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festivalgiftshop · 1 month
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Elevate Your Table: Creative Christmas Table Runner Ideas
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The holiday season is upon us, and there’s a certain magic in the air that inspires us to decorate our homes with festive cheer. Whether you're hosting a family dinner or a cozy gathering with friends, the presentation of your Christmas table can make a significant impact. One easy yet transformative way to elevate your dining area is by using a creative Christmas table runner. Here's how you can turn your table setting into a picturesque catalog entry with a stylish runner that fits any artsy idea or design.
Why a Table Runner?
A table runner is more than just a piece of fabric; it’s a canvas for your creativity and a foundational element that ties together your entire table decor. With the right table runner, you can:
Create Visual Interest: Add texture and color to your table, making it more appealing.
Define the Space: Help delineate the dining area, making it feel more intimate and inviting.
Protect Your Table: Shield your dining table from hot dishes, spills, and scratches.
Our Featured Table Runner
Our Creative Christmas Table Runner is designed to cater to those who wish to make their dining settings remarkable. Here are some standout features:
Material Options
Cotton Twill: Known for its durability and classic look, cotton twill offers a luxurious feel. It’s perfect for those who love a traditional and artful touch.
Polyester: This material is ideal for vibrant and modern designs. It’s easy to clean and maintains its vivid colors, ensuring your table runner looks as good at the end of the meal as it did at the start.
Size Options
16" × 72": A versatile size that fits most standard dining tables, offering a balanced look.
16" × 90": Perfect for larger tables or those who prefer a more dramatic drape effect.
Additional Features
Hemmed Edges: For a polished and finished look, preventing fraying and ensuring longevity.
One-Sided Print: Allows for intricate and vivid designs that catch the eye.
Creative Ideas for Your Christmas Table Runner
Classic Elegance
For those who adore timeless elegance, a cotton twill runner in deep red or forest green can create a sophisticated holiday atmosphere. Pair it with gold or silver accents, such as candle holders and cutlery, to enhance the classic feel.
Modern Chic
If your style leans towards the contemporary, opt for a polyester runner with bold geometric patterns or abstract designs. Complement it with sleek, minimalist tableware and a centerpiece featuring modern metallics or glass elements.
Rustic Charm
Embrace the cozy and warm aesthetic of rustic decor with a table runner featuring natural motifs like holly leaves or pine cones. Cotton twill is perfect for this style, adding a touch of homespun charm to your table setting. Pair it with wooden accents and earthy tones for a truly inviting table.
Vibrant & Vivid
For a festive and lively table, a polyester runner with bright and colorful prints can be a showstopper. Think whimsical patterns, playful holiday icons, or even a custom design that resonates with your family traditions. Add pops of color through your napkins, plates, and glassware to keep the theme cohesive.
How to Style Your Table Runner
Styling your table runner is an art in itself. Here are some tips to help you master it:
Layering: Place your table runner over a solid-colored tablecloth for added depth and texture.
Centerpieces: Position your centerpiece directly on the table runner to draw attention to it. Consider using candles, flowers, or holiday ornaments.
Symmetry: Ensure your table runner is centered and straight. Use tape or clips if necessary to keep it in place.
Place Settings: Arrange your place settings on either side of the table runner, ensuring that each setting complements the overall theme.
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marieburgosdesignusa · 3 months
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The Top Interior Designer NY Trends Taking Over
New York City is a hub for innovation and cutting-edge design in everything from fashion to food to visual arts. It should come as no surprise that interior design follows suit, with some of the most progressive and unique trends leading the way. From boutique firms to individual interior designer NY has no shortage of creative talent pushing boundaries in residential and commercial spaces.
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We’re breaking down the top interior design trends making waves in NYC right now. Whether you’re looking to refresh your home or want inspiration for a commercial project, understanding these trends is key to capturing the essence of New York’s dynamic design scene.
Organic Shapes and Forms
Nature is having a major moment in interior designNYC. Look for organic, irregular shapes and forms that bring the outdoors in. These biophilic elements have both aesthetic and functional benefits, connecting people more closely to nature while also providing visual interest.
NYC designers are incorporating organic shapes and forms in various ways, including custom millwork and built-ins with asymmetric shapes, curved walls and ceilings, kidney-shaped coffee tables or oval dining sets, and abstract art or lighting fixtures inspired by natural elements. The overall feel is fluid yet grounded.
Warm, Moody Hues
Gone are the days of all-white, stark interiors. Rich, moody hues are taking over in their place for a cozier, enveloping feel. Deep greens, navy blues, charcoal grays, and warm metallics like bronze and brass are some of the most popular paint colors and materials right now. Often used on cabinetry, walls, and even ceilings, these colors provide a dramatic backdrop for decor and artwork.
By balancing moodier hues with plenty of natural light and lighter accent colors and decor items, NYC designers are creating spaces that feel glamorous but still livable in real life. This trend effortlessly walks the line between stylized and comfortable.
Sleek Minimalism
At the other end of the spectrum, sleek, minimal interiors devoid of clutter continue to gain traction. This aesthetic highlights quality over quantity, with a tightly edited mix of furniture and decor that makes intentional statements.
Expect to see lots of neutral colors and materials, like white oak and marble, coupled with modern silhouettes. Clean lines, ample negative space, and an absence of overly personal clutter characterize this trend. High-end lighting fixtures and artwork take center stage. NYC designers often apply this minimal treatment to open-concept spaces, making them appear even more spacious and airy.
Maximum Texture Mixing
Forget playing it safe by sticking to one texture—mix and match for true depth and visual appeal. Smooth glass, nubby wool, glossy lacquer finishes, natural stone—you name it-is, fair game. The key is to incorporate these varied textures strategically so that there is plenty for the eye to discover without crossing over into cluttered territory.
In addition to using a range of textiles like wool area rugs, silk pillows, cotton throws, and velvet upholstery, creative shelving, and object styling make the most of contrasting materials. Matte ceramics combined with sleek metal bookends, a wooden bowl holding apples and oranges, and rough linen napkins on a smooth marble dining table bring this playful approach a new dimension.
Custom Built-In Storage
As real estate prices continue to rise in NYC, so does the need to maximize square footage through smart storage solutions. Custom built-ins offer tons of hidden storage capacity while also personalizing a space. From floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to window seats or bench seating with storage compartments underneath, built-ins are tailored to exact room dimensions and needs.
In addition to anchoring a room, built-ins add architectural detail suited precisely to each home. They also reduce visual clutter by containing items that would otherwise crowd surfaces. For these reasons, custom built-in cabinetry, shelving, and storage reign top NYC interior designers and their clients.
Statement Lighting Takes Center Stage
Lighting serves both practical and aesthetic purposes, making it a focal point rather than an afterthought in interior design. From sculptural pendant lights to vertical sconces and custom chandeliers, statement-making fixtures elevate rooms beyond basic overhead can lighting.
In addition to striking stand-alone fixtures, creative arrangements like staggered wall sconces or clustered pendants make ordinary lighting extraordinary. By mixing different shapes, sizes, and styles, lighting becomes an artistic element unto itself. Statement lighting pulls together an interior design concept while also injecting personality. For maximum versatility down the road, smart NYC designers opt for fixtures that allow customizable shades and bulbs.
Final Thoughts
Interior design trends come and go, but some standouts like these take hold beyond passing fads. Both residential and commercial spaces in NYC benefit from focusing on quality over quantity, clean lines, creative built-ins and lighting, edited decor, and bringing nature’s beauty indoors through organic shapes and forms. Rich colors and varied textures also add much-needed depth and dimension when balanced thoughtfully. Keep these key trends on your radar for interior design inspiration that captures the innovation and livability that makes New York City spaces so special. Their influence extends far beyond the five boroughs while retaining a quintessentially NYC point of view.
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saproseretail · 3 months
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Elevating Your Home Décor: Enhancing Elegance With Saprose Retail's Home Accessories
In the realm of interior design, the essence of elegance lies in the meticulous selection of home accessories that harmonize with your living space, infusing it with sophistication and charm. From stylish baskets to luxurious carpets, every element plays a pivotal role in creating a visually captivating ambiance. Saprose Retail, a distinguished purveyor of high-quality home accessories, offers a myriad of exquisite products designed to elevate your home décor to new heights.
Baskets: The Epitome of Functionality and Style
Baskets are not merely utilitarian items; they are versatile accents that effortlessly blend functionality with aesthetic appeal. At Saprose Retail, you'll discover an extensive collection of baskets crafted with precision and finesse. Whether you seek storage solutions or decorative accents, Saprose Retail has the perfect basket to suit your needs. From intricately woven wicker baskets to sleek modern designs, each piece exudes timeless elegance. These baskets serve as both practical storage solutions and decorative accents, adding depth and texture to any room. Place a woven basket by the fireplace to store extra blankets or use a set of nested baskets in the living room to corral magazines and remote controls. The possibilities are endless, allowing you to showcase your personal style while keeping your home organized and clutter-free.
Door Mats: Welcome Guests with Grace
The entrance to your home sets the tone for what lies beyond, making it imperative to adorn it with welcoming elements. Saprose Retail offers an exquisite selection of door mats that combine practicality with style. Crafted from durable materials and adorned with captivating designs, these door mats not only greet guests with warmth but also add a touch of sophistication to your entryway. With Saprose Retail's door mats, you can make a lasting impression right from the moment visitors step foot into your abode. Choose from a variety of designs, including classic patterns, modern geometric shapes, and whimsical motifs, to find the perfect door mat that reflects your personality and complements your home's aesthetic.
Table Mats: Elevate Dining Experiences
Dining is more than just nourishment; it's an experience that encompasses ambiance, aesthetics, and culinary delight. Saprose Retail understands the importance of creating a visually appealing dining setting, which is why they offer an array of table mats designed to elevate your dining experiences. Whether you prefer minimalist elegance or vibrant patterns, Saprose Retail's table mats add a layer of refinement to your table setting, making every meal a feast for the senses. Made from high-quality materials such as cotton, linen, and bamboo, these table mats not only protect your table from scratches and spills but also enhance its beauty. Pair them with coordinating napkins and table runners for a cohesive look that will impress your guests and elevate your dining experience to new heights.
Carpets: Luxurious Underfoot Comfort
Nothing exudes luxury quite like a plush carpet underfoot. Saprose Retail's exquisite collection of carpets embodies opulence and comfort, transforming your living space into a sanctuary of indulgence. From sumptuously soft textures to striking patterns and hues, each carpet is a masterpiece in its own right, enhancing the ambiance of any room with its allure. Whether placed in the living room, bedroom, or study, Saprose Retail's carpets infuse your home with warmth and elegance. Choose from a variety of sizes and styles to suit your space and aesthetic preferences, whether you prefer a traditional Persian rug, a contemporary abstract design, or a cozy shag carpet. With Saprose Retail's carpets, you can create a luxurious retreat where you can unwind and relax in style.
Bath Mats: Pamper Yourself in Style
The bathroom is a sanctuary for relaxation and rejuvenation, and Saprose Retail ensures that every aspect of it reflects tranquility and style. Their bath mats combine practicality with luxury, providing a soft and absorbent surface that pampers your feet while adding a touch of sophistication to your bathroom décor. Available in an array of colors and designs, Saprose Retail's bath mats are the epitome of indulgence, inviting you to unwind in style after a long day. Choose from plush microfiber mats for a spa-like experience or durable rubber mats for added safety and stability. With Saprose Retail's bath mats, you can transform your bathroom into a luxurious retreat where you can escape the stresses of the day and indulge in moments of relaxation and self-care.
Doormats Online: Convenience at Your Fingertips
In today's fast-paced world, convenience is paramount, and Saprose Retail understands the importance of seamless shopping experiences. With their user-friendly online platform, you can browse and purchase exquisite home accessories from the comfort of your own home. Whether you're in search of the perfect door mat, table mats, baskets, or carpets, Saprose Retail's online store offers a hassle-free shopping experience, ensuring that you can effortlessly elevate your home décor with just a few clicks. Explore their extensive collection of products, read customer reviews, and take advantage of exclusive online promotions and discounts. With Saprose Retail's online shopping platform, you can enjoy the convenience of doorstep delivery and transform your home into a haven of elegance and style with ease.
In conclusion
Saprose Retail's home accessories epitomize elegance, offering a perfect fusion of functionality and style. Whether you're seeking to declutter with chic baskets, welcome guests with grace using elegant door mats, elevate dining experiences with exquisite table mats, indulge in luxurious comfort with plush carpets, or pamper yourself in style with sumptuous bath mats, Saprose Retail has you covered. With their seamless online shopping experience, adding sophistication to your home décor has never been easier. Discover the allure of Saprose Retail's home accessories and transform your living space into a haven of elegance and refinement.
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worthyhog0001 · 4 months
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Potato-Printed Fabric: Exploring Creative DIY Craft Projects
Introduction
In the world of do-it-yourself (DIY) crafts, the humble potato emerges as an unlikely hero. Potato-printed fabric, a delightful and accessible crafting technique, allows enthusiasts to transform plain fabrics into personalized works of art. In this comprehensive guide, we will dive into the art of potato printing, exploring various DIY craft projects that showcase the versatility and creativity achievable with this simple yet effective method.
Understanding Potato Printing
The Basics of Potato Printing:
Potato printing is a form of relief printing, where a carved surface is coated with ink and pressed onto paper or fabric to create a design. The naturally absorbent and porous nature of potatoes makes them ideal for crafting intricate patterns on fabric. This technique is not only cost-effective but also provides a hands-on and enjoyable crafting experience for individuals of all ages.
Materials Needed:
Potatoes: Choose firm, smooth potatoes for carving. The size can vary based on the desired print size.
Knife: A sharp knife is essential for carving intricate designs on the potato.
Fabric Paint or Acrylic Paint: Water-based fabric paints or acrylic paints work well for potato printing.
Fabric: Cotton and linen fabrics are recommended for their absorbent qualities.
Cutting Mat or Plate: To protect surfaces during the carving process.
Paintbrushes and Palette: For applying paint to the carved potato.
Paper Towels: To blot excess paint and prevent smudging.
Potato Printing Projects for Beginners
1. Customized Tote Bags:
Transform a plain canvas tote into a personalized accessory. Carve a simple design onto a halved potato, dip it in fabric paint, and stamp it onto the tote bag. Experiment with different colors and patterns to create a unique, eye-catching accessory.
2. Stylish Cushion Covers:
Give your living space a fresh look by potato printing cushion covers. Create geometric patterns, floral motifs, or even abstract designs on plain pillowcases. Mix and match colors to complement your existing decor.
3. DIY Apparel:
Revamp your wardrobe with potato-printed clothing items. From t-shirts to skirts, you can breathe new life into old garments. Craft a series of smaller stamps to form a cohesive pattern or go for a bold statement with a large, intricate design.
4. Festive Table Runners:
Add a touch of charm to your dining table by designing a potato-printed table runner. Choose seasonal motifs or create a theme for special occasions. It's a fantastic way to elevate your dining experience with a personalized touch.
5. Kid-Friendly Art Prints:
Potato printing is an excellent activity for children. Encourage creativity by letting them carve their designs onto potato halves and stamping them onto paper or fabric. This project not only fosters artistic expression but also provides an opportunity for valuable parent-child bonding.
Advanced Potato Printing Techniques
1. Layered Designs:
For a more intricate and dynamic result, experiment with layered potato prints. Carve multiple potatoes with complementary or contrasting designs, allowing you to create complex patterns with depth and dimension.
2. Gradient Effects:
Achieve gradient effects by blending different colors directly on the potato. Use a paintbrush to apply two or more colors to the carved surface, creating a smooth transition of hues in the final print.
3. Textured Backgrounds:
Instead of stamping the entire design, use the potato to create textured backgrounds. Apply paint to the carved potato and press it lightly onto the fabric, leaving behind a subtle and visually appealing pattern.
4. Monogrammed Items:
Personalize your belongings by crafting monogrammed items using potato printing. Carve the initials onto the potato and stamp them onto various surfaces, such as napkins, hand towels, or even small canvas bags.
5. Wall Art:
Elevate your home decor by creating potato-printed wall art. Frame fabric pieces featuring your favorite designs or create a large-scale mural by stamping directly onto a canvas. This project allows you to showcase your artistic flair in a bold and impactful way.
Tips and Tricks for Successful Potato Printing
1. Choose the Right Potato:
Opt for fresh and firm potatoes with smooth surfaces. Avoid potatoes with sprouts or soft spots, as they may not yield clean prints.
2. Keep It Simple:
Especially for beginners, start with straightforward designs. As you become more comfortable with the technique, you can gradually progress to more intricate patterns.
3. Pre-Wash Fabric:
To ensure the longevity of your prints, pre-wash the fabric to remove any sizing or residues that might interfere with the absorption of paint.
4. Test on Scrap Fabric:
Before committing to your final project, test the potato stamp on scrap fabric to evaluate the pressure, coverage, and color combinations.
5. Seal the Design:
Once the paint is completely dry, set the design by ironing the fabric on the reverse side. This helps to make the print more durable and wash-resistant.
6. Mix and Match Colors:
Experiment with different color combinations to create visually appealing and harmonious designs. Don't be afraid to play with contrasts or stick to a monochromatic theme for a more subtle effect.
7. Embrace Imperfections:
Potato printing embraces a handcrafted aesthetic. Embrace the imperfections and irregularities that make each print unique. These characteristics add character and charm to your creations.
Conclusion
Potato-printed fabric projects offer a delightful fusion of creativity, simplicity, and affordability. Whether you're a crafting novice or a seasoned DIY enthusiast, the versatility of potato printing allows you to explore an array of possibilities. From personalized accessories to home decor items, each project becomes a canvas for your imagination.
As you embark on your Funny potato printing journey, remember that the beauty of this craft lies not only in the finished creations but also in the process itself. Enjoy the tactile experience of carving, the excitement of experimenting with colors, and the satisfaction of transforming plain fabric into a unique piece of art. Potato printing is not just a crafting technique; it's a celebration of individuality, self-expression, and the joy that comes from creating something beautiful with your own hands. So, gather your supplies, unleash your creativity, and let the potato-printed fabric projects unfold!
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embroidery-pro · 5 months
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discover the cutwork embroidery
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Unveiling the Delicate Beauty: A Journey into Cutwork Embroidery
Imagine intricate patterns of swirling florals, geometric shapes, and airy open spaces adorning clothing, linens, and home décor. This, my friend, is the mesmerizing world of cutwork embroidery, a technique that combines the precision of stitching with the elegance of openwork design. But don't be fooled by its delicate appearance; cutwork boasts a rich history and surprising versatility, waiting to be explored by modern crafters like you! Delving into History: From Royal Garments to Modern Masterpieces Cutwork, also known as "punto tagliato" in Italian, boasts a lineage as old as embroidery itself. Its origins trace back to ancient cultures like India and China, but it truly flourished in Europe during the Renaissance. Back then, intricate cutwork adorned the finery of royalty and nobility, showcasing their wealth and status. Imagine flowing gowns and ceremonial linens embellished with delicate floral motifs, painstakingly crafted by skilled artisans. Over time, cutwork evolved, transitioning from a symbol of opulence to a more accessible decorative technique. Victorian-era tablecloths and handkerchiefs often featured cutwork borders, adding a touch of elegance to everyday household items. Today, cutwork enjoys a renewed popularity among embroidery enthusiasts. Not only does it offer a timeless aesthetic, but it also allows for unique personalization and creative expression. Demystifying the Technique: Stitches, Fabrics, and Finishing Touches At its core, cutwork involves creating openwork designs by cutting away sections of fabric and reinforcing the edges with embroidery stitches. While seemingly simple, it requires careful planning, precise execution, and a keen eye for detail. Here's a peek into the essential elements: Stitches: Running stitch and buttonhole stitch are the main players, forming the delicate borders around the cut areas. Other decorative stitches like satin stitch or bullion knots can be added for embellishment. Fabrics: Fine, tightly woven fabrics like linen, cotton lawn, or batiste are ideal for cutwork, as they hold their shape well and prevent fraying. Finishing Touches: After cutting and stitching, neatly clip away any stray threads and press the work to perfection. Consider additional touches like picot edging or French knots for an extra dose of charm. Unlocking the Creative Potential: From Traditional to Modern Applications The beauty of cutwork lies in its versatility. While traditional floral motifs remain popular, the possibilities are endless! Let your imagination run wild: Modernize with geometric patterns: Think clean lines, abstract shapes, and bold color palettes for a contemporary twist. Personalize with monograms or initials: Add a touch of exclusivity to handkerchiefs, napkins, or clothing. Adorn home décor: Elevate cushions, tablecloths, or tea towels with delicate cutwork borders. Experiment with mixed media: Combine cutwork with other embroidery techniques like appliqué or beading for a layered effect. Embarking on Your Cutwork Journey: Tips and Resources to Get You Started Ready to explore the world of cutwork? Here are some helpful tips: Start small: Choose a simple design and practice basic stitches before tackling complex patterns. Invest in quality tools: Sharp embroidery scissors, good quality needles, and appropriate thread will make your work easier and more enjoyable. Seek inspiration: Look at vintage patterns, browse online resources, or join embroidery communities for ideas and techniques. Practice patience: Cutwork requires meticulous attention to detail. Embrace the process and enjoy the satisfaction of creating something beautiful by hand. Here are some helpful resources to get you started: Websites: Needlework Tips and Techniques (https://www.needlework-tips-and-techniques.com/) Books: "The Complete Book of Cutwork" by Jeannette Douglas, "Cutwork Designs" by Laura Ashley YouTube Tutorials: CreativeBug Cutwork Embroidery Masterclass, Bluestone Creations Cutwork Basics So, are you ready to unveil the beauty of cutwork embroidery? With a little patience, practice, and creativity, you can transform simple fabric into delicate masterpieces that are both timeless and uniquely yours. So pick up your needle, thread, and scissors, and let the journey of cutwork exploration begin! Read the full article
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dmaasa03 · 9 months
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Hidden Treasure of Block Print Fabric for Your Home and Living
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When someone steps into your home, they discover a lot about you through your home and living style. In recent times, an individual has various options to modernise their interior. One of the best options is block print fabric, which is a true and tested method to enhance the aesthetic value of your home.
From bedding to the living room, there are distinct ways to incorporate block print fabric into your lifestyle. The soft, fluffy, and plush fabric brings comfort and is designed through intricate attention to detail and mindful ways. Animal print, ethnic motifs, floral prints, and nature-inspired patterns are the reflection of an individual’s creativity. 
DMAASA is a Jaipur block print garment-based brand, and we craft home and living-based handmade garments to beautify the interior. Pure organic cotton fabric from the farm, labour-intensive process, and use of natural dyes extracted from vegetables and fruits tie the beautiful bond with the nature of humans. Our drop-dead gorgeous collection is evidence of the tireless effort of our skilled artisans. Want to enhance the aesthetics of your home with the hidden treasure of block print fabric? Then here we are going to unearth the ways to beautify the interior home and living through our sophisticated block print garments. 
Soft and plush cushions and covers: Upgrade your relaxation:
The beautiful pairs of cushions and sofa cushion covers are the perfect complement to your bedding. From minimal to dramatic interior design, you can have multiple options of majestic hues that bloom away the viewer's mind. Solid-colour cushions and cotton fabric-based cushion covers will be soft and supple to the touch. Whenever you lie on the sofa, it brings pleasure and a haven of comfort with the beautiful artwork of artisans. This is the time to swap out the plain cushion covers and replace them with new ones.
Cotton Tablecloth: Create memories with the dinner:
Beauty and elegance shift the mood from one to another level. With the decorated dinner table, the mood of the viewer gets astounded in a cherished manner. Whether you have a 6-seater table or a 2-seater table, we got you covered with the sophisticated tablecloth that resonates with your interior. With a beautiful table cover, make your dinner date memorable and attract more compliments. Along with that, you can enhance the beauty of the kitchen through placemats, runners, and napkins, as per the type of interior.
Curtains: Frame your words in style:
Drape your curtains on the window as you want to, and let the light, breeze, and block explain their tale. The block print cloth, which is soft and has unique prints, resonates with your ambiance and brings a lure. In the meantime, you can sit in front of the window to let your imagination reach new heights.
Bedding: A safe haven for restful slumber:
Luxury sleep needs to be earned because it is priceless. With a beautiful collection of bedding accessories like bedsheets, bedcovers, duvets, quilts, and throws, When all this essential bedding is beautifully draped into your bed, it creates a heaven of comfort. During a chill night, the luxury bedding set will add warmth and allow someone to stay in bed for a long time.
Throws: Your go-to for warmth and style:
The beautiful throw blanket or sofa throw both have their own unique essence, which is to help you feel at ease. Whether you are chilling out on the sofa during the autumn or winter season or lying in bed, there are various collections of throws available to bring cosy comfort and solace. Abstract, ethnic, floral, motifs and solid are some of the variations that you can find for yourself to draw the attention of the viewer.
Lampshade: Experiment with the block print to illuminate the magic light:
You may see the light illuminate through your lampshades, but this is the time to experiment to revive the beauty of true reflection. Apart from the bedding, throws, and dining table accessories, now you can wrap the block print cloth to enhance the overall appearance of your lampshades. Block print fabric is versatile, and you can create a magnificent ambiance by experimenting in multiple ways.
For Home Decor creations:
With the beautiful block print fabric, you can decorate the whole interior as you want. Whether you wish to decorate for marriage purposes or for any get-together party, this is the time to infuse traditional fabric pieces to add life to your decor. This is the time to show appreciation and support for ancient practices and unleash your creativity.
Adorn yourself with the block print jewellery:
Jewelry is another necessary thing that amplifies the overall appearance of an individual. But the majority of people are unaware of the fact that you can create beautiful jewelry to adorn yourself on any apparel with block print fabric. You may have tried metal, aluminum, and gold jewelry, but it is time to try something new from the hidden treasure of ancient culture. To become a fashion statement in your traditional and contemporary occasions, block print is the best option from which you can inspire others.
Block Print Fabric: Get the Most Out of It With These Do-It-Yourself Tips:
Block-printing is an overrated, time-tested practice, and it is a prominent technique that people incorporate into their lifestyles. Leveraging the use of this textile print art will enhance the ambiance of the interior. If you want to discover the beauty of block print fabric, then try these DIY tips for hand block print fabric.
Fabric wall art
Curtain tie-backs
Napkin rings
Tote bags and clutches
Flags 
Bulletin board cover
Window pelmet 
Scrapbook/ Journal
Printed gift wrap
Baby cloth 
Rugs and soft cotton napkins
Wrapping Up!
From carving the intricate design on a wooden block to printing on soft fabric, this ancient process is a time-tested practice and has created an influence all across the world. The skilled hands of artisans and the natural essence of cotton and natural dyes improve the aesthetics of your home. Utilising more hand block print fabric pieces represents your participation in improving the lives of the local artisans and supporting the time-tested practice. DMAASA has started this revolution to ditch the artificial machinery used in crafting garments and embrace the power of the skilled hands of local artisans. From bedding to home decor, we have crafted multiple items that add luxury to your lifestyle and reflect a personality that makes a voice of yours. Today we have uncovered ways to improve your home’s aesthetics with block prints. I hope you find it lucrative, and if you also want to make one of yours, then this is the time to begin the journey from here.
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countryporch · 2 years
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Natural Home Cloth Fabric Table Napkin
Natural Home Cloth Fabric Table Napkin from the C&F Home > Tabletop > Everyday > Napkins collection by C&F Enterprises. Transform your space with the rich color and dynamic design of Natural Home tabletop collection. Lush leafy sprigs with delicate buds and subtly blooming flowers paint a lively yellow, blue, and indigo scene on a fresh white ground. Natural Home reverses to an abstract, dotted geometric design in yellow for more bold styling options. Crafted of cotton and machine washable for easy care. Love this pattern? Our Natural Home collection is also available in bedding, and a ruffled valance. Details: Reversible Napkin. Dimensions: 20" x 20". Materials: Cotton. Color: Blue. Care Instructions: Machine Wash.
source https://www.thecountryporch.com/c-and-f-enterprises/view.asp?item=842613077
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rethreadzandmore · 2 years
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Floral Damask Waterproof Wrinkle Resistant Oil Proof Heavy Table Runner 14" x 72.
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christinepeloquin · 2 years
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January 14-15, 2023: Drawing and Painting on Mixed Media Collage 2 Day Workshop
Drawing and Painting on Mixed Media Collage 2 Day Workshop at Island Art Association
18 North 2nd Street, Fernandina Beach, Florida 32034
January 14-15, 2023, Saturday and Sunday 10 am to 5 pm
This class is limited to 12 students.
Please note that a 50% refund is available for workshops cancelled 72 hours in advance.
Drawing and Painting with Mixed Media Collage
Learn the joys of mixed media collage. In the workshop, I teach the fundamentals of collage, drawing and painting. I will address working with papers, fabrics, found objects, past art work, pencil and charcoal drawing, and acrylic painting. Students have the option to play with gelli plates, stamps and monoprinting on papers in addition the collage. The materials used will be the choice of each student, but students are encouraged to incorporate some of their own prior art work into new pieces. The objective of the workshop is to explore new mixed media techniques and excavate each student’s authentic voice in their art.
I teach 2 drawing methods using the student's own photos. I teach how to graph a photo for any size free hand drawing and also a tracing method that works well for small pieces and individuals who are intimidated or new to drawing. We learn the fundamentals of collage on the first day and then spend the second day drawing and painting over those collages. I do drawing demonstrations on the first day so that you know what to expect and what kind of photo reference to bring. I work individually with each person trying to get their projects to a place that they love.
I encourage everyone to incorporate mixed media collage into what they already do! I will work with each of you on whatever style project you would like to work on whether it is faces, figures, landscapes, still lives or abstracts. There are no set rules in my workshops. I try to create a fun time that introduces new techniques and a comfortable learning environment to enhance where you already are. All levels are welcomed!
I NOW HAVE THE MATERIALS LIST COMPLETE ON BLICKS ART SUPPLY. COM CLICK HERE FOR REQUIRED AND RECOMMENDED SUPPLIES.
Materials list;
·         2 to 4 Wood panels, or canvas boards. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/blick-studio-wood-panels/ . Medium sizes (24 x 24), 12 x 12 and largeR if you want. I will have different sizes available for sale as well.
·         Fabrics-- new and old, scraps, curtains, tablecloths, patterned napkins, cottons, polyesters, silks--anything that speaks to you. They do not have to be perfect, just smooth. Please bring patterns you would love to see in your work!
·         Papers –scrapbooking papers, patterned, tissue paper, wall paper, maps, paper napkins. Japanese rice papers work best.
·         Optional: Found Objects- old letters, old book pages, stamps, ribbon, washi tapes, scrapbooking stuff, keys, pressed dried flowers….
·         Optional: Prior art projects that you are willing to let go of- watercolors, drawings, paintings, photographs…anything except oil paintings or inkjet photos.
·         Matte medium – 16 oz. We'll use a lot of this! Golden is great but NOT Golden OPEN matte medium (It dries too slowly for this.) Mod podge does not work for this either.  https://www.utrechtart.com/items/00628-1126/
·         OPTIONAL gelli plate gelliarts.com,  roller and stamps to do some monoprinting on papers and fabrics
·         Extra soft vine charcoal, https://www.utrechtart.com/items/22989-1002/ soft charcoal pencil https://www.utrechtart.com/items/20418-2061/  and super soft black charcoal sticks. (I will provide these black ones)
·         Optional: Blending Stumps or Tortillons https://www.utrechtart.com/items/20344-1003/
·         Charcoal kneaded eraser https://www.utrechtart.com/products/prismacolor-kneaded-rubber-erasers/
·         Spray fixative MATTE. (Not workable fixative.) https://www.utrechtart.com/products/krylon-1311-matte-finish/  
·         Acrylic paints. I love Golden paints, but you can bring what you have. If you are going to buy any paints for figurative work, I recommend Fluid Quinacridone/Nickel Azo Gold and Fluid Titan Buff by Golden. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/golden-fluid-acrylics/  
·         OPTIONAL: Golden Acrylic Flow Release. You can use your matte medium as a substitute.
·         Brushes including 2” finch (cheap) or house painting brush for gluing the collage down. https://www.utrechtart.com/items/06280-1019/  Small to medium size brushes for acrylic painting. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/blick-scholastic-wonder-white-brushes/
·         Scissors and sharp utility knife 
·         Photo reference for figures that the student would like to draw. Make sure that photo references are in focus and have a clear light source. It is very helpful to have color versions of the photo on a tablet or phone and black and white versions of each photo printed on regular inkjet paper.
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ghosttotheparty · 4 years
Text
cotton candy skies always look better in person
8. also on AO3 chapter seven
The way he said it in the text, you’d think Lucas has only drawn Jens once, but the truth is, he’s drawn him several times. Not that he’d tell him that, of course.
There’s a doodle from the cafe, and the one he did before he tossed the napkin, which was too wrinkled for his liking. There’s also the sketches of Jens copied from photos Lucas has of him, one of Jens’s silhouette against the sky, one of Jens smiling bashfully, one of Jens pretending to pose like a model. (Lucas had said, “Oh, perfect, you should try for Vogue.”) He’s also added some of his own touches to some of them, colouring Jens with abstract colours, lightly tracing music notes around his head like a crown, drawing sunflowers and daisies and roses around him.
Again, not that he’s ever planning on Jens, or anyone for that matter, ever seeing them.
Every sheet that he draws Jens on, every sheet that ends up covered in little sketches of him, is ripped out of his sketchbook and folded before being placed between the pages of his dictionary on his desk (which he really doesn’t even know why he has; he’s never used it for anything except storing secret drawing).
As he places the dictionary back on his desk, his door swings open and a head pops in, scanning the room until his cousin’s eyes land on him.
“Milan!” Lucas says, exasperated. “What did we say about knocking?”
“Sorry,” Milan says, clearly not. “Uh, I have some friends coming by. They should be here in a bit if you want to meet them before your daily jaunt.”
“Jaunt…” Lucas whispers to himself as he slides the book in all the way. “Yeah, sure.” He turns to face Milan and sees that he’s holding himself up as he leans into the room, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the knob.
“Cool! I’ve got one friend, I think you’ll like him, he’s an artist too.” He’s speaking rapidly, visibly excited. “He did the uh… You know what, I’ll let him tell you.” Before Lucas can respond, Milan is gone, the door shut behind him.
“Okay,” Lucas says after staring at the door for a second. He jumps on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and throwing himself onto his back, the thud loud around the room. The room is quieter than usual, his window closed to keep the cold out, but keeping the city sounds out as well. He can only faintly hear cars outside, covered by the window and walls, and the hum of his heater. (And Milan singing loudly in the kitchen but Lucas ignores that.)
Bored, he opens his chat with Jens and scrolls up to read their past messages.
A message from Jens reads:
My grandpa’s visiting so I’ve locked myself in my room
When he first read it, Lucas had considered asking why he didn’t want to be with his grandpa, but decided against it, replying Sounds lonely. What are you doing? to which Jens responded with a photo. The picture is of his leg, wrapped in dark fabric and his foot covered with a canvas ballet shoe, propped up on a wooden bar attached to the wall. The message under it read This, homework, and playing guitar for my sister. At the time, Lucas had smiled, typing Nice, lame, sweet. But now he opens the picture, raising the brightness of the screen and zooming in to see how the muscles of Jens’s leg twist, to see the contours of his leg as Jens points his foot. He wonders if Jens would ever let him take a photo of him doing ballet. It would make a great anatomy study. But it might sound like… something else, Lucas realises, clicking out of the picture and dropping his phone as his face flushes.
He pushes himself up, grabbing his satchel from the floor next to his bed, and stands, putting his phone in his pocket again, making his way to his desk and grabbing a thick sketchbook and several pencils and small brushes, tucking them into the bag with a small watercolour palette. He stands back and scans his desk, scouring it for anything else he might need. He tosses in an eraser before closing the bag.
He hears the front door open and a boy’s voice call, “Hello?”
Milan yells back, “Robbe!” loudly, and Lucas opens his door, looking down the hall to see a brown-haired boy wearing a beanie greeting Milan, smiling as Milan pecks his cheeks. The boy, Robbe, Lucas assumes, steps through the threshold as Milan hugs the boy behind him, a tall boy with white hair. He steps past and follows Robbe to the living room, Robbe reaching behind himself to hold the boy’s hand. Another boy steps in, a boy with curly hair and a big smile, and hugs Milan before he’s pushed out of the way by another, a boy with brown skin and short hair. He’s pretending to cry as he and Milan embrace each other.
“I missed you so much,” the boy sobs and Milan laughs as the curly-haired boy shakes his head and follows Robbe to the living room.
“You know you can come to see me whenever right?”
“Oh, be careful with that,” the boy states, dropping the act, and he pulls back, pausing so Milan can kiss his cheek. “I might just move into Robbe’s room.”
“You’re too late, it’s taken.” Milan looks back, seeing Lucas, and nods, gesturing for him to come forward. “My cousin’s moved in.”
Lucas grabs his bag before moving into the hall, dropping it to the floor by the front door.
“Moyo,” the boy says, and Lucas shakes his hand.
“Lucas.”
“What are you doing outside? Come in,” Milan says, leaning out the door, speaking to someone Lucas can’t see, and Moyo steps to the side to watch Milan.
“Sorry, I’m texting my mom,” a familiar voice says, and somehow Lucas’s heart drops and flies at the same time. “How are you?”
Jens steps through the door, a hand on Milan’s shoulder, and kisses Milan’s cheek as Milan kisses his.
“I’m alright, sweetie.”
Jens tucks his phone into his pocket as Milan shuts the door behind him and looks at Lucas, his eyes widening as he does a short double-take, but before Lucas can greet him or smile, Jens is holding his hand out.
“I’m Jens.”
Lucas shakes his hand hesitantly and furrows his brow at him. Jens doesn’t respond, his face blank.
“Lucas.” He gives Jens a tight smile as Milan turns to them, and Jens smiles back, the look on his face, his demeanour, unfamiliar, and kind of unnerving. Jens lets go of his hand and steps past him, following Moyo.
“Cutie, isn’t he?” Milan asks, seeing Lucas’s eyes follow Jens.
“I— Yeah. Yeah, he’s pretty.”
“Sander, Lucas is an artist,” Milan says as they enter the living room, and the white-haired boy looks at him, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Robbe’s leg is strewn across his lap, and Sander’s hands run up and down it as Robbe tosses his arm around his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair.
“Yeah?”
Lucas nods, glancing at Jens, who is sitting on the floor, and smiles.
“What do you do?” Sander asks.
“Uhm…”Lucas sits across from them on the floor. “Portraits, mostly.”
“Aren’t those really hard?” Moyo asks from his spot on the sofa.
“Eh, depends.” Lucas shrugs. “I also do some landscapes and stuff.”
“Have you ever done any live studies?” Sander asks.
“I’ve done, like, drawing people in front of me,” Lucas says. He can feel Jens watching him speak, and the air feels tight, tense, but none of the other guys seems to notice. “I’ve never done a nude study. I’d like to, though.”
“We do those at school sometimes, they’re fun.”
Lucas nods.
“You’ve probably seen one of Sander’s pieces, Lucas,” Milan says, and Lucas looks at Sander, confused. Sander is laughing softly, looking away, and Robbe pokes his cheek. The others are laughing, looking like they’re teasing Sander. Lucas can see Jens’s smile in his peripheral vision. “Sander, tell him!”
“Ahh…” Sander shakes his head, adjusting his seat on the sofa. “You’ve been down by the canal right?” Lucas nods. “You know that...giant mural of a face—” Robbe snickers next to him, “—it kinda looks like it’s coming out of the wall?”
Lucas thinks for a second before he remembers it, a mural of a boy’s face, breaking through the brick wall, the break shaped like a heart. He remembers staring at it for a while, wondering about the story behind it.
“No fucking way.” Lucas’s jaw drops as he smiles, and Sander nods, grinning bashfully. “That was you?”
“That was him,” Robbe says fondly, leaning over and kissing Sander’s pink cheek.
“Oh!” Lucas looks at Robbe’s face, really looking at him for the first time. “Oh, shit!” He points at him, realisation dawning on his face. “It’s you! I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Sander says as the boys all laugh. “My model.” He pats Robbe’s leg and Robbe gives him a look.
Lucas catches Jens glancing in his direction at the words, but ignores him. He zones out for a second, his eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him, the awkwardness between him and Jens becoming overwhelming.
“Do you guys want anything?” he says, accidentally interrupting Moyo. “Water, beer? I think we have cola?” He looks at Milan for confirmation and Milan nods.
“Can I have a cola?” Sander asks, and Lucas sees that his and Robbe’s legs are now tangled, Sander’s arm around Robbe’s waist nearly pulling him into his lap.
“Beer,” Robbe says, looking at Lucas as he stands, looking ta Moyo.
“Same.”
“Aaron?” Milan asks, and the curly-haired boy looks up from his phone.
“Uh, beer. Thanks.” He shoots Lucas a smile, and Lucas looks to Jens, trying to act normal.
“Oh, I can help you carry everything.” Jens uses the coffee table to push himself up and Lucas nods, turning to the kitchen.
“What about me?” Milan says behind him.
“You live here, I’m not hosting you.”
The door shuts behind him and Jens, drowning out the boys’ snickering and Lucas can feel Jens’s eyes on him. He ignores him, going to the fridge and pulling out a soda can and a beer, setting them on the counter before reaching in again. He doesn’t plan on talking to Jens. After all, they’re strangers now.
“Lucas.” Jens’s voice is low and rough.
And just like that, Lucas’s vow snaps like a taut rubber band.
“Is there a reason we suddenly don’t know each other?” he says, his back to Jens as he pulls out another beer.
“Look, I don’t…” Jens trails off and sighs. Lucas pulls out two more beers and slams the fridge shut, turning around. His lips press together as he looks at Jens, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin slightly. They stare at each other for a second and Jens’s shoulders drop, looking across the room at Lucas but looking like he’s looking up at him.
“Why don’t I know you?’ Lucas asks, and Jens doesn’t answer.
Sudden anger flares in Lucas and he looks away, tossing his hands.
“Whatever, Jens,” he says, resigned, and he turns to pick up the can and bottles on the counter, managing to pick up the bottle opener next to them, before turning back to Jens and stepping forward. He shoves a bottle into Jens’s hand, and apparently, no matter how angry Lucas is, Jens’s touch still brings sparks, because their fingers brush and Lucas nearly jerks his hand away, feeling like he’s been electrocuted.
“Lu, just—”
Lucas’s heart flutters at the nickname, and he pulls the kitchen door open, stepping into the living room.
“—to Noor?” Aaron’s voice says.
“We’re friends.” Moyo sounds exasperated, and all the guys hum, cocking their heads at him.
“Are you dure?” Milan says as Lucas leans in front of him, handing Sander the can and Robbe a bottle.
“I’m out,” Lucas says, nodding as Moyo says “Thanks,” after taking a bottle and the opener from Lucas’s hand. “I’m gonna try and paint before it rains.”
Jens takes his place on the floor, reaching up as Moyo passes him the bottle opener.
“Ooh, have fun,” Sander says, wincing as the can cracks open.
Lucas forces a smile and waves to them, leaving the room, not looking back. He snatches his bag from the ground and his jacket from the hook on the wall, and then swings the door open, calling “It was nice meeting you!” He gets a small round of “Bye!” in response.
If he had looked back while leaving the room, he would have seen Jens’s eyes following him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the beer bottle shaking in his hand.
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babbushka · 4 years
Text
Two’s Company (4/5)
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1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.
Chapter 4 of my sequel to Blue Moon
7.8k ; NSFW, angst
                                                    ------------------------
You made challah french toast, for breakfast. Pale ain’t never had it before you, before shackin’ up with you and lovin’ you and fuckin’ you all the time. He’d never even heard of it, figured the only french toast came from brioche. It wasn’t until one mornin’ when he was staying over at your shithole apartment across the street that all you had left in the kitchen was stale braided bread and eggs, a little milk and some cinnamon – and fuck, he was hooked.
It had been hard for him at first, hard for him to let you take over, hard for him to let you cook. He was just so used to doin’ everything himself, see? He was so used to bein’ responsible, bein’ in charge, bein’ the big shot – both in the kitchen and everywhere else. But you, you ain’t no fuckin’ wallflower, you ain’t no entitled bitch or nothin’, you want to help.
So over the year the two of yous have been together – which shit, he still can’t believe it’s been a year – he’s opened up, let you step into the kitchen every now and again. Let you make your challah french toast for him, let you let him kiss off the powdered sugar that always snuck up onto your face.  
It’s real fuckin’ bizarre sometimes, watchin’ you cook for him, watchin’ you do anything domestic really. You ain’t no housewife, not by a longshot, not with the way you were standing in front of the stove with your tits out, wearin’ nothin’ but a real soft and cozy pair of cotton panties. He thinks back to the very first morning, the very first time he ever fuckin’ met you, how you had hot oil splashing splattering onto your stomach, how you ain’t even winced once.
He knew then that you were somethin’ special, somethin’ once in a lifetime, something once in a blue moon.
“What’s goin’ on in that big head of yours?” You asked, turning to look at him from the stove.
He got all caught up in it, in the sight of you. It made his palms go clammy, and he nervously wiped them on the napkin he’s got draped on one of his thighs. He couldn’t possibly tell you all the shit that’s going on in his head, all the thoughts that are running through his mind, not right now.
He’s smokin’ his cigarette down as far as it can go, emotionally fried fritzed frazzled from the bullshit that was last night. He’s afraid if he starts gettin’ all lovey-dovey, he ain’t ever gonna stop, so instead of declaring his wild passionate fuckin’ love for you like some lunatic, he smokes some more.
“Nothin’ I’m just thinkin’ about how I’m fuckin’ starving over here.” He said back. It wasn’t a lie, not really, not too big of one anyway. “You almost done sweetheart? I feel like the god damned doorman downstairs can hear my stomach rumblin’, I’m withering away to nothin’, fading into fuckin’ obscurity. You making eggs too? Or nah because there’s already too many eggs in the batter? Do we even have any more eggs? I know I made the omlette for you the other day but I can’t for the fuckin’ life of me remember how many I used.”
“We have eggs,” You replied, took his fast-talkin’ easily, hands already reachin’ for the carton where he could sneak a peek at a couple brown shells nestled into the cardboard as you asked, “You want scrambled?”
“Yeah, with the – ” He started but you just tossed him a smile that shut him up real quick, just because fuck you’re so pretty.
“Whites fully cooked, I know honey.” You replied simply.
And wasn’t that something? Wasn’t it so fuckin’ crazy, that you knew? That you knew how he liked his eggs, that you knew what he meant whenever he was trying to say everything but his actual thoughts? He needed to get high, he thought to himself, needed to snort something straight up his fuckin’ nose or else he’d maybe lose it.
The bullshit with Barbie had him worried. It had him on edge, had him pissed the fuck off. Why did shit like this always happen to him, he thought to himself. Why did life gotta go and fuck up the one good thing he had – this thing with you.
He got up then, rummaged around in one of the drawers near where you’re standing, smacked your ass on the way. The little mirror and razor were right where he left them, the little thing of coke exactly where it should be. You don’t get bothered one bit by the way he bends over the mirror and sucks it straight up through the tight vacuum of a dollar bill. You only kissed him on the cheek as he went back to the table.
“Hey, I was thinkin’.” You started again, serving him up a big plate.
You did shit like this sometimes, little arrangements like this, on his plate for breakfast. Maybe to someone else it looked stupid, looked silly, but to Pale, the little banana smiley face with raspberry eyes coulda brought him to tears if he weren’t so out of salt.
“What were you thinkin’ baby?” Pale asked, feelin’ sweaty, feelin’ like he was on top of the world, like he was skyrocketing up up up into space. His veins were thrumming, and the slap of his hand on his thigh as he called for you to sit on his lap echoed like thunder in his ears.
“If the weather ain’t too bad today, maybe you and me take a trip to Jersey City. Go visit your brother.” You said, catching him entirely off-guard.
He had thought…well surely you hadn’t…he can’t wrap his brain around it. Around you. He coulda sworn, woulda bet money, that you had meant going to the cemetery in some abstract way. Some far away way, some hypothetical way. Not that you’d actually want to go now, go soon, go at all.
“You meant that?” He stared at you long and hard, but you ain’t acting like nothing out of the ordinary, you’re perfectly serious.
“We don’t have to, I just figured it’s been a long time since you’ve gone to see him, you know? Figured maybe since it’s Sunday and we don’t got shit to do anyway, it might be a nice opportunity.” You shrugged, scooping a big fork-ful of scrambled eggs into your mouth.
You’re looking at him with those soft eyes that has him pinching your nose hard, has him givin’ your face a little shake, because if he doesn’t, if he doesn’t get his hands on you and prove that you’re here, that you’re not just some hallucination of his drug-addled brain, he might scream.
“You do a lot of figurin’, huh?” Pale replied, and you laughed, kissed his cheek before sliding into the seat next to him at the table so he can have free mobility to cut up his food.
“I’m not just a pretty face you know.” You smirked, looking very much like the cat that got the cream, a damn spoiled princess.
“No, but you are real pretty.” He said, leaning over to lick at the corner of your mouth where some syrup had collected there, his teeth worrying you, making you laugh.
“Eat your eggs.” You shooed his face away for all of two seconds before cupping his cheeks with both hands and smacking a loud kiss to his lips that had the both of you shaking your head fondly at one another.
Despite that though, despite the kissin’ and the lovin’, and the frankly fuckin’ delicious breakfast you made for him, his blood ran cold. The thought of going to the cemetery, the thought of seeing the headstone…it churned his stomach. He hadn’t – there hadn’t been time – he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t know if he’d be welcome there, didn’t know if Robbie would want him, considerin’. But you’re right, it’d be good. It’d be real good. He should go, he could go, if you were with him.
“We can take the car, when we’re done eatin’. I’m sure you ain’t gonna want to stay there for too long, hangin’ around a fuckin’ graveyard in the cold and all, and god knows the public fuckin’ transportation would take hours to bring us there and back. I got a real good spot right on the street behind the building, it’s in the shade so the fuckin’ leather don’t fade or nothing – had to fight a guy for it, we played that stupid shitty game of who could round the corner first. I won because he was comin’ from the other fuckin’ direction and woulda had to make a three point turn, even though really it woulda been a fuckin’ ten-pointer or some shit like that. You know how tight that alley is.”
He doesn’t know how to shut up when he’s around you, doesn’t know how to get the words to slow down. Especially when the hit is so good, when he feels like king of the fuckin’ world, when he feels like there ain’t not one single ounce of bad on the whole planet. He’s rambling, he knows he is, isn’t even sure if he’s saying all this shit out loud, or if it’s all in his head.
It’s loud, either way.
It didn’t matter, either way.
“Remember when I sucked your dick in the Mickey-Ds drive through?” You asked, getting his attention, grabbing it in that way you’ve gotten real good at doing.
Sometimes he got too stuck in his own head, could go on and on and on and sometimes to a point where maybe he needed help getting out of it, needed help coming back to the present. You always did that for him, said some shit like that to jolt him out of a potential spiral.
He wanted to scream.
“Yeah that was hot.” He said instead, licking his lips instead, pulling you into his lap again instead. He didn’t like that, didn’ tlike that you went so far away, all the way in the seat next to him. His hands shook as he groped you, sucked more syrup off your tongue, wished it were your come. “You’re a perfect whore, ain’t ya?”
“Damn right I am.” You nodded, your shoulders curling in towards him, your tits pushing into his clammy hands. “And I’m yours.”
“Damn right you are.” He echoed you, kissed you hard.
God he was so fucking hard, had been hard for you the second you stood behind the stove, the second you started flipping the fuckin’ french toast. He had just fucked you, he knew that. It hadn’t even been an hour, and yet.
And yet.
Maybe it was the coke racing through him, maybe it was the way your skin looked so fuckin’ pretty in the sunrise of morning, maybe it was the way you were smilin’ at him, he didn’t fucking know. All he knew was that he was hard.
“Let me?” You asked, slinking down onto your knees, crawling under the table like you did at some of the fancy fucking restaurants he brought you to, settling between his sprawled legs.
In between the time he fucked you and the time you made breakfast, the two of yous had decided to put on some underwear. Pale wasn’t a stickler for too much, but food safety was one of the things he was bitchy about, adamant about, and he didn’t want your unprotected pussy anywhere near open flame.
He regretted that decision now, him wearin’ his fancy fuckin’ Versace briefs. He wished he were wearing Y-fronts or some shit like that, because you’re nuzzling your face into his dick, nosing and mouthing along the hard line of his cock, and he’s gotta fuckin’ stand up enough to shove the underwear down his thighs.
The second he does though, your mouth is on him like moth to a fuckin’ flame, and you blow him right there in the kitchen.
“God look at you, look at this perfect fucking slut. My slut, jesus your mouth is so good.” His head lolls back against the wooden frame of the chair, and he practically fuckin’ melts into your touch.
One of his hands shoves your head down further, makes you gag on his cock, makes spit and drool and slobber wet his stomach where you’re being pressed down down down. It’s music to his fuckin’ ears, and he ain’t in any position to stop the little thrusts of his hips when they come, when his cock demands to be buried as deep in your throat as he can.
“Yeah, that’s it, choke on my cock, fuckin’ gag on it, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He grunted.
Sometimes you look up at him, and he blows his load right away. Sometimes you’ll glance up at him through your lashes and you’ll look so thoroughly wrecked, so absolutely fuckin’ destroyed by his cock, that he can’t help it, can’t help but shoot his come all over you. Sometimes he comes down your throat, sometimes he comes across your cheek, sometimes he comes on your tongue.
He can’t fucking decide which one he wants now, but you’re looking at him, and he’s going to come in a fucking second because the coke is ripping through his system and his veins are burning and he’s so fucking hot, hot from the inside out, hot like the walls of your throat, your cunt. God he wishes he could fuck your cunt.
“Up, come on,” He urged as he pulled out of you suddenly, having made his decision, wanting to come in your pussy, stuff you full with it for the second time that morning.
He hoisted you up off the floor, and you already know what’s happening, already are bending yourself over the table easily for him as he scraped the chair against the flooring in his haste to come in you. There ain’t no better fucking feeling, he’s decided, than sinking his cock into your tight cunt and coming with your pussy clenching around him. Nothing could possibly beat it, nothing could even come close, he’s made up his mind.
That was, until the high from his coke started to fade, and you shimmied your hips back against him, your soft ass rubbing against his abs from where he’s still buried inside you, and you grin at him as he dumps his come into you.
That smile would always be the best, he thinks.
                                                     ------------------------
When he’s calm enough to drag you into the big fancy fuckin’ shower, when he’s dressed, when you’re waiting with a hand outstretched and a smile, the two of yous leave the apartment.
His car is parked right where he fuckin’ left it, thank god. Ain’t no scratches or anything on it either, which is always something he’s worried about. Whether they were accidental or malicious, he think he’d burn the fuckin’ building down if someone scratched his car.
You don’t say nothin’ much on the drive out of town. It ain’t too far, a little less than an hour with little traffic. You don’t say much, just let him talk, let him get his nerves out. Fuck he was so nervous – he didn’t think he would be, not after the good morning he had, but he is.
“He loved peonies.” Pale said randomly, referring to the flowers he had stopped to pick up on the way.
He ran his hand through his hair at a red light as the two of you sit listenin’ to the classical music he’s got playing from the tape player in the dashboard. You’ve got your hand in his, and you give it a squeeze, something small and affectionate that has him nervous.
“He liked the pink ones, ever since he was a kid. We had a little garden, nothin’ too fancy or nothin’. But ma would tend to it and Robbie always asked her to cut some of the pretty pink peonies to put in the vases in the house, and she always would.”
“A garden sounds real nice. We didn’t have a very big backyard growin’ up, but most of the space was used for the above-ground pool.” You replied, reaching up with your free hand to tuck some hair behind his ear.
“You like swimmin’?” He asked you, practically floorin’ it when the light turned green again, the steady feeling of road under his feet helping along with the very presence of you to attempt to soothe him.
“In the summer-time, yeah.” You nodded, spoke softly, quietly. He appreciated that, he thought to himself, appreciated your delicacy. Fuck knows Pale ain’t never been delicate in his whole life.
“I’m gonna take you to the beach, bring you out to Montauk, to the beaches.” He said, eyes on the road, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the cars in front of him.
He’d been wantin’ to take you somewhere nice and warm for a while, wanted to take you all over the country, all over the whole globe. He wanted to see you in the bright sunshine and the sparkling water, wanted to see you the way he saw you in his dream, lips dark red with cherry cola and bruised up from his own teeth.
“Okay.” You replied with a smile, “Only if you go in the ocean with me.”
“Course, who the fuck else is gonna protect you from gettin’ eaten up by the sharks?” Pale scoffed, as if that much were obvious, as if he’d let you go too far away from him. Couldn’t have you getting’ drowned or eaten up – he was the only one allowed to eat you.
You gave him a look though, readin’ him in a way that he still doesn’t really know how you do it, and you give his hand another squeeze. When he looked at you, spared a glance to your pretty face from the road, he don’t find that soft affectionate smile, he finds sad eyes.
“What’s the matter?” You asked.
He huffed out a long breath, let the tension in his shoulders try and melt away. Of course you could tell something was off, you could always tell. You probably knew right from when he was all antsy and shit at the kitchen table. He couldn’t get anything past you, not that he wanted to.
He didn’t want to.
“I don’t know, I’m nervous.” He said, under-fuckin’-statement of the century. “I ain’t seen him since he died, you know? I haven’t, there hadn’t been any time to go visit, between the fuckin’ restaurant and meetin’ you and the composing. I – you know I meant to. I meant to go see him, I don’t know where the year went, how it flew by so fuckin’ fast.”
You nodded, understanding, always so understanding.
“We can sit in the car for a minute, when we get there. It’s okay.” You assure him, wanting him to have all the time he needs. You were good about that – you’re good about everything – giving him the time he needs. “There ain’t no rush honey, no worries.”
And he snorts a dark laugh at that, because there really ain’t a rush when you’ve got an appointment with the dead, is there?
“What if he don’t want to see me?” He asked, mostly to himself, mostly the get the fear off his chest.
Because he knew, deep down he knew, there were reasons why.
“Did you always know? That he was gay I mean.” You asked, as he gets off the main road, as he follows the signs for the cemetery.
You ain’t the only ones taking the opportunity of a Sunday afternoon to go pay respects. He didn’t know if he liked that better or worse, there being other people there. Didn’t know if he wanted them all seeing him, didn’t know if he wanted witnesses to his own grief.
“Yeah.” Pale said soft, real soft, his heart beating at the memory of it all as he slows the car down, searches the parking lot for a fucking space. He felt like he spent most of his god damned adult life, just looking for a place to park.
“Yeah I knew. We all knew, even though he didn’t really tell nobody about it. I was worried, you know? Worried for him for a long fuckin’ time. I wasn’t too nice about it, because I was so worried. It makes me a shit brother, I know. I wish I wasn’t so not-nice. I thought the mob had done it, when I first heard he had died. Thought for fuckin’ sure they had put a hit out on him, on his boyfriend or somethin’. We got mob ties in the family, I ain’t crazy, I know what they think of gay kids like Robbie was. That’s why I think he don’t want to see me, because of how not-nice I was.”
Pale rushed the words out, worried that if he stopped he’d scream, if he stopped you’d have time to call him an asshole, a jackass, a bastard. Because he’s said shit, done shit, shit he ain’t proud of.
Even as an adult, even when there was Larry and –
He cut that train of thought off straight away. He didn’t want to think about some dancer in a loft somewhere, or how sore his heart had been for some love when he met her. No, he’s got no use for those memories, he thought to himself, as he put the car into park.
But you don’t call him an asshole, or a jackass, or a bastard. You don’t even frown at him.
“You can’t change what happened in the past, you can only learn and grow from it.” You say, after some consideration. He didn’t know why his heart was beatin’ like he had snorted another bump, had licked up the coke from under his nails, had picked it out from between his teeth. Because he hadn’t, but you, you gave him that rush, all the time.
“And you have, you know? You have. You ain’t the same person you were, don’t got the same thoughts about it. I know you don’t.” You continued, giving him one of your looks that he swore went straight through to his soul, if he ever had one.
“Feels like it don’t matter now though. He’s gone now.” Pale whispered, not really one for bein’ too quiet or nothing.
He turned the car off, the engine cutting and making it so much more quiet than Pale ever really had experienced before. Even in the church for the funeral, it wasn’t this quiet. You glance back to the bouqet of peonies that Pale had lovingly buckled in the backseat.
“Maybe, but someone becoming a better person isn’t ever in vain.” You replied, looking back to him, telling him it was okay, he was okay, you were with him.
He didn’t know what the fuck he’d do with himself, if you weren’t with him.
“I think I’m okay to go over now.” He sighed, squinting up at the sky.
It wasn’t set to snow or nothin’, not set to rain. It was cold out, but it wasn’t bitter, wasn’t frigid. Something in Pale made him wonder if Robbie had done that for him, for you, had wanted the weather to be nice for the visit. Maybe he was crazy.
He didn’t know.
“Want me to carry the flowers honey?” You asked, unbuckling your seat-belt, smiling at him, proud of him.
You knew, he knew you knew that this was hard, this was tough. You had never even met the guy, but you didn’t have to to know it was tough.
“No, I got it.” He said, shakin’ his head and getting out of the car too. He watched you walk around the front of the car, watched you adjust the lapels on your trench coat and watched you fix the fingers of your gloves so you wouldn’t get nothin’ like frostbite or nothin’, and in watchin’ you fix your gloves he chewed his lip, “Could you just…”
“Yeah?” You asked, when he trailed off, when he had a hard time finishing the question.
“Just hold my fuckin’ hand, would you?” He finally spit it out.
You could have mocked him for it, he knows. You could have teased and laughed all good-naturedly like you do, because he’s always complainin’ that all you ever want to do is hold his fucking hand. He’s always grumbling grunting bitching moaning about how he ain’t never held someone’s hand as much as he holds yours. But you don’t, you don’t mock him for it, and doesn’t even know why he thought you would.
You’re too good for him, he knew that.
He loves you, he knew that too.
                                                   ------------------------
It took a while, to find the headstone. The fuckin’ cemetery had a map, that’s how big it was. A morbid “you are here” pointin’ to the parkin’ lot, listing and charting out all the different pathways leading to all the different graves.
But you ain’t in any rush, just like you said, and in the time it took to find the headstone, all you did was hold his hand. The cemetery was busy, but not so busy that it was loud. Somethin’ about it made Pale’s heart kinda heavy, but kinda light at the same time. So many people all comin’ to see someone they lost. Maybe they lost ‘em last week, maybe they lost ‘em ten years ago, he didn’t fuckin’ know. But he liked that whoever they were, they had people who still cared enough to visit.
He felt real fuckin’ bad, waiting so long before visiting.
The whole thing hits him all over again, when he finds it, the headstone. There it was, shiny and polished, looked after. It had his name etched into it, had the dates he had graced this planet, and Pale didn’t even realize it when the cold thing of a tear slipped down his cheek.
You’re standing with him, your hand in his, your head resting on his shoulder. You’re standing there and you’re cryin’ too. You ain’t never even met him, but you didn’t have to, to cry.
Pale took in a deep breath, let it out real slow and shaky, didn’t even fuckin’ bother to hide it. He wanted a cigarette, he wanted to kiss you. He didn’t know what he wanted.
He wanted his brother back.
There are peonies placed at the grave already, proof of someone else already bein’ there, already havin’ visited. He wondered when they had come, wondered when they had visited, how often. He wondered who it was, which of his family. Wondered, given the nature of things, if it were any of his family at all.
Well, he thought to himself as he sniffed up some tears that leaked outta his nose, Jimmy was here now for him.
Pale placed the new bouquet right next to the old one, chewed his lip as he tried figuring out how to prop them up nicely. Robbie woulda known how to do it, how to arrange them, he thought with a small smile, he woulda known how to make it look nice.
You surprised him then, by stepping forward. You look around the headstone, searching for something. He frowned when you picked up a rock, big and smooth, weathered by the snow and rain and fuck knows what else. You placed the rock on top of the headstone, placed it carefully, before stepping back and regaining hold of his hand.
“What’s that for?” He wondered aloud, searching your face.
“There are men with hearts of stone, and stones with the heart of men.” You said easily, the two of your regarding the little rock, your own small offering to a man you never knew. “Flowers wilt and fade, but stones don’t die, and neither will our memory of him.”
He nodded, suddenly getting choked up about it, about it all over again.
The two of yous were quiet for a long time, just standing there, each in your own bubble. Pale can’t help but think about the whole life he knew with his brother, his baby brother, little Robbie.
“It wasn’t a boat crash, you know.” Pale said, lighting a cigarette.
It wasn’t a crash, wasn’t anything that dramatic. He wished it were, wished it were something that instant, something that sudden, not the slow painful death of disease and decay that it had really been. No one wanted to talk about that, about the disease, but Pale knew.
“I know.” You said, because you knew too.
                                                   ------------------------
He didn’t really know what the difference was, anymore. Couldn’t tell sometimes with how fucked up he got, what was real and what wasn’t. He thought he was in a dream, was pretty sure he’s in a dream, because it’s too fuckin’ sunny for Queens that time of year, too warm. He’s sweatin’, he could feel that, knows that that’s real. His eyes were closed, in the maybe dream, they’re closed but everything was still too bright, like a sun that didn’t want to just go behind a fuckin’ cloud already. He’s sweatin’ and smokin’ a cigarette, eyes shut tight against the sun and something – someone was playin’ with his hair, was laughin’ at the faces he’s makin’, and he thought that if this is a dream, suddenly it’s a good one, because you’re there.
He dared to open his eyes in the dream, dared to squint at the too-blue world around him. Definitely a dream then, he thought, because there ain’t no way Queens was this blue – not even in the summer. It’s you, because of course it is, and you were sipping dark cherry soda that stained your tongue all red, made your teeth pink from it. He’s blinded from the sunshine of your fuckin’ smile, the whole of his vision nothin’ but you, but the way your hair fell forward and framed your face.
He wrestled you down on top of him in his own mind, yanked your head down by the scruff of your neck to plant a sticky kiss to your lips, a kiss that had you melting against him like you were putty in his hands, because you were. His good girl, you were.
He kissed you under the blazing heat of the sun, tongue sliding against yours in the dream until it ain’t just a dream anymore, and that hot sunshine fades away, and he grew more and more aware of the real world around him, grew more and more aware of you really climbing all over him, of you really kissin’ on him.
“Pale honey, you gotta get up.” Your voice echoed in his head, and he fought against it, fought against the urge to wake up and face the fuckin’ day when all he wanted was to spend the whole time with you.
But it was Monday, and Monday meant work managing the diner, and work at the diner meant he needed to get the fuck out of bed and away from your arms and he’s already frownin’ when he felt the last of that brightness slip away.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He grumbled, scrubbed a hand down his face and groaned out in aggravation, “Why’d I give myself these hours?”
He knew it was too fuckin’ early, it had to be. The sun wasn’t even over the damn skyline yet, the birds weren’ fuckin’ chirpin’, no one was awake – so why the hell was he?
“Because you’re a hard workin’ man. Go on.” You smiled at him, and dammit that smile really just made everything better, didn’t it?
It had to have, because soon enough he was smoothin’ his big hands up your sides, up your stomach from where you were straddling his hips, and he had half a mind to fuck you real hard right there, just like that. From his view your tits were beggin’ to be bitten, to be touched, and he sat up to bury his face in your cleavage, unable to resist.
“Honey,” You nudged him gently, scratched at his scalp with one hand and tried to untangle his long limbs from around your middle with the other.
“Nah you gotta come with.” He sniffed and snuffled and grumbled, only burying his face deeper into your flesh, reveling in the way they pressed against his cheeks, how he could barely breath, suffocatin’ from your perfect fuckin’ tits. “I ain’t gettin’ up without you.”
“Alright alright, I’ll come.” You laughed, practically pryin’ his head away from you by his hair, greasy and in desperate need of a wash. He could feel it, could feel the locks goin’ piecey, but he didn’t fuckin’ care, he’d have breakfast and then rail you and then fuck you in the shower, that was all. He’s so trans-fuckin’-fixed by the way your naked body looks as you climb off of him and slide off the bed, that he almost misses it when you ask, “Coffee?”
The thought of caffeine suddenly sounds fuckin’ divine, and he’s throwin’ off the single bedsheet away from his overheated body real quick to pad across the cold floor and follow you out the door and into the kitchen.
“Yeah.” He yawns, agitated and aggravated and really just wantin’ to fuck you over the counter. Maybe he would, especially with the way you’re lookin’ as you reach into one of the cabinets and pull out the coffee grounds. He huffs to himself, steals a cigarette from the stash he keeps in the kitchen, lights it on the stove and puffs out a few plumes of smoke before chucklin’ dryly to himself and sayin’, “You know I used to hate coffee?”
He expected you to be scandalized at that, or even surprised, even just a little shocked. With how much coffee he consumes now, but all you do is laugh brightly as you measured out the perfect amount of grounds to chuck into the coffee filter, throwin’ a smile over your shoulder when you tell him,
“I know.”
“Bullshit, how’d you know?” He asked, comin’ round the small island to stand too close behind you, pressed himself right up against you as you poured water from the sink into the pot to pour through the filter too.
“First night I was here, not a single fuckin’ box of joe anywhere. Nothin’ but tea.” You laughed again, wriggled your hips against his dick, the two of yous still very naked. You had a bad case of the giggles this mornin’ apparently, and Pale was far too amused to really put a real stop to it, so all he does instead is pull your back to his chest and clamp a hand over your throat so he could feel the way your laugh vibrated through his sweaty palm.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny about that?” He asked, lettin’ his other hand wander down down down your body, ‘till his fingers were toying right with the folds of your cunt.
He could finger you like this, he really could, and he does, because your laughs are breathless until they’re not laughs at all, until they’re just moans. Music to his fuckin’ ear, he thinks, as he fingers you, could let out a laugh of his own with the way you press your ass harder against his cock, cock that was now rigid and full just for you.
“I’m just picturing you with your big hands holding a tiny teacup.” You said between all your little gasps and moans, still got some frame of mind to be real fuckin’ smart as you grin up at him with your head on his shoulder, nipples rock hard against the chill of the air when you ask, “Do you want tea?”
He sucked his teeth, turned you around and hoisted you up on that very same counter, and you made a playfully annoyed face at the way the cold granite hit your bare ass for only a moment before he’s prying your knees apart, dragging you to the edge so he can line the head of his cock up real nice.
“Nah, coffee’s fine.” He said as he pushed himself all the way in, all in in one big slow strong thrust that had your nails digging into his back, had your mouth droppin’ open into that pretty little face you make whenever he gets his cock in you.
“But you hate it.” You said around your big sigh of pleasure, shifting around to give him a better angle, letting yourself lay back against the cabinets, careful not to smack your head.
He started thrusting in earnest then, wrapped your legs around his hips and made you hold his cigarette for him as he sucked dark red marks into your throat, your shoulders. He wanted to splay you out real pretty and fuck you with his face in your tits but the cabinet was in the fuckin’ way and he wasn’t in the mood to move you.
“I used to.” He groaned, groaned when your tongue and lips laved themselves over the gold chain necklace he wore every day, the same fuckin’ one you had clasped around your throat, matching like two sides of the same damn coin. He groaned and fucked you harder, punched moans out of you, your hands scrabbling for purchase on his back, scracthin’ him up, stingin’ him real nice when he says, “I like the way you brew it.”
“I just – oh Pale! Harder – I just push buttons on the machine.” Your throat clicked and he spit in your open mouth, gave you somethin’ to swallow, and you did, you always did.
“Yeah well you do a real good fuckin’ job.” He panted into your mouth, makin’ your face pinch up in that way that meant you were gonna come soon, and he loves the feeling of you comin’ but he decided in that moment that he loved the taste of it even better, and since this was supposed to be breakfast and he was starvin’, he wasted no time in pullin’ out of you just as your pussy started to gush.
“Pale!” You cried out in dissatisfaction at being so empty all of a sudden, so empty right when you needed him, so empty right as you came, but he only bit the inside of your thigh hard to shut you up and let you know somethin’ good was coming.
He shoved his tongue deep into your cunt, his nose rubbing up against your clit making you moan out high and loud, already over the edge and this just makin’ it even more fuckin’ good. His tongue stroked your walls while his hands were busy steadying himself against your thighs – steadying you so you wouldn’t go kneeing him in the fuckin’ face or nothing.
When your pussy had stopped pulsing around his mouth, he pulled back enough to jerk himself off. He pressed one of your knees down against the counter to keep your legs spread, and with his other hand stroked himself right to the edge, right to where his balls were tightening up and his stomach went all hot and he knew he was gonna come – and then he nudged the tip of his cock right back into you, shot his load inside you.
He fucked it into you, just a few lazy hazy dreamy thrusts, just enough to really get it deep in there, into that cunt he was so fuckin’ addicted to.
He came in you and stayed in you for a long while, until the coffee pot beeped and you couldn’t help but break out into a sweaty laugh, hair sticking to your face and your eyes too fuckin’ bright. Pale didn’t laugh, still too wrapped up in the feelin’ of you around him, but he did suck his teeth again, the sight of you bein’ so sweet too much for him.
“Come here, gimme a kiss.” He said, as if you were so far away and not warmin’ his cock right on the counter.
But nevertheless you sat up enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissed him square on the lips over and over until his tongue decided to make an appearance once again, made you taste yourself on him, made you moan.
“You gonna drive into the city?” You asked, breakin’ away to breathe for a minute, and Pale groaned, forgetting all about work.
“Nah, I’m takin’ the train.” He said instead, runnin’ his hand through his hair, knowin’ he needed to really get a fuckin’ move-on with the shower and the changin’ and all the other morning routine bullshit.
“Will you walk with me to the diner, or’s there no time?” You asked, suddenly shy for some fuckin’ reason.
“There’s time, of course there’s fuckin’ time. Of course I’ll walk with ya, I always walk with ya.” He said, cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissin’ you real hard, wantin’ to wash away whatever worry that was that he saw flashing in your eyes.
He didn’t want you worryin’ about nothin’ – about him, or fuckin’ Barbie, or no one else. He’d walk you like he always walked you.
“Okay okay.” You smiled against his lips, laughing when he got too insistent, when those hips of his started to move again, his cock still in you, growin’ hard again, “Okay!”
“Okay?” He asked, wantin’ to make sure you were fine, you were happy. He’d kill someone, anyone, for you if you were unhappy.
But you smiled again and even though he had his cock in you, even though you could feel his big fuckin’ muscles all around you, you leaned over on the counter and plucked up the empty mugs you had washed last night, poured you and him a couple cups o’ joe, and handed one to him like the two of yous were sittin’ at a booth in the diner, and not stark fuckin’ naked in his kitchen.
“Okay.” You said, clinking the mugs together in a little toast to the morning.
And maybe he did hate coffee at one point, but as he slips and slides out of you with a groan, he found he don’t mind the dark roast so bad anymore, not when it’s you who’s makin’ it.
                                                   ------------------------
Later, when you’re cleaned up and blow-dried real pretty, he does walk with you like always. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous to go out by yourself, especially around here, around these parts. He snorted to himself as he smoked his cigarette, wind biting at where his face was exposed, he sometimes had no fuckin’ clue what he was sayin’ – around these parts. What was he, from some god damned wild west flick starrin’ the one and only Clint Eastwood?
You gave him a funny glance at the sound of his snort, and he gave you one right back.
“You lookin’ at me like that?” He asked, playful but with a scowl on his face.
“Yeah, what’re you gonna do about it?” You asked, swinging your joined hands back and forth, back and forth – until Pale let go of you long enough to snatch you around your thighs and chuck you over his shoulder, making you squeal out a laugh and a, “Pale!”
He carried you like that for a minute or two, gave your body a shake making you laugh and laugh, before setting you down on the sidewalk carefully.
“Yeah yeah keep teasin’ me doll, watch what happens.” He said, smoking around his smile, not wantin’ no one to see.
He had no fuckin’ clue how he got so lucky with you. Every day felt like a dream, no lie, no joke. But you laughed with him instead of at him and you were the first person to do that in damn near a decade, at least to do it and really mean it. You were the first person to really mean anything, to him.
“You know it’s really too fuckin’ cold out here, you sure you don’t want my jacket?” Pale asked, cigarette glowing red in the grey air, snow falling but not harshly enough to cancel work or nothin’, “Because honestly the last fuckin’ thing I need is for you to get sick or somethin’, now I know it’s big on ya but I don’t care I think you should wear it, at least ‘til we get to the diner. Fish keeps the heat on in there right? You won’t be freezin’ or nothin’ behind the milkshake counter? Do people even drink milkshakes in this hour? Maybe if he keeps the heat on they do. Hey did you know – ”
“Shit!” You suddenly dipped out of view, not that you managed to obstruct his vision too much anyway, bein’ much shorter than him.
But you were cursin’ on the ground, having landed flat on your ass, wincing.
“Fuck – (Y/N), you okay?” He rushed to help you up, steadied you with his hands on your arms, and you were only laughin’ again.
You were always easy breezy.
He thought about the way you had looked Saturday night, a woman possessed, and his chest filled with pride, with adoration. You were so sweet, so soft and patient and kind, but you knew how to fuckin’ throw hands and he respected that in a woman.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Damn ice.” You brushed the snow off your ass, made sure none of it melted into your coat. You still wore it, that red trench coat, the one you had bought second hand from who the fuck knows where.
He still thought you should be wearin’ his leather jacket instead.
“You want me to beat the shit out of it?” He asked, jokingly, glad about your good mood. He didn’t ever want you shoutin’ like you’d been shoutin’, ever again.
“Yeah honey, let’s go fight Jack Frost.” You rolled your eyes, and began swatting at his arm when he immediately began to punch the snow in front of yous.
“I’ll fuck him up you know I will.” Pale joked back, face schooled real serious.
“Yeah I bet you will hot shot.” You bump your hip against his, and the two of you chuckled, breath foggin’ up in the cold.
He walked with you, always. Wouldn’t miss opportunities like this for the world, not for one fuckin’ second.
And when you laughed with him, when you held his hand, when you kept up with him bright as a tack and twice as sharp, he coulda woulda vowed then and there to walk with you to the ends of the earth.
                                                   ------------------------
Tagging some Pale lovin’ pals! <3  @fullofbees @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes  @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @riseofkylo @whiskey-bumblebee @helloimindelaware @mandowhoreian @ah-callie @proxyfoxy​
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ojariya · 4 years
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stedes-black-bonnet · 5 years
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My Baby Does Me: Chapter 3
POV: John Deacon x reader
Notes: continuing fic, long-term, on-going &c. Am I the only one kinda loving Jim? Any desire for a separate fic starring Jim Hutton??? Let me know???
Warnings: high quality hand holding? Drinking.
Abstract: You and John Deacon exchange hands; a certain blond drummer interrupts the whole some enchanted evening thing.  
You leaned into John Deacon. His skin smelled of cardamom. Unexpectedly rich and earthy all at once. More of that tricky dichotomy. You saw the texture of his button-down, cotton and clean, and you could spot the lone speck of lint on his necktie. You could see his pores, quite small--lucky him, you thought. You saw the small spot on his neck where he nicked himself shaving that morning. You could see the natural auburn color of his hair; a hair color most women would sell their first born child to have. You kept leaning in, until you saw the saw the exact color of his eyes. You weren’t sure you could even call it exact since they were chameleon eyes. They changed, you figured, with the light. One second more blue, another more teal, always undercut with a steely grey. The color of storm clouds in autumn. His smile had become serious, curious.
The distance between you became alive; it was tangible, and you swore you could feel the air between you pressing in, pulling you towards each other against your wills. No, you knew that was a lie; you both wanted this, there was nothing about this remotely resembling against anyone’s will. You were dancing without moving. If distance were measured in dreams, you’d be perpetually anchored on the precipice of your heart’s desire. This was the verge of something new. You were ready to risk big to get big. You didn’t want to merely impress him with your boldness, you wanted to catch him off guard; you found you learned more about person doing something unexpected than what they figured you’d do. You were the element of surprise. Calling his bluff you continued to lean in.
Close to his lips, you angled you neck up slightly. A fraction of a breath from touching his flushed cheek with your lips. One turn, and his lips would be on yours. You could have kissed him. You wanted to kiss him. This was the essence of power, you thought. Being able to kiss someone you wanted to kiss, who very well probably wanted desperately to kiss you too, and then finding the self-control to prolong the moment, to stretch it out to infinity, to a place that existed beyond time. To fully live in a moment, and not give into it, that must be power.
His hand was still lightly cupping your chin, he could have tilted your head, too. Tilted it to the kissing point, the point of no return, but he didn’t do that either. You guessed this had nothing to do with desire or courage; this was deliberate for you both. A deliberate choice to wait. You could feel his breath on your cheek, and with each slow rhythm, a baseline unheard before, a part of your resolve surrendered. That was when his hand dropped from your chin to find one of your hands.
Deacon’s hand rested on yours, which rested on one of your thighs. This small gesture was quite sensational. It was as if all your nerve endings, all your mind’s prowess, your heart, and everything you were was all concentrating on the sensation of this layered and delicate touch. Breathing didn’t matter anymore, your beating heart ceased to be of concern; his hand on yours, covering your hand, innocently and deliberately touching your thigh was the only experience you cared about. Music, you thought, surely could never express this event. Words had never failed you, music had never escaped your interpretation, and yet you now found yourself up against an ineffable person performing an ineffable act all within the boundaries of a matter of seconds on inches of skin.
John was impressed. He sensed you were both playing the same winning hand. He found most stalemates were useless; someone always left disappointed, unfulfilled, unsatisfied, but this was something else entirely. The woman before him had been intimidated--starstruck, even--only seconds before, too sweetly shy to look into his eyes, but now! you were on the attack, poised to kiss, and yet frozen, waiting for him to make the first move. You were shrewd, a characteristic he liked to a fault. Holding your hand, all he could contemplate was kissing you someplace private, so the moment would be only yours, where no one but you and he would have the memory of it ever happening; a beginning belonging only to you. This romanticized notion was the only barrier keeping him from kissing you immediately in this bursting room.
He tried to distract himself with finding the perfect word for the color of your hair. Licorice maybe? He thought of his leather jacket, well-worn, dependable--maybe that was the color of your hair? Onyx, perhaps? He could be buried in your hair, and count himself a happy man, he thought. These thoughts were not helping his excitement or anticipation. You were as clear to him now as any song he had written, as any memory he had. What were memories before you?
This was foolish, he reminded himself. Did he even know your name? And that’s when you said:
“You want to kiss a woman you know
nothing about?” It wasn’t a whisper, but closer to an accusation, and it was meant only for him.
“A woman I know nothing about?” He sounded suspicious, it was the soft sound of rubbing crushed velvet; a secret promise was hidden in his question. He pulled away from your closeness, keeping his hand on yours. “A woman I know nothing about?” he questioned again, a clever smile appeared on his face, and you knew he had you.
Deacon gently turned your hand over in his, and he touched your fingertips. “Calluses,” he said simply. “This tells me you’re a musician.” He sheepishly showed you the calluses on his own hands. He then looked in your eyes, “and the fact you’re wearing glasses at a party tells me you either hate contact lenses, or aren’t vain enough to want to wear them; I think it’s the latter. You blushed when we spoke initially, which means to me I either said something you didn’t like, or something you liked a little too much. And the fact that I haven’t blushed merely due to our proximity shows me I want to, more than anything, impress you.”
This last statement shocked you, “You, a rock-star, want to impress me?”
The truth of this he couldn’t deny.
And that’s when John Deacon blushed.
You squeezed his hand in yours (how long had you been touching hands, you wondered?) and snorted at the absurdity of the situation. When he continued to gaze at you, you worried he thought you were laughing at him; he studied you so closely, as if he were trying to guess your mind.
He chuckled, without pretension, to himself, “You’re right. It sounds ridiculous out loud.”
“I can’t think of a confession you could make that would be foolish, John Deacon.” You slip your hand holding into a handshake. “My name is Y/N L/N, and I can’t think of anything less ridiculous than meeting you here tonight.”
That happened to be when a chandelier, ridiculously, fell from the ceiling six rooms away and one story up; but the circumstances of that, for now, were unknown to you, and blissfully unimportant.
Though Deacon had his suspicions he knew exactly what had occurred, he chose to ignore the hullabaloo in favor of you.
Smiling at the inherent music in your name, he repeated it. “Y/N, this cannot be the last time I see you, the last time we talk.”
“Is there a danger of that?” You asked, somewhat sadly.
“If we get separated, or pulled apart by...others.”
“I can give you my phone number?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you have anything I can write on?”
His body language was immediately crestfallen. A songwriter with no paper, no pen. Maybe, he feared, he was just a hack.    
 Jim had been watching you both. His drink, held forgotten in his hand, was untouched. You were his favorite show, a story he couldn’t get enough of. He couldn’t wait to tell Freddie, perhaps the only other person in the world who wanted to see Deacy find happiness more than Jim did. Freddie would be so obnoxiously jealous knowing Jim had maybe set this all into motion.
That’s when Jim passed you a napkin and a pen.
You and John turned to look at Jim concurrently.
“Really, if you expected me to leave and give you privacy, Deacy, you aren’t as quick-witted as I tell everyone you are.” Jim was shaking his head in mock-disappointment.
Deacy laughed, and you found yourself craving his laugh the more you heard it. It was a crackling fire, a waspish wind. You took the napkin and wrote your number on it. For good measure, you added your name, and “the girl who leaned in” just to cover your bases. You handed it to Deacy.
He studied your handwriting, all loops and hard-pressed upon the paper as if you were afraid the ink would vanish before he could read it. He put the napkin in his jeans pocket, and lifted his glass to you.
“I have an amendment to your toast, if that’s acceptable?”
“Impress me, Deacy.”
He blushed at the use of his nickname. It had never sounded so alive as when you said it; it was an endearment, he thought, in your voice from your lips. Lips he had been so close to touching. A keen ache shot through his chest, then. A longing he didn’t entirely understand yet.
“To the girl who leaned in.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Jim reached his glass out to Deacy’s so fast you couldn’t tell who was more invested in the proceedings, you or him.
You lifted your glass, too, laughing with Jim and the rock-star.
Your glasses clinked like an unspoken contract beyond “let’s drink” or “to your health.” It was a contract of kismet.   
Jim’s attention shifted, and suddenly he made an exasperated sound, and the look on his face switched from enjoyment to well-humored annoyance. You followed the direction of his gaze, beyond Deacy’s shoulder.
“Oh my god!” You whispered, lifting a hand to your mouth. And that’s when a blond God came into the room and your life forever.
His black blazer had lapels spangled in rainbow sequence, and his colored sunglasses couldn’t hide the blue of his eyes. He was almost too gorgeous to be legal. He was danger personified. He rushed over to Deacy, and as he crossed the room, everyone in an expanding wave, from a ground zero starting at the one and only Roger Taylor, people lost track of their conversations, their dance steps halted mid-move. Momentarily, all action paused. It was as if he spread exceptionally temporary acute amnesia with him wherever he went. He was bewildering. In view, as he passed, all was forgotten, and then seconds later all returned to business as usual. People took up their conversions, dances resumed. Though it was as if some forgotten knowledge was omnipresent now: Roger was in this room, Roger could be won in this room.
You had never seen someone so aggressive without being angry in your life. Was this passion, perhaps? You could see what Lydia saw in him. Deacy, still looking at you, perhaps read some of this on your face, for lines creased between his eyebrows that told you he was resigned to this, used to this, expected this even--he thought you wanted Roger now. Who wouldn’t? You, more than Deacy knew yet, appreciated how hard it was having a best friend who was, through no fault of their own, naturally stunning. You chose this moment to wink at Deacy.
He winked back, and the insecurity slipped away just as fast as it had appeared.
“Let me guess…” he sighed.
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll hold you in suspense for long.” Jim rolled his eyes, sipping his drink.
“DEACY, mate--” Roger benevolently put a hand on Deacy’s shoulder and stood between the two of you. “Listen, if you had been there,” he shifted his lingering eyes to you, “instead of chatting up this lovely bird,” then back to Deacy, “I SWEAR, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I highly doubt that.” Deacy ran a hand through his hair, which springed about in sympathy.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about yet.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“I just couldn’t help myself.” Roger was on his way to drunk city, population most of the people at this party. “In fact,” He slurred, his gazing shifting back to you, “I might not be able to help myself to not help myself to you.”
Deacy stood, and put a protective arm around his friend, “Rog, firstly, if you’re referring to the chandelier we heard, the only thing I could have done to alter its trajectory would be considered manslaughter in several countries. Secondly, that’s exactly what I’ll do to you if you don’t keep your grease-gun away from Y/N, here.”
You couldn’t decide if it was a threat or a joke or a bit of both. You also couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. It was the grin of early holiday presents. The grin of winning something you didn’t even know you wanted but did. The grin of waking up on the first day of summer vacation. You looked at Jim and the look on his face told you all you needed to know: he was doing everything in his power to not laugh.
“Will you ever drop the car bit?” Roger was trying hard to sound angry, though you suspected he not only loved the teasing, but would dearly miss it if it ever actually vanished from their friendship.
“Will you ever drop the car bit?” Deacy questioned.
As seriously as he could manage, Roger asked his cohort, “Well, who is she, then? Your...friend?”
“Rog, this is Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Roger Taylor. Famous drummer, dear friend, and infamous car-adulterer.”
You and Roger shook hands, “I heard your name somewhere tonight, I’m sure of it.”
“I think you know my friend, Lydia?” You tried to prod his memory. Deacy looked at you, swallowing up every scrap of personal information you dropped.
Roger’s whole body changed at the mention of Lydia’s name. It was the feeling of heat returning to the body after a walk in the dead of winter. It was the feeling of a song you never skip. He glowed. Which was saying something as he was the type of person, you thought, who was never strictly turned off for anyone.
“You mean to tell me you came here with the Goddess in Red?”
“The scary yet fascinating thing here is that he could still be talking about his car.” Jim pondered aloud.
“She’s playing hard to get, the little minx.” Roger looked genuinely upset.
You laughed, “Yes, that’s Lydia without question. Actually, I haven’t seen her since we arrived.”
“That’s by design, I’m afraid; we’re playing a game.” Roger’s smile was a pinwheel. Let’s play, it said. “Wanna join us, love?”  
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blogmydrap-blog · 5 years
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Roll of 6 cotton napkins, 32×32 cm, made of 100% Cotton. Every pack is composed of 4 different Abstract designs. Abstract is a beautiful collection of napkins inspired by geometric abstraction that will dress our table in dinners and meals in a very original way.
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christinepeloquin · 3 years
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Semi-Private Workshop February 19-20, 2022
Semi-Private Workshop in my Home Studio February 19-20, 2022: Saturday-Sunday: 12 to 4pm Only 3 spaces available!
Drawing and Painting with Mixed Media Collage
Learn the joys of mixed media collage. In the workshop, I teach the fundamentals of collage, drawing and painting. I will address working with papers, fabrics, found objects, past art work, pencil and charcoal drawing, and acrylic painting. Students have the option to play with gelli plates, stamps and monoprinting on papers in addition the collage. The materials used will be the choice of each student, but students are encouraged to incorporate some of their own prior art work into new pieces. The objective of the workshop is to explore new mixed media techniques and excavate each student’s authentic voice in their art.
I teach 2 drawing methods using the student's own photos. I teach how to graph a photo for any size free hand drawing and also a tracing method that works well for small pieces and individuals who are intimidated or new to drawing. We learn the fundamentals of collage on the first day and then spend the second day drawing and painting over those collages. I do drawing demonstrations on the first day so that you know what to expect and what kind of photo reference to bring. I work individually with each person trying to get their projects to a place that they love.
I encourage everyone to incorporate mixed media collage into what they already do! I will work with each of you on whatever style project you would like to work on whether it is faces, figures, landscapes, still lives or abstracts. There are no set rules in my workshops. I try to create a fun time that introduces new techniques and a comfortable learning environment to enhance where you already are. All levels are welcomed!
Important note: Please email me a copy of your vaccination card prior to the class. Please do not come if you are sick. Rainchecks will be issued if you are feeling unwell and 50% refund is available for workshops cancelled 72 hours in advance. This is my home and I take care of my senior Dad, so masks are required. Thank you, Be Well and Namaste!
Materials list;
·         2 to 4 Wood panels, or canvas boards. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/blick-studio-wood-panels/ . Medium sizes (24 x 24), 10 x 10 and large if you want. I will have different sizes available for sale as well.
·         Fabrics-- new and old, scraps, curtains, tablecloths, patterned napkins, cottons, polyesters, silks--anything that speaks to you. They do not have to be perfect, just smooth. Please bring patterns you would love to see in your work!
·         Papers –scrapbooking papers, patterned, tissue paper, wall paper, maps, paper napkins. Japanese rice papers work best.
·         Optional: Found Objects- old letters, old book pages, stamps, ribbon, washi tapes, scrapbooking stuff, keys, pressed dried flowers….
·         Optional: Prior art projects that you are willing to let go of- watercolors, drawings, paintings, photographs…anything except oil paintings or inkjet photos.
·         Matte medium – 16 oz. We'll use a lot of this! Golden is great but NOT Golden OPEN matte medium (It dries too slowly for this.) Mod podge does not work for this either.  https://www.utrechtart.com/items/00628-1126/
·         OPTIONAL gelli plate gelliarts.com,  roller and stamps to do some monoprinting on papers and fabrics
·         Extra soft vine charcoal, https://www.utrechtart.com/items/22989-1002/ soft charcoal pencil https://www.utrechtart.com/items/20418-2061/  and super soft black charcoal sticks. (I will provide these black ones)
·         Optional: Blending Stumps or Tortillons https://www.utrechtart.com/items/20344-1003/
·         Charcoal kneaded eraser https://www.utrechtart.com/products/prismacolor-kneaded-rubber-erasers/
·         Spray fixative MATTE. (Not workable fixative.) https://www.utrechtart.com/products/krylon-1311-matte-finish/  
·         Acrylic paints. I love Golden paints, but you can bring what you have. If you are going to buy any paints for figurative work, I recommend Fluid Quinacridone/Nickel Azo Gold and Fluid Titan Buff by Golden. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/golden-fluid-acrylics/  
·         OPTIONAL: Golden Acrylic Flow Release. You can use your matte medium as a substitute.
·         Brushes including 2” finch (cheap) or house painting brush for gluing the collage down. https://www.utrechtart.com/items/06280-1019/  Small to medium size brushes for acrylic painting. https://www.utrechtart.com/products/blick-scholastic-wonder-white-brushes/
·         Scissors and sharp utility knife 
·         Photo reference for figures that the student would like to draw. Make sure that photo references are in focus and have a clear light source. It is very helpful to have color versions of the photo on a tablet or phone and black and white versions of each photo printed on regular inkjet paper.
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braidedrugs · 3 years
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Nautical Home Decor: How Do You Decorate Nautical-Inspired Rooms?
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The sea and marine life always have a fascinating association with our life as it is ingrained deep in our mind. Even as we grow up, most of the people are entranced by the courageous accounts of pirate stories and their mysterious ships. A holiday on the beach is also cherished by people fascinated by the sea and marine life. The presence of a huge sea along with sunlight and sunbathing is truly a refreshing and relaxing experience that eliminates all the tiredness & tensions of your office job or daily routine. 
Since everyone does not have the privilege of visiting the sea and refreshing their memories of marine life, they go for the most common nautical goods and instruments that were available in the large boats of the pirates. These are also known as nostalgic recollections which not only resuscitate but also fill the home with a recharged aura.
There are some high-quality nautical home decorating ideas that could set the level for transporting you into a kingdom of the imagination. Nautical home decor includes products and items for everyone - kids love the model boats and the guests will appreciate, adore the nautical furnishings & instruments. Let us relive the maritime decor and understand the items that fall under nautical home decor. Check out the following products that will answer the question “how do you decorate nautical-inspired rooms?”.
Top 10 Items to Decorate The Nautical-Inspired Rooms
Wooden Sailboat Model: For avid lovers of the sea, this wooden model is perfect. It can be kept on a flat surface like a drawer set, giving a feeling that it is floating above them.
Whale Flower Vase: This has an unusual shape than the traditional flower vases and this mysteriousness is what brings in the memories of the fun time that you had at the beach once.
Starfish Toilet Paper Holder: A paper holder is the basic requirement of every washroom and you can decorate it by using the starfish-shaped holder.
Ship Wheel Clock: This is a wooden nautical product whose clock area is painted white. It has the shape of a wheel of a ship and if the item has carved knots then it will be perfect for any room in the home and office.
Napkin Holder (Sailboat or seashell-shaped): This nautical home decor product is considered minimalist and is made of ceramic. You can enjoy seafood on the dining table first and then use napkins from this holder.
Octopus Wall Mirror: The wall mirror is oval-shaped and is circumference with eight tentacles of the octopus giving an oceanic feel to the room. You can go for a mermaid wall mirror that is made of iron and glass. If you are fascinated by mermaids, then go for this mirror.
Lighthouse Shelf: Made of metal, this is one of the ideal bathroom accompaniment. It stands on the floor with four legs and has space for towels. It is in the shape of a lighthouse which virtually hosts the nautical feel.
Cast Iron Anchor Hooks: For showcasing an oceanic entrance to your home, these CI anchor hooks are just perfect. It can be hanged behind the door for giving air to umbrellas, coats, and summer togs. When not in use, these perform spectacularly as standalone wall art.
Nautical Tripod Floor Lamp: Your living room is well lit up in the oceanic aura with this nautical tripod light with a lamp that will light the room perfectly.
Wall Art (Themed Nautical or Abstract Ocean): Wall art is the best and long-lasting way to decorate nautical-inspired rooms. The art can contain rope knots, boat models, ship wheels, and ladders that will take your imagination to the sea every day.
Other Ways to Decorate The Nautical-Inspired Rooms
Suitable color coordination will introduce a nautical feel into the rooms. A combination of white and blue is the ideal choice for furnishings, from pillow covers to sofa covers. The same theme is suitable for curtains, wherein lighter color will take up the majority of the area.
Another way is to go with a mix-and-match theme. Herein, all the nautical theme products are maintained in a room, such as a bedroom. This mismatched fabrics style is similar to that of a sailor room as it gives a feel like an accumulation of old textiles that have been brought back from a sea journey. Along with these ideas, you can add jute, cotton, or wool durable braided rugs that will enhance the nautical-ambiance of the room along with giving comfort beneath your feet.
Besides, you can also use vintage wooden suitcases as a bedside table. Iron hemisphere maps, fish scale, and antique crystal ship chandelier are some other items that will draw in the nautical feel into the rooms. Another option is wall art for a kid’s room that should give a playful feel without being boring or ancient. All these nautical home decor ideas and suggestions will definitely lend a shoulder in your efforts of decorating your nautical-inspired rooms.
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