of all the things they deemed her, for being an academically inclined woman at that. With her mother passing early on her childhood, her father, a scholar, was left to take care of her upbringing. What could a man teach her about the ways of the household and domesticity? So, naturally, he taught her all that he knew which was the art mathematics and science. She spent the most of her adolescence cooped up on the brown leather chair analysing diagrams from scientific journals; helping her father with his research by transcribing his words and knowledge as his health dwindled. After his own passing, she was left to survive for herself and with the uprise of paranormal activity in her town- the people pointed a finger towards the scholarly woman. For when people are afraid, they point towards the most estranged person they know.

Dressed in a floor length black dress, black lace netted over the cotton fabric- large bell sleeves covered her thin arms. The dress accentuated her figure in all the right places, addressing the curves of her body that she had not noticed up until now. Her long hair was clipped back by a silver claw clip- she felt everything on her body was too rich to belong there. It was hard to believe that this was one of the simplest dresses amongst the ball gowns hung in the old chestnut wardrobe. Her hands had rifted through reams of silk, satin, chiffon, mesh, cotton of a consistent maroon red, creams, ivory white and black colour palette. There was the occasional green and blue, but the colours so deep it felt like delving into the depths of an uncharted sea.

A small knock venerated through the room, the wooden door creaking open as a timid pair of eyes peeked into the room, the maid slipped in straightening her posture.

“Count Song requests your presence in the dining room, Miss Min.” She felt astounded by the endearment- despite her father being an astute scholar she was never held on a pedestal among others, she was simply one head in a crowd of masses. Miss Min followed after the maid, every step feeling like she was treading on sharp glass, the skim of the substance penetrating her-dreading the cauterise of a thousand hot blades on her skin. Her mind rinsed with the memory of him piercing his knife through her abdomen, every time she closed her eyes-even if it was just to blink- she relived that moment over and over.

The maid had led her into the dining room. The oak dining table stretched over the length of the whole room, patterned with black leather chairs which in itself was probably worth more than her whole home. The dining room was painted scarlet red, and much like the rest of the home, the walls were encased with grand paintings which she had only seen in books. At the top of the table stood a tall man, clad in black velvet. With his sharp jawline and narrow eyes, he feigned an intimidating impression, the shadows loomed ominously in his presence leaping of his slender body as if ready to latch and destroy anything in its path. He drifted forward, as if being carried by the shadows that substantiated him. He could only be the infamous Count Song, owner of the manor she once perceived as deserted.

“Miss Min. How do you feel?" he questioned, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"I'm fine, thank you so much for your hospitality, Count Song." She claimed, ignoring the frequent pangs of pain that seared through her. Her vision blurred ever so slightly-the defined features of his blending together, yet still creating a perfect picture at that.

"There's no need for formalities, you can call me Mingi." He introduced. At once, the suggestive smirk moulded into a warm smile revealing the dimples that adorned his pale cheeks. Her lips formed his name; to soundlessly masticate the vowels on her tongue- it tasted so natural to her. "Come, you must be hungry." He led her to the top of the dining table, adjacent to where his own seat was, pulling it out in a gentlemanly manner. A blush crept on her cheeks as she sat down. A mere minute later, servants compiled into the room, an array of dishes covering the vast half of the large table. Her widened eyes instilled a chuckle from Mingi, he watched with adoration.

Miss Min was a beauty, a sight to behold. All the light in the room revered her, shining towards her figure ever so specifically- so much that you would think she was the beacon herself. The black dress hugged her figure so perfectly, he wanted nothing more than to snake his hand around her waist and pull her closer to him. The smell of her blood so divine, it was driving him insane. He bit his lip, hands balling up into fists as if to hold himself back from digging his teeth into the curve of her gleaming neck. Once the servants had fled from the room, he reached forward to cover her plate with a bit of each dish served before them.

"Mingi-," he silenced her with a hard stare.

"Hush now, you need as much food as you can get. How would you get better otherwise?" This sudden solidarity had startled her, no less. When was the last time someone had given her this much attention? She became so used to fending for herself, that help of others was so foreign to her. Perhaps this was all temporary and Mingi was seeking something from her in return of his services.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you know my name?" she questioned, as soon as he compiled a few dishes onto his own plate-reaching for the fork. He stopped, slipping his hand inside his suit jacket, pulling out a black book with her name engraved on the front.

"This was in your cloak." Cloak, a word that disgusted her. Almost made it seem like she was a real witch. He settled the book down next to him- tentatively, she grabbed it, flicking through the pages to see if any of the loose sheets she'd placed in there had fallen out. The chances were that they had when she was making her way up the hill. “Took me a while to get my head around that satanic scripture.” He joked, raising the wine glass to his lips. Her head snapped toward him. Cloak. Satanic scripture. What did he know and what was he trying to imply?

My, my, Miss Min. You are sharp.

Mingi held her confounded stare for a few moments before gesticulating for her to eat the food he’d so kindly put on her plate.

“What are you trying to imply, Mr Song?” She challenged, there was no point beating around the bush. If he, as so much thought that she was one of the devils men- then she was treading in the enemy’s territory. She deduced the secretive airs around him, the way he paused before speaking choosing his words carefully.

“I might not get out of the house much but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my eyes and ears everywhere. Did you not think for a second I wouldn’t question why there’s a woman bleeding out to death on my doorstep?”

“If you were wondering so, then you didn’t need to invite me to eat with you. You could’ve asked me the second I woke up and I would have told you.”

“Oh I know you would have, Miss Min. But what kind of man would I be, if I didn’t put food before a starving woman? So, eat your food and if you don’t like it then I can get you something else.” He instructed, salient eyes burned into her own, tearing her stare away she stuck the fork into plate- engulfing her meal hungrily, but in a civilised enough manner that the man beside her didn’t think she was an animal. They ate their food in tense silence, Miss Min still eager to galvanise answers out of him. Mingi scoured through the depths of her mind finding nothing that wasn’t already new to him. Just a young soul brimming with beauty and inquisition. At the end of the night. Mingi escorted her back to her quarters-the pair loitering outside of her door. Mingi, unable to leave until he knew she had gone into the room, and herself thinking of something-anything- that would eradicate the taut atmosphere. She pushed her door open, thanking her saviour for his hospitality. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, than something. Deep down she felt that he would not leave her questions unanswered. Regardless, whatever it was that he was hiding from her- she took it upon herself to find out. One way or another.

A gold, rusted candelabra rested in her palms as she sauntered through the desolate hallways. It had been a while since their last encounter; Mingi's latency around the manor was absent. She tried to pry the maids for information in lieu of her nosiness but they all dismissed her inquisitiveness, instead doting over her lecturing her to rest and take care of herself. A sense of pain still provoked her bearings despite all this rest she was advised to take, deciding the best cure to her apathy was to give herself that tour that Mingi did not give her. Avoiding the steps that descended to the ground floor, she took the staircase leading the the upper floor hands gliding up the railing to secure some stability, she still felt her head rocking from side to side- heavy pants fleeting from her aching lungs as she wandered to the upper floor. The second floor stretched out into a long hallway, around six black, wooden doors all equidistant from each other. To her dismay, three out of six were locked and two were simply storage rooms holding boxes of trinkets, dusty furniture, a grand piano, cello; some other boxes contained velvet curtains, bed spreads and just other menial household items. Reaching for the copper doorknob, she twisted the handle pushing it open to reveal another set of staircases that led further up the building. From the outside, the manor looked to only have two floors, the high ceilings feigning an impression of many more. Shutting the door behind to preserve the warmth, she glided up the staircase, nudging through yet another door before entering a large space. The light from the flame flooded into the room, this room was much more fastidious than the rooms below with white sheets draped over the furniture; carefully arranged in parallel rows either side of the room. Amongst the walls held portraits, an array of people all dressed in the clothing that was deemed fashionable of its time. They were all encrusted in deep reds, velvety purples, pearl necklaces wrapped around their necks. A certain figure on the walls, drew her, his face similar to that of Mingi's. There seemed to be several that masked his features, all dressed differently-as if his face was a family heirloom surpassing generations.

Her eyes latched onto a book perched on top of one of the tables, a thick layer of dust coated on the front cover. Reaching for the book, she wiped away the dust with the sleeve of her arm, erupting into a fit of coughs as the particles entered her nose. Through the little light, her eyes barely made out the writing engraved across the front.

‘Mr and Mrs Song’

“What are you doing up here?” His deep voice bellowed into the attic, startling her. "What's that in your hand?" Clutching the book to her chest, Mingi grabbed at the candle holding it towards his face, his dark eyes glared at her a look of question fulfilling his features.

"It's mine." she blurted, he raised an eyebrow-almost amused by her proclamation. She cleared her throat, looking down at her feet in embarrassment. "I mean...I got it from the library. I also got a little bored. So I thought I'd explore." The cold look on his face softened, as he watched her stumble a little, leaning on the table for support.

"You're still in pain, you could have explored the castle later. Or asked me.” He offered.

“I’m beginning to think you’re nocturnal, Count. It’s actually appalling to see you’re gallivanting through your own hallways in the early evening.” Mingi shook his head whilst rolling his eyes.

“Maybe you’ve just been missing me.” A playful smirk held up on his sweet lips. She wanted to reach out and touch them, hold her fingers on his lips for a while. See what it would feel like to have his skin pressed against hers. The thought itself astounded her. His beauty was certainly a thing to behold but where had she conjured such thought from? “Come with me, Miss Min. We’ll gallivant through our hallways together,” His outstretched hand gesticulated for her to join him. They sauntered down the corridor, the book pressed against her chest. A maid rushed over to them, panting heavily.

"There is a man demanding to see you master. He goes by the name of Choi San." Her blood ran cold, limbs paralysed as the name reverberated at her core. Choi San, the town's exorcist had been the one to spread the word of her 'witchcraft', he had also been the one to plunge his 'holy' dagger into her stomach. Mingi stalked towards the entrance, the maid scuttling back to her duties. Hesitantly, she followed after him descending the steps. Listening carefully, she heard San introduce himself listing his many revered titles. 'Priest, Merchant, Scholar'. Yet it didn't take a genius to figure out that San was no god-fearing man and cleverly manipulated the townspeople's naivety to create his own rules and have them bending to his will. If anything, he thought he was God's greatest gift on earth.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me." Looking up at the top of the stairs, he shot her a devious smile. "Why don't you come down for me, dear?" Her body trembled, moving further down the steps. Hiding behind Mingi’s towering figure, his hand settled on her waist behind his back. San, unimpressed, mockingly cocked his head to the side like a drunken father playing hide and seek with his fearful child.

“This is my wife, you are talking to Mr Choi. Maybe you should reconsider your position whilst you are stood in my house threatening my wife and by extension, me.” Wife? Her heart fluttered, indecently, as Mingi’s grip on her waist tightened. Leaning her head against his back, her eyes shut tightly.

“Very well Count Song, I was unaware of this arrangement. I suggest you tame her. A woman like her does not belong here. This is not the last you'll see of me.” San spat through clenched teeth sending her one last sinister look before departing from the manor. Before Mingi could step forward to argue, she tugged at his arm. A breath of relief of escaped her lips, Mingi turned around to envelop her within his embrace- sinking her head into his chest the warmth from his body soothing her.

“It’s ok, nobody can hurt you now.” Her head piqued up, a grateful smile dancing upon her lips.

“Wife?” She teased, Mingi shrugged- a guilty look forming on his face.

“I didn’t know what else to say. It’s final- you’re staying here now Miss Min, whether you like it or not.” A few days later, Mingi had summoned her to his study. She kicked the album underneath the bed the canopy bed that same day-only to find it missing when she returned to find it. Did he take it? What was in that album that he did not want her to see, aside from the possible fact that she was prying around in his home-looking for answers he would not give her. “You marry me, Miss Min and you’ll have my protection. No man can ever lay his hands on you.” Her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the sheet.

“What’s the catch? What do you get out of this arrangement?” He looked slightly taken aback by her inquest, but which man would willingly spend the rest of his life with her? Mingi frowned a little as he read her thoughts.

“I get the pleasure of your company. Not that in that way, of course.” He quickly clarified, a blush creeping upon his cheeks. How cute. “I promise I won’t keep you bored, you’ll have my undivided attention.” She contemplated the thought. It was clear that she couldn’t go back to her home, her seclusion would only provoke San to go after her again and she couldn’t have that. On the other hand, she barely knew Mingi. How much could she really trust him? Then again, how much choice was she left with?

I guess we’ll find out.

The ink spilled out from the nib, her signature sprawled across the page. How bad could it be to be tied to Song Mingi for eternity?

Oh you little lamb, you have no idea of the being I am.

After the establishment of their matrimony, the pair had become a lot more distant than that was usual of a married couple. Miss Min felt it in her to be the wife that her mother was for her father, but did not know how. Mingi felt it in him to be more affectionate or available but his nocturnal nature prevented him from doing so. The servants had prevented her from entering Mingi's quarters, especially during the day. A pang shot through her at the thought that maybe he was with another woman. Her speculative nature had been suddenly inhibited, every time she thought about Mingi's disappearance during the day- the notions were vanquished substituted with the lies he fed her spinning in her mind like mantra chanted by a camaraderie of soldiers. With the days becoming shorter and nights longer, his presence pervaded the household more often- summoning his wife to his study to drink tea together.

“What is it that you do?” Mingi looked up from his book, as wide-eyed Miss Min settled down her porcelain tea cup. “I mean, what keeps you so busy and away from me?” She thought out loud. Frequent he felt his vampiric essence was a curse. He wanted to be close to her, without feeling the urge to sink his teeth into her neck. He wanted to hold her in the light of the day, in ways he believed she should be held.

“The boring stuff, like tax collecting, administrative duties, trade. All the stuff that everyone dislikes." Particularly her father. He would always have the tax collectors at their door, every month because he was too invested in his work-he'd forget about his taxes.

"That does sound incredibly dull." Her heart fluttered again at his intoxicating smile. "Does that mean you're somewhat good at maths?" Mingi snorted. Whilst he had been occasionally praised on his academics (a thousand years back when he played the role of a gentry scholar), he knew he didn't hold the admiration for it as much as she did. It was small moments like these which bridged the distance between the two. The tea in his office during the late afternoon had become a ritual for the pair.

One night Mingi was fixated upon writing his report to his superior, when a servant scuttled in.

"Mr Choi has requested to see you again, Master." Placing down his ink nibbed pen, Mingi let out deep sigh permitting the priest to enter his study. A broad-shouldered man strolled into the room, face wrought with wickedness.

"Can I help you, Mr Choi?"

"It's Father Choi, Count Song. I shall hope god forgives you for your disrespect." Mingi bit his tongue, impatience seething through him as he echoed San's devious stare. "It's rather, I can help you. It has come to my attention that there have been reported cases of paranormal activity around the manor." The vampire snickered, knowing it was better to stay relaxed. Throughout his lifetime, he'd been accused of immortality, the matter resolved dubiously.

"Is that so, Father-" San held out his hand, silencing the vampire. Mingi wanted nothing more than to grapple his hands around the man's neck.

"There's no hiding from me. I know you're a vampire Song." Each word felt like taunt, an attempt to instil a sense of action from Mingi that would only prove San's 'allegation' against him. "And I have the cure you've been looking for."

Mrs Song, sped down the hallway to her husband's office. Eyebrows furrowed as she noticed San being escorted out by a maid, attired in the typical black silk gown suited for his position. Staggering to the door, she swooped into the office-ignoring Mingi's dazed look and the formalities.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about him. Come over here.” Gently, he pulled her into his laps. Slightly irked by his dismissal, she leant into his touch, fingers circulating through his hair. For a moment, her mind went cloudy, envisioning a blur of a figure transcending down the hallway next to a servant, the throbbing sensation in her temple deepened. Maybe it was just a group of maids making their way to their quarters. “Darling Miss Min, the treasurer of my heart, please would you do me the honour of accompanying me in the rose garden?” Playfully, she hummed pretending to be contemplative.

“Darling Mr Song, it would be my honour to accompany you in the rose gardens. Though it's too dark out, how would we see anything?"

"Never mind that, I find that thing's are much more peaceful in the night than during the day."

"Let's just stay here like this." Slumping down a little, she curled up into a ball resting her head against his chest, eyes closed as a shot of pain seethed through her. Her rationality was decomposing, and she hated every moment of it.

All she could think about was Mingi. All she wanted was Mingi. To feel the strong hold of his arms around her forever, to feel the brush of his lips against her skin, forever. Is this what it felt like to love? To adore? Goodness, she used to chastise such emotion primarily because she had felt the predatory gaze of men her whole life but when Mingi looked at her, it was if she embodied of the moon itself. For he, a dead being, felt his heart beat again at the mere sight of her. There was something so pure and domestic about the fact she was wrapped up in his arms, falling asleep to his whispers.

As she had promised Mingi, she accompanied him through his luscious rose gardens- an abundance of deep red roses enamouring the air. Her husband was correct, there was a beauty to the night relinquishing all of the fears that one associated to it. The moon hung serenely in the night, scintillating down at her husband. With the twisting of his stare, she snapped her head back toward the roses. Suddenly, the rain began to heavily beat down, the wind nipping at their skin. Encompassing her smaller hand into his, he dragged her back into the manor. A heavy thud emulated, as he tightly fixed the door. The pair exhaled synchronously, before he led her back to her room. With the candles already the lit, the heat juxtaposed from the chaos of the weather relaxing her muscles.

Mingi stared down at her, enraptured in her beauty. He could not help himself as he glazed his fingers over her skin. Erratic breaths infiltrated the air, leaning closer and closer to each other.

"I need you in all the ways holy and sinful, my dear. I want you as mine, eternally." I love you.

“I’m yours.” She breathed out, lulled by the intensity of their emotions. That was all it took for him to break. His touch eradicated the symphony of aches seething within her bones, the taste of him like opium reaching back for more and more. She could not get enough of him, and him her. Everything about the way the ardour flooded through them that night was divine and if it was all just a passionate dream she didn’t want to wake up. She could spend the rest of eternity stuck within this dream and she wouldn’t complain.

“If I asked you to follow me, without telling you where I was going, would you come with me?” He asked her one evening, tangled in each other’s arms in her room. Her finger drew down the bridge of his nose, over the curvature of his pink, plump lips.

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.” She announced. I'd follow you anyway for I am your devoted slave. His dimpled smile and siren eyes, pulled her off her bed taking her to the opposite ends of the manor. As they approached deeper into what seemed to be Mingi’s quarters- it became much more colder. The windows were obscured by thick black velvet, hallways narrower and not a single candelabra in sight to guide them. Yet Mingi seemed to know where they were going, she followed him aimlessly as cattle did to a shepherd.

They glided up a set of staircases, his arms around her waist as glimpsing through the window overlooking the vast lawn. The night was beginning to settle in, the lights from the village evaporating. Resting his chin on her head, he nestled his face into her hair- pressing his lips to the top of it.

A sharp pain protruded through her lower back, an agonising scream terrorising the hallways. Her knees weak from the pain- it was as if she was being mauled by horses on a race track, their strong legs thumping against her skin. Tormenting sobs illustrated the air, her body sliding down his back- Mingi sinking to the ground with her.

"Oh don't cry my blossom, please."

"How can I not? When you've hurt me. All this time you were just the devil in disguise." Choking on her cries, begging to the Lord to cease her pain.

"I'm not the devil, I am so much worse. For I spoke to him and he begged me not to hurt you. How does even a fallen angel sink to his knees before me?" Tears slid down his cheeks. She had never seen a statue cry before. He had corrupted her so much-even through the incessant pain she wanted to reach out and kiss away his tears.

"Why?" she managed to croak out. Letting out a gasp, his grip on her tightened as he slid out the dagger.

"It's just my nature. I needed you to bring me back to life. You were my key to mortality" He closed his eyes, her body wracking with sobs. San’s words ringing in his head. You have to make a sacrifice, kill the one you love the most in exchange for the gift of mortality. And he had become so deranged with living a thousand years, falling in love with her in each century only to have her taken away from him. Though he had stopped her several times from looking through the album. The truth was that Miss Min’s face lived as long and true as his own. A curse had set upon him when he had first become a vampire, that his lover would be given and torn away from him until the end of time. He just had to kill her this one time to break the cycle, her blood on his hands- the only cure ready to free him from his hellish state of mind.

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you. But it’s the things we love the most that are the ones we can’t have. My heart beats to your name. You brought me back to life.” A sudden roar flooded up the hill, the dissonance hitching a breath in her throat.

“You lied to me Song Mingi.” Her shaking hand, attempted to crawl backwards away from him, but with no strength left in her bones- she slipped against the stairs. He took everything from her, all her love, all her purity, all her sanity- moulding it into something that became utilitarian for him. You said nobody could hurt me. You wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on me. “If I were to be ever reborn, I ask of the heavens to keep me away from you- for being in love with you was the greatest curse that has been bestowed upon me.” In the finality of her receding breaths, her body warped against the staircase- her soul gone with the howl of the wind.

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

‘min’ meaning wisdom

A/N: It honestly feels like such a relief having published this. Mingi I love you so much but why did you give me this much grief? also, i didn’t intend to kill so many people off but i cant hold back i guess 🫣 i hope you guys liked vampire mingi <33

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

[dia-tribe]

Okayy this is the first and probably only heathen post I'll put on this blog (maybe ill start a sideblog idk yet) but i got management approval to post this.

Here's the altar i have set up for Ullr! It's been a few years in the making but after half a year ? of putting some genuine dedication in it's finally Real Good. It'll continue to grow and change but it's become a nice little centerpiece for my worship + practice. Warm feelings and heightened communication all around.

There's really not a lot of information about Ullr's likes and associations the way there is with the gods who Haven't been mostly lost to time but the act of discovering what those things are is very fulfilling.

Component deets under the readmore if ur into that mwah i hope everyone is using this weekend to find some stillness and rest.

Shelf is on the north wall, handmade out of planks from shelves that were in my great grandparent's cellar and apple logs (not visible). I've got one of those under-shelf baskets for my journal and tarot deck + some utilitarian bits.

Altar cloth is a rabbit hide that i've had for Years, topped with:

Mule deer skull with gemstones balanced on top

Hanging from the antlers is my pendulum, deer knucklebone necklace, some meditation beads i'm working on, and dried oranges.

muley antler points

abalone shell for open-practice plant burning (i'm incredibly partial to artemesia tridentata) I don't. actually know for sure that abalone for sure isn't closed practice but i'm not using the S word or burning endangered plants so i'm hoping that it's not that big of a deal

More stones (lots of carnelian, rocks with "snow" in the name, stones that have been or could be knapped into arrowheads)

Bits of copper and brass. Copper rings, penny runeset, brass leaf.

Bella Sara 2nd series card. Yasmin "Retreat and gather new energy for taking steps on the road". I understand if this seems like a weird addition but he spent a full day sending me sign after sign to allow myself to rest & then i tore through 2 full besa booster boxes and knew what I had to do

Altar bowl. He asked specifically for the seeds that i'm planting in my garden this year. They'll be pulled back out when it's time to plant but it works out fine because everything in this bowl ends up in the garden eventually. I always drop pennies that i find or get as change in here (these don't get buried) and I've found that he likes food that would be good for outdoorsy trips. Granola bars, jerky, hard candy, crackers. High protein or nourishing foods that can be thrown into a pack and snacked on while traversing.

Goblet in the back has more seeds

Incense dish. Small thrifted bread pan filled with salt to hold the incense, doubles as a black salt generator.

Candle with ihwaz. Red and green are favorites but white will also work.

Shot glass filled with incenses he likes so I don't have to keep the boxes out.

Runestones. Purchased black tourmaline set, set made of clay I purified from my backyard and fired in my fireplace, and a yet-to-be-made set (a pile of small, flat stones that I've been slowly collecting over the months. I live in a mountain region so there are some cool ones and I'm excited for this set. It'll probably be attuned to the landvaettir (the mountains and their children) but Ullr is watching over them for now.

Another goblet for liquid offerings

Brass bell

Yew branches! I picked these up last night and ouioguh it's about time. I'll get new ones when the berries are ripe and dry them really well so they'll last.

On the wall is a piece of glass are I made at the glass museum :) representative of yew and its berries. I'm gonna move this down so it's closer to the candle + lights up better. I had a taller candle when I put it up so it's a little high for this one.

The other side of the shelf is my partner's altar to Arawn (welsh god of the wild hunt). He also has a skull (whitetail). Typical couple who worships hunting gods.

That's it!! thanks for lettin me give you tha tour i hope you enjoyed it

[saltuary]

Something was different. To his loyal brothers in arms and his adoring subjects, the prince may look like always, but nothing escaped a sharp half-elven eye.

There. On Faramir's head, a new white hair. It had not been here the last time Elrond had visited, only one moon ago. It taunted him. The rays of the sun kept getting caught on it, a shining beacon that drew his attention.

Millennia of diplomatic duty had thaught Elrond how to school his features into an expression that did not reveal what stirred beneath and so he concealed his shock and dismay - hopefully sufficiently.

Rationally, Elrond knew that they would still have plenty of wonderful years together, and judging by Faramir's heritage, he would be a long-lived Man compared to others.

But to be faced with such a rude reminder of the inevitable and the passage of time, no matter how slow and miniscule..

It was too easy to fall into the trap of already bleeding for a future that had yet to come. Elrond wished not to have a heart too heavy to be in the moment and wanted to spoil his beloved while he still could. There would be more than enough time for grief later.

What mattered was now.

Elrond was especially tender with his prince that evening, putting his nimble fingers, which knew many kinds of relaxing techniques, to good use by massaging Faramir's shoulders and back, until his was boneless and dozing off to the flickering light of the fireplace.

Then he trailed countless kisses over Faramir's skin, taking time to map out his body like the constellation of stars in the sky.

Faramir felt a pull beneath his breastbone – that secret ache which visited him when the wind came from the north, or when dusk bathed the fields in a certain, sorrowful light. It returned now, not unwelcome, only familiar. As though he had always carried within him the shadow of something beautiful and transient.

He thought of his wolfhounds, his lean, grey, long-limbed companions. He thought of how brief their years were beside his own, how he was the centre of their world, as fixed and bright as the sun. How his life would become a rosary of goodbyes, each bead shaped like a velvet-muzzled, loyal friend. A chain of love, loss and soft-footed ghosts.

He thought of the inevitability of farewells.

The inevitability of grief.

Elrond returned as he always did, moving through the halls like a dream witnessed with waking eyes. There was celebration in Faramir’s heart whenever his beloved was near. When they shared not merely the same sky, the same stars, but the same roof, the same bed, the same breath.

Still, he felt it. A subtle shift in Elrond, as though the threads of his immortal heart strained in silence. A lingering. Faramir felt the heat of that attention like a brand pressed softly to his crown – and although Elrond’s face betrayed nothing, the silence between them was fond but thick with meaning. It was a silence that sang.

That evening, the fire cast long shadows on the walls, and the bedchamber seemed to breathe with the heat. Elrond’s touch was a prayer made tangible, each devoted, adoring press of his fingers a mercy upon sinew and scar. Faramir melted under his hands, shedding his mail of worry, his cuirass of flurried thought. Inch by inch, he let himself be undone, until only sensation remained, until his body lay heavy in the moment. His heart – that too-large vessel – brimmed, full in the way it only ever was when Elrond’s form lay beside his own.

The Elf-lord’s mouth followed the path his hands had traced, with a quiet desperation. He kissed the rise of Faramir’s shoulder as if it were sacred, his lips lingering at the hollow of his throat. Faramir – mortal, doomed to fade – gave himself over to that worship without shame.

“Your hands – ” he murmured, voice drowsy and soft, unguarded and tender. All else was breath and heat and murmurings of love.

Still, beneath the pleasure, the ache endured. Not in the limbs, but deeper, in the roots where the soul dwelt. He did not ask Elrond what troubled him, nor did he name the sorrow he saw shining like frost behind those ageless eyes.

As Elrond gathered him closer, arms circled around him, Faramir felt it – the fragility beneath the strength, the terrible, trembling knowledge that all seasons end, the realisation that love was a candle cupped against the tempest.

He reached up, half claimed by sleep, to touch Elrond’s cheek.

“I am still here,” he whispered.

[the--highlanders]

🌹 <3

Beads of light sprang across Jamie's vision, spilling out from the bright centre of the light set into the ceiling. Most lights in the TARDIS were white, cold and clinical - but this one was golden, pulsing softly every once in a while, like it drew its power from a candle rather than a bulb. The fireplace flickering beside him added its own orange tint, casting shades of brown over the heather-green carpet. For all his eccentricities, all the time he spent clattering around laboratories or building sand-castles or wandering onto spaceships - Jamie had never been able to shake the sense that the Doctor was a gentleman. Some sort of laird, just without the land and the tacksman and the tenants. He would scoff and turn his nose up at the rich and vain and powerful, for sure, but his study wouldn't have been too out of place in a big house from Jamie's time. It might have been stuffed full of alien samples and gadgets Jamie couldn't have figured out in a million years, but so much of it was familiar. The panelled walls and the ornate armchairs and the fine wooden desk. Strangest of all was the fact that Jamie /liked/ it. He could have been anywhere, after all. The TARDIS was nearly infinite. But here he was, lying on his back on the plush carpet, fighting to keep his eyes open against the light. Of course, it helped that the Doctor was in here, too.

a bit of the soulmate au I'm working on for you!! (sooo close to having this one done actually..... I only have two more sections to write)

but also this was just. me having fun with describing the doctor's study. my image of it has always been super influenced by the doctor who adventure game, of all things (does anyone else remember that hdjkhgkf). but I really like the idea of the doctor having a very vintage-y study, like this little warm cosy refuge from the futuristic parts of the tardis.

and I /do/ think they present themselves as a gentleman, no matter how much they might dislike the association!! the privilege and superiority complex of the time lords is super interesting to me, especially in relation to two as he's just starting to learn to break away from that. & I think it's interesting in terms of jamie as well, as he'd be well-placed to both identify it and see the irony in it. it's sort of another aspect of him keeping two in check and influencing the morality/sense of self that he'll carry forward into future incarnations.

wip ask game!

[angiehomeoffice]

How to Choose the Right Photo Frame for Your Home

A photo frame is more than just a way to display memories—it’s an essential home decor element that adds personality, warmth, and style to any space. Choosing the right photo frame for your home can elevate your interior design and showcase your cherished moments in the best way possible.

Here’s a complete guide on selecting the perfect photo frame that complements your home’s aesthetics.

1. Consider the Frame Material

Photo frames come in a variety of materials, each offering a different look and feel:

🪵 Wooden Frames – Classic and versatile, ideal for both modern and traditional homes. 🖤 Metal Frames – Sleek and contemporary, perfect for minimalistic or industrial-style interiors. 🏺 Glass & Acrylic Frames – Elegant and sophisticated, great for creating a floating effect on walls. 🖼 Decorative Frames – Embellished with beads, carvings, or textures, ideal for vintage or luxurious aesthetics.

👉 Explore Stylish Photo Frames for Your Home

2. Choose the Right Frame Size

The size of your photo frame should match both your photo dimensions and the space where it will be displayed.

📏 Small Frames (4x6 or 5x7 inches) – Ideal for bedside tables, shelves, and desks. 🖼 Medium Frames (8x10 or 11x14 inches) – Great for standalone display or gallery walls. 🖼 Large Frames (16x20 inches or bigger) – Perfect for statement pieces on living room walls. 📸 Collage Frames – Combine multiple pictures in one frame for a creative and artistic look.

If you're creating a gallery wall, mix different sizes for an eye-catching arrangement.

👉 Find the Perfect-Sized Photo Frames Here

3. Match the Frame with Your Home Decor

To achieve a cohesive look, your photo frame should complement your existing home decor.

🏡 For Modern & Minimalist Homes – Opt for sleek black, white, or metallic frames with clean lines. 🌿 For Rustic or Bohemian Styles – Choose distressed wooden or handmade frames with natural textures. 🎨 For Vibrant & Eclectic Spaces – Go for colorful, patterned, or artistic frames that stand out. 👑 For Luxury Interiors – Ornate gold, silver, or crystal-studded frames can add a regal touch.

👉 Browse Frames That Match Your Home’s Style

4. Choose the Right Placement

Where you place your photo frames affects the overall impact of your decor.

🛏 Bedroom – Place family photos or personal moments on nightstands or dressers. 🛋 Living Room – Create a gallery wall above the sofa or fireplace for a stunning display. �� Dining Area – Frame travel or food memories to enhance the cozy dining experience. 🏡 Hallways & Staircases – Use a mix of frames to tell a visual story of your journey.

👉 Get Inspired by the Best Photo Frame Placements

5. Experiment with Frame Layouts

There are different ways to display photo frames creatively:

🔲 Symmetrical Grid Layout – Perfect for a structured and balanced look. 📐 Asymmetrical Gallery Wall – Mix different sizes and orientations for an artistic effect. 📌 Leaning Frames on Shelves – No nails required! Arrange frames on floating shelves for flexibility. 🎭 Layering Frames – Overlapping frames on mantels or console tables add depth and texture.

👉 See Creative Frame Layout Ideas

Final Thoughts

Choosing the right photo frame is all about balancing style, size, and placement to create a meaningful and visually appealing display in your home. Whether you prefer modern elegance, rustic charm, or classic sophistication, there’s a perfect frame for your cherished memories.

🌟 Ready to elevate your home decor?👉 Shop the Best Photo Frames Today 🖼✨

[lunadesignstudios]

Indoor Wall Lights to Illuminate Your Style

Indoor wall lights are more than just functional fixtures. They add personality, depth, and ambiance to any space. From casting a warm glow over a reading nook to highlighting artwork, the right wall light can truly elevate your interior design. But with so many styles to choose from, how do you pick the perfect one? This guide explores three popular categories: classic, modern, and industrial, helping you find the wall light that complements your unique style.

Classic Wall Lights: Timeless Elegance

Classic wall lights evoke a sense of sophistication and tradition. They often feature intricate details, rich finishes, and familiar shapes like sconces and chandeliers.

Sconces: These versatile fixtures come in a variety of styles, from the simple elegance of a single arm with a fabric shade to the grandeur of a multi-armed candelabra. Classic sconces are perfect for flanking a fireplace, adding a touch of symmetry and warmth to a living room.

Chandeliers: Even in a smaller scale, wall-mounted chandeliers bring a touch of luxury to an entryway, hallway, or powder room. Look for designs with crystal accents, cascading beads, or wrought iron details for a touch of timeless charm.

Swing-arm sconces: These practical and stylish lights feature an adjustable arm that allows you to direct light where it's needed most. Perfect for reading nooks or bedside lighting, classic swing-arm sconces add a touch of vintage flair.

Modern Wall Lights: Sleek and Sophisticated

Modern wall lights are all about clean lines, minimalist designs, and innovative materials. They add a touch of contemporary edge to any space.

Sconces: Modern sconces often feature geometric shapes, metallic finishes, and integrated LED lighting. They can be mounted vertically for a dramatic effect or horizontally to provide task lighting.

Flush mounts: These low-profile fixtures hug the wall, offering ambient light without overwhelming the space. Look for designs with frosted glass diffusers for a soft, diffused glow or exposed bulbs for a more industrial feel.

Picture lights: Modern picture lights are a great way to showcase artwork or create a focal point on a wall. They come in various lengths and styles, with adjustable arms for precise light placement.

Industrial Wall Lights: Raw and Edgy

Industrial wall lights bring a touch of urban grit and vintage charm to your space. They often feature exposed metal accents, weathered finishes, and vintage-inspired bulbs.

Barn sconces: These iconic lights are perfect for hallways, entryways, or flanking a fireplace. Look for designs with metal shades and distressed finishes for an authentic industrial feel.

Cage lights: These wire-framed fixtures add a touch of drama and visual interest. They work well in kitchens, bars, or even a home office for a touch of industrial inspiration.

Wall spotlights: These adjustable fixtures are perfect for highlighting artwork, architectural details, or creating a dramatic pool of light. Look for designs with exposed tracks or swiveling heads for a versatile lighting solution.

Choosing the Right Light

Beyond style, consider these factors when selecting your indoor wall lights:

Function: What is the primary purpose of the light? Do you need task lighting for reading, ambient lighting for a hallway, or accent lighting for artwork?

Size and Scale: Ensure the light is proportionate to the wall space and the overall size of the room.

Dimmability: Opt for dimmable lights to create different moods and adjust the brightness as needed.

Color Temperature: Consider the color temperature of the bulb. Warm white light creates a cozy ambiance, while cool white light is ideal for task lighting.

Conclusion

Indoor wall lights offer a versatile and stylish way to illuminate your home. Whether you prefer the timeless elegance of classic styles, the sleek sophistication of modern designs, or the raw edge of industrial lights, there's a perfect Indoor Wall Lights to complement your décor and create a warm and inviting atmosphere. So, explore your options, consider your needs, and let your walls shine!

[sansajonquil]

julia and I were walking around the shop, putting items in shelves from red basket. she and I liked to talk to each other in the shop, we preferring to go together on weekend work days. we also went to the shop every weekday after school, the bus stopping there, where we just relaxed ( sometimes mum asking to help ).

during lunch, we go to an upstairs level restaurant, walking up the carpet. it was a Chinese restaurant, where we order chicken omelette and boiled white rice. nearby was a video rental store, where I bought true blood. statues of white were outside, an angel of ulliel adorning the restaurant. I was shocked at the nudity in a scene of a girl and boy in the living room, thinking it rather unnecessarily bare, yet the blood and violence was good.

as I was walking around, looking at vinyls, I saw a blond haired person wearing a black suit. he was called eric, he saying, ‘ we have catching up to do. ‘ his eyes were ringed in blackening red, he saying, ‘ I feel like I’m f***ing dying, ‘ in his times of raging exhaustion.

we eat lunch here at the music room, a waitress called sookie serving us the chicken omelette, cutlery softly thudding onto the light brown wood. it was soft and delicious, yellow yolk and chicken in saucepan. ‘ get out of there, egg shell, ‘ we heard the cook say through the brown door, when he was cooking, a green towel on his shoulder. a chinese family ran the restaurant. the walls of the room were a red wine, there being a photo frame of the seashore. a boy was lying on the sand, washed ashore, green blue waves.

we talk more about things, including our time at the fireplace. we were known as anime and dark, where the regulars knew we were twins. as we talk, we also eat and drink soup. there was a spider on the table, in which we moved our chair angled away. vin ( red lips ) and fab ( v for vendetta ) were also twins. she was quite sad of some people who were mean to her at syrus’ seven deadly sins, in which he and flame rising were at war with each other. she said, ‘ they made a thread about me, insulting me. ‘ I seeing the thread, and thinking they were mean. she was crying very hard in her cushion at the sofa, as they were cruel and was thinking why they left her. she feeling like a little girl who saw the death of her parents at the orphanage she was in with mello and near. she seeing the white and black dice beads of her mother’s necklace trickle and spill in slow motion onto the ground. she also was doing science, maths, and history homework, which was pretty overwhelming as well.

most of the regulars there at the fireplace were american, me remembering during my posting there, that four pm was midnight there. there was a regular called pie ( black cat ), who was known as the forum’s mum. me and Julia talked to her. pie had heard how upset Julia was, she understanding a little of my sister’s mental fragility, worrying about her. she was a psychologist at a prison.

pie said she’ll be here in a few hours to where we are, and julia said ‘ no, you will be here in a few minutes. ‘ Pie said, while speaking on her phone on the dashboard, as she sits at the driver’s seat, ‘ evidently, you’ve seen my driving skills, anime. ;) ‘ she drives her car to where the parking level was in our apartment building, and presses the buzzer to our apartment. we look at the eyehole, seeing it was pie, and open the door.

‘ ancient history is interesting at least, ‘ she says to pie, as we are sitting at sofa. ‘ we are learning about the Black Death, ‘ she saying through her sniffles, a tissue box next to her. she was wearing a green denim jacket, her black hair short to a little past her ears.

[a-lilyinthevalley]

"...1," is whispered into the empty air. An even smaller, "Fuck," follows.

White Lily is alone as she sits at her kitchen counter and allows herself to cry over everything she had learned. Almost a full day since they had first kissed the Beast of Silence. And everything had gone wrong as soon as they fell asleep.

Tired, watery eyes land on the plush on the ground. The helm was gone, bead eye staring up at her accusingly.

"Don't look at me like that," they rasped at the plush. The plush, of course, continued staring.

A sigh runs its course through her body. They drag themselves over to the miniature Beast of Silence, picking at one of their arms and making them do a little wave.

She places it on the fireplace mantle, face turned towards the wall, and begins clearing the living room of blankets.

Wings and scissors and cruel, cruel laughter--

"GET AWAY FROM ME-!" she nearly screams, slapping away the Beast's hand on instinct.

They can't breathe, they can't breathe, why can't they breathe-?

She blindly grabs for the stuff around her, hands landing on a pillow, and throws it as hard as she can at the person in front of her.

While they're distracted, she scrambles to get the couch between her and the Beast of Silence.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Beast."

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