#crystalware

[chemicalresearchupdates]

Shaping the Future of the Crystalware and Glassware Market

Crystalware and Glassware Market: Definition

Crystalware and glassware refer to a diverse range of elegant and functional products made from glass or crystal materials. These items are used in various settings, including households, restaurants, hotels, and the hospitality industry, for purposes such as serving food and beverages, decoration, and gifting. Crystalware typically denotes high-quality glassware, often embellished with intricate designs or patterns, while glassware encompasses a broader category of glass-based products, including drinking glasses, vases, bowls, and more.

Market Overview and Scope

The crystalware and glassware market is a dynamic segment of the broader consumer goods industry. It encompasses products designed for both functional and aesthetic purposes. The market's scope includes a wide array of glass and crystal items, ranging from simple everyday drinking glasses to ornate crystal chandeliers. These products find their place in various segments, such as tabletop glassware, barware, decorative pieces, and specialty glassware designed for specific beverages like wine or whiskey.

Market Growth

The crystalware and glassware market has witnessed consistent growth over the years, driven by several factors. The increasing trend of dining out, rising disposable incomes, and a growing preference for aesthetically pleasing dining experiences have all contributed to the market's expansion. Additionally, a surge in the demand for premium and customized glassware products for special occasions and events has further boosted market growth. As consumers increasingly seek unique and personalized products, manufacturers have adapted by offering customization options and innovative designs, driving market growth even further.

Market Industry

The crystalware and glassware market industry comprises a wide range of players, from small artisanal crafters to large-scale industrial manufacturers. Production methods vary, with some companies specializing in hand-blown glass or crystal products, emphasizing craftsmanship and uniqueness, while others focus on mass production to meet the demands of a broader consumer base. The industry is also influenced by trends in sustainability, with eco-friendly materials and production processes gaining prominence. Furthermore, the market is subject to global trade dynamics, with international trade playing a significant role in product availability and consumer choices.

Trends in the Market

Several trends are shaping the crystalware and glassware market. Sustainability has become a key focus, with consumers increasingly seeking products made from recycled or environmentally friendly materials. Additionally, minimalist and modern designs are gaining popularity, reflecting a shift towards simplicity and functionality. Customization remains a significant trend, with consumers looking to personalize glassware for special occasions and events. Furthermore, digital platforms and e-commerce have transformed the way consumers shop for crystalware and glassware, offering convenience and a wider selection of products. Finally, collaborations between designers and glassware manufacturers have resulted in unique and innovative collections, catering to diverse consumer preferences.

In conclusion, the crystalware and glassware market is a vibrant and evolving sector within the consumer goods industry, offering a wide range of products that cater to both functional and aesthetic needs. Its growth is driven by changing consumer preferences, sustainability concerns, and the continuous innovation of designs and materials, making it an exciting industry to watch in the coming years.

[nostalgicfun]

So, I've been trying to give my living areas a design-on-the-dime makeover to feel like an actual, authentic 90s/early 2000s house. I've been thinking about replacing the rugs as my rugs are very "Walmart in 2014," but rugs are SO expensive I couldn't justify it.

BUT THEN.

I was at the thrift store the other day and they had this huge bin of rugs for $20 a piece, and they were big rugs, too!

...But they were bound with tape and plastic so they couldn't be unfurled. All I could tell was that they were very thick/nice quality and a burgundy and beige combo, which is exactly what my mom and all family members had in the 90s/00s.

So I asked the thrift store owner if he knew what kind of condition they're in and he said they were immaculate and came from an older couple's estate. Awesome. Cool.

Here's $40. I'm putting two of these bad boys in my car.

So I buy two rugs completely at random with no idea what might be on them. I get them home. I unload them. I unfurl the first one and

IT'S A VEGETABLE RUG?????

I just stood there, floored. On one hand, vegetable rug. On the other hand, vegetable rug.

This is so 90s mom Tuscan kitchen. This is the rug in the dining room of your friend's house where their parents make more money than your parents and you eat spaghetti at their dining room table after swimming in their pool. This is the rug in the dining room of your great aunt's house where no one actually eats in the dining room, it's just for show and there's crystalware on the table at all times.

[itstokkii]

A Week with Turkitty: Day 2

Day 1 | Day 2

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

Morning came, the sunlight streaming through her lace curtains. She felt something wriggling, light tufts of fur brushing against her knuckles.

She opened her eyes to see a cat sleeping next to her.

"You're supposed to be in the guestroom..." she sighed before getting up to wash up and make breakfast for the both of them.

Turkey awoke to the smell of kielbasa, and made his way to the kitchen to see Uzbekistan preparing the green tea for breakfast.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked him, her eyes concentrated on the hot water she was pouring from the kettle to the teapot.

Turkey meowed and closed his eyes satisfactorily.

Every night is a good night when I'm sleeping next to-

"But you can't sleep in my bed." Uzbekistan's voice cut him out of his thoughts.

What?!? Why??

"I know you're a kitty, but I don't want your fur all over my pillows, sheets, and comforters. There's a guestroom over there with a bed as well, why not seize the opportunity?" She placed the teapot carefully on the table, sat down, and turned on the TV.

The news channel was droning on about what the next few years had in store for Uzbekistan's urban landscape, but given that she knew all of that already, she sighed and switched to the sports channel, where a rerun of a soccer game from last night played. As per usual, Turkey was the first to finish his food, while Uzbekistan took her time. They were both engrossed in the soccer game, Turkey more so.

She watched as his pupils dilated and giggled. "Same old Turkey!"

All his frustration and excited yells at the game were now reduced to cute meows. He hated it. She, however, relished in it, snapping a few pictures and videos to send to the group chat.

When it was halftime, she began to clean up the table, placing the dishes in the sink. She quickly changed into her pantsuit and then sat down in front of him.

"I have to go back to work really quickly since I forgot my purse. I’m bringing you with me because as a cat you’re quite helple-Ahaha! What are you doing? Stop!" Uzbekistan burst into giggles and mustered her remaining strength to look at the criminal sitting on her lap. Turkey was too busy kneading tiny biscuits into her thigh to listen.

"Cut that out! Please! No!" She pulled him off of her in between her laughs. "Look, I'll add another rule. You can't touch me. I mean, gentle touching is fine, but whatever you were doing just now? Don't do that."

She brought out the cat carrier, placing it on the floor with a resounding clang. The orange cat pulled at her leg, hissing at the cage.

There’s no way you’re stuffing me in that!

Uzbekistan sighed. “Look, I know it’s cramped and cold. But I honestly can’t think of a better idea to carry you around safely—Wait! I think I have an idea. I’ll be back.” She ran into her bedroom.

In the meantime, Turkey pranced around back and forth before spotting the cabinet from the corner of his eye. She was right about there being all sorts of precious wares…crystalware…and a commemoration plate of Misha the Bear from the 1980 Olympics that he had boycotted. The other Turkics would talk about it from time to time, and he’d be completely lost. He had tried to ask them about it once.

“Oh right, I forgot,” Turkmenistan sighed, “You missed out. On like, a lot. So much time and effort and meticulous planning…”

“Hey, it’s no big deal, Turkey! You can still watch the recorded footage on Youtube! ‘Course, it won’t be the same, but you’ll still feel a sliver of what we had felt.” Kyrgyzstan patted him on the back.

…Yeah, they probably had a grudge.

On one shelf, he’d found a bunch of old black-and-white photographs of what seemed like her, her siblings, and of others. In one of them, she was in a kitchen with Ukraine, both of them laughing and folding varenyky together. Another was a family photo, with Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Kyrgyzstan standing up, and Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan sitting down on chairs. Kyrgyzstan had a hand resting on the top of Kazakhstan’s chair, while Turkmenistan placed a hand on Uzbekistan’s shoulder. 

There was also a photocopied painting of her from her time as the Bukharan Khanate. The artist was quite talented, capturing her regal look, the many decorations and jewelry that accessorized her clothing, down to the embroidery. But he had to admit, nothing compared to seeing her like that in real life all those years ago, when she was still a stickler for rules, but was energetic and had more light in her eyes. Nargiza insisted the change was because she had “matured into an adult,” though he felt there was more to it than that.

“I was pretty back then, too, wasn’t I?” Uzbekistan chuckled as she came out of the room with a designer tote bag.

“Here. I hope this will feel more comfortable and if not, it’s at least a disguise since I’m actually not allowed to bring animals inside the office.” 

Turkey hopped into the bag. His tiny cat legs brushed against her other supplies: her makeup pouch, a portable phone charger, a few snacks, and her wallet.

“Careful, by the way. This is designer.” Nargiza put on her heels, grabbed her bag, and got in her car.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

“Hello, Miss.”

“Hello.” She gave her assistant a gentle nod.

“I thought you were on break?”

“Well, yes, but I forgot my clutch purse on my desk. I came here to retrieve i—what’s wrong.”

Her assistant shifted his weight on one foot to the other. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but notice, but…there’s something in your bag. It’s quite furry.” 

If Turkey could sweat, he would right now. 

“A-ah! Well-! That’s my—”

“It actually looks like a cat. Miss Uzbekistan, did you bring a ca—”

“Shh! Yes, I did. A…friend dropped it over at my house to take care of. I couldn’t just leave it at home.”

“...Can I take a couple pictures?” Her assistant slowly held up his phone.

“Who are you going to show it to?”

“Oh, just my family at home. You know how my daughter loves cats…”

“Sure. Just don’t disturb the cat.”

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

Turkey was groaning for the past five minutes ever since they had left her office. 

Come on…Think about my dignity! My pride as a man! To be taken photos of and shown to little girls…This isn’t right!

Uzbekistan sighed. “He’s a responsible guy, hence why I chose him as my assistant. Your photos are safe.”

YOU CHOSE A GUY TO ASSIST YOU AT WORK???

“Please be quiet. My stomach is rumbling…How about some lavash?

Turkey cocked his head to the side.

We’re having…bread for lunch…?

“Lavash…you know, like kebab?”

Oh.

Turkey sat on the table and snacked on a mini lavash Uzbekistan had the vendor make for him, while she munched on a larger one fit for a human’s stomach, petting him with her clean hand. Turkey still couldn’t get over how clear everyone’s voices were in the mall, overlapping each other like newspaper clippings.

“So, what do you think?”

Turkey meowed, his eyes dilating.

“Ahaha! So cute…your eyes are getting bigger! So you do like it, hmm?” She scratched behind his ears and below his neck.

God, this is embarrassing…But it feels so good…

He leaned into her touch, and at this point Uzbekistan laughed louder, placing a hand on her mouth so as to muffle them.

“We still need to go grocery shopping for your tuna,” she said as she wiped his mouth with a napkin before placing him in her bag. 

She hauled 8 cans of tuna, along with her already heavy tote bag thanks to a certain orange cat, back to her car.

“Who knew tuna was so expensive these days?”

If Turkey could speak, he would have probably reminded her of her economy and the fact that she was a landlocked country where the only tuna she'd be getting are imported. But he had a feeling she knew that already.

The ride home was mainly silent, occasionally interrupted by Uzbekistan awkwardly trying to make small talk with a cat, who could only respond in meows and chirps she was unable to understand.

“Ah, what a long day…” Uzbekistan kicked off her shoes and flopped on her couch. 

“But I can't relax yet. I need to give you a bath.” 

G-give me a bath?! Turkey's face scrunched up. Don't you know cats clean themselves?

“Usually, I don't really wash cats that often since they can clean themselves well. But you…I don't know when you'll turn back. Just in case, I'm going to give you a bath so that your hygiene doesn't end up compromised. Now!”

She scooped him up and carried him into the bathroom, Turkey yowling the whole way there.

I hate this…

Turkey was sitting in a small plastic tub of water as Uzbekistan cleaned him up with pet shampoo she had secretly bought at the store earlier.

“Let's get your little paws…” She hummed to herself, gently scrubbing and kneading them. 

Turkey felt conflicted about being treated like a baby(even if he was being taken care of by a pretty lady), taking his inner turmoil out on the water as he swiped his paws back and forth against the shower head.

“Ahah!! Stop! You're getting water all over me! Sadik, please! Ah!” She squeaked and laughed, attempting to shield the oncoming water with an arm.

Sadik looked at Nargiza, whose face had burst into red from laughter, the colors collecting most at her cheeks. Her other arm was clutching her stomach out of pain.

“Haha! Look at-snrk-look at you! It's like you stuck a fork into an outlet or something!”

Turkey bat the water against her with more force.

He had seen her appearances on TV, and her laugh was elegant and ladylike. A hand covering her mouth as she laughed, with the “ohoho” kind of laugh you'd see young ladies do in period dramas.

But after looking at her again as the water sprayed on her, as she laughed so hard she was beginning to snort and tears were coming out of her eyes, her mascara ruined, his heart blossomed with a certain adoration. 

He was looking at her real laugh, not the suppressed one.

After a short moment of more laughter, she managed to whip out her phone from her back pocket in time to take pictures of Turkey's wet sponge form.

No doubt she'll send this to the group chat…

“W-wait, let me just…” she manipulated his fur into little spikes, and with shaky hands, took more photos.

Uzbekistan snapped to her senses, trying to calm herself down. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed a towel and began to dry him off. 

“Ah…I-I couldn't help myself. If it makes you feel better…you look adorable….in an ugly way…?”

Turkey meowed with a hint of irritation, hoping the point gets through. It's all he could answer, since he wouldn't be able to magically speak to her and tell her how it was completely fine because of how adorable and pretty she looked as she laughed her ass off.

She looked at him and his slight frown. “I'm sorry, Turkey. I should make it up to you. How about some sardines as a treat? Lithuania brought me some all the way from Vilnius.” 

He meowed, as if he was considering the offer.

“And…and you get to sleep with me tonight.” 

At that, he stood up on his hind legs and raised his front paws, now very satisfied with the offer.

It took everything in Uzbekistan to not squeal as she gave him upsies, pulling him to her chest and carrying him to her room, where the blow dryer was…

…To which she laughed once again as Turkey's fur puffed up under the blast of the dryer.

However, she cuddled him in her sleep, and he couldn't be upset about that.

As she snored away, Sadik in her arms, Nargiza's phone was blowing up with the other Turkics replying to the photos she had taken of him.

Turkmenistan: ahaha! he seems to be doing well under your care! sending him my love ❤️

🇰🇿kazakhstan🇰🇿: oh my gosh…sister please don't be so cruel think about his feelings 😭

skibidisigmaohio123: we got unc getting a cat bath before gta 6 😂😂😩🗣️

kyrgyzstan: society is healing

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

[notroosterbradshaw]

Office Christmas Party

We all know the Office Christmas Party season is in full effect. You: office manager. Bob: your admin. A Chris Beck (The Martian) self-repost from - ha - 2016, now an ode to Lt. BCG’s himself, Bob Floyd. A short, fluffy AU. 1.5k.

“Hot date?” you joked, sidling up to your administrative assistant as his long, slender fingers drifted across the screen of his phone, sitting on top of the desk of his workspace. He looked up with a shy smile, pocketing his phone and raising his champagne in the plastic glass instead. “I see boss lady forked out for the fancy crystalware this year,” you murmured to yourself, disappointed while he couldn’t resist scoffing and he offered you a glass of your own that he’d been saving.

“There wasn’t room in the budget,” he reminded you, nudging his glasses up his nose. “Not after the cuts made last financial year. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s free booze, who’s to argue with that?”

“It would have been nice to leave the office. Have a nice meal,” you continued before sighing, taking heed that your employees were at least enjoying themselves at that moment. Bob wriggled the glass again, hoping to distract you. “Thank you,” you gratefully accepted it. At least it was the good stuff, you realised, relaxing into the taste. “Merry Christmas, Bob.”

“Merry Christmas, boss,” he nodded solemnly as you both took a sip. “Don’t dock my pay for this because I know you respect honesty above all else and I would hate for it to backfire on me, but that jumper will definitely win the ‘ugly sweater’ comp later tonight,” he joked quietly, his amused smile wide and stony blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Ballsy,” you commented with a snicker. “You’re right. That is a good way to dock your pay.”

He laughed heartedly. “I’m sorry. I take it back,” he raised his glass in mock surrender.

“My boyfriend actually got it for me last Christmas as a gag gift, he knew I’d hate it but he’s taking me to dinner later tonight so I’m going to wear this, just in spite of him,” you said as Bob chuckled, lightly shaking his head. “I am glad I got an occasion to wear it. You know, really get something out of it and make him regret it.”

“What a horrible guy. You should dump him if this is the kind of thing he gifts you,” he took another sip of his champagne nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him before you giggled quietly at his gall.

“Maybe so,” you joked back to put him at ease. You both took in the scene around you. Your co-workers milling around with their champagne flutes jovially; the white and colourful Christmas lights strung across workstations and flashing brightly; the mail boy trotting around to lay kisses on the cheeks of all under the guise of the mistletoe he was holding; tinsel being used as scarves and selfies, selfies, selfies galore of happy employees – you were relieved to see everyone so pleased even if it was such an underwhelming celebration. “I saw that you extended our morning meeting time tomorrow,” you whispered.

Bob nodded, pushing back his long dirty blonde hair, nervously. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, as long as I have the time on the other side.”

“You’re not booked back-to-back,” he confirmed. “It won’t take the time I’ve allocated.”

“No problem. Off the record?” you began as he gave you his attention and straightened to his full height.

“Off the record,” he cleared his throat. “I will be putting in my resignation.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. You were aware this was coming. Robert Floyd was far too intelligent to be trapped as your assistant for the rest of your careers and you’d heard through the grapevine that he had passed up a few jobs to stay where he was, which was a little upsetting. You didn’t want to hold him back and you certainly did not want him to feel obligated to stay. You dragged him in for a meeting a few months earlier to remind him that his potential was being wasted, regardless of what he thought his obligation was to you. You had a few contacts with other companies that could develop him further than you offered though he blatantly refused – he wanted to do things his way and without your influence which you respected immensely. “I’m devastated but I knew this was coming. I appreciate you staying with me as long as you have, Bob.”

“I’ve really enjoyed working with you. And I should thank you for giving me such a good reference. They mentioned that they called you already.”

“Really, it’s no problem. We sound like a mutual admiration society,” you scoffed, sipping your champagne.

Bob finally laughed, bringing a dimple to his handsome features. “True, we’re much too jaded for that.”

“Exactly,” you agreed as Mariah Carey blasted through the office and half the employees started happily/drunkenly screaming the lyrics to All I Want for Christmas is You. “When do I lose you?”

“MISTLETOE!” the mail boy bellowed, dangling the piece of red and green plastic above your heads as you and Bob looked at each other, alarmed.

“Ahh, no,” you spoke up immediately. “No, no. Not happening. Please be advised I am Mr Floyd’s manager.”

“I’m her subordinate,” Bob reiterated. “I don’t think we need to remind you of the ramifications of those actions,” Bob pointed out thoughtfully to the young man who was now ashen. Bob smacked his arm in that traditional bro-style – you were thankful to Bob for taking charge in the only way dudes can for each other.

“Fuck,” he muttered as you bit back a giggle at his language – this was not going well for him. “I’m so sorry – ” he tried as you shook your head, trying to hide your grin.

“It’s okay, just drop the mistletoe and move along,” you hinted.

“Yes, boss,” he said, before slinking away, mortified. You both laughed quietly.

“His intentions were good,” Bob told you as you nodded.

“So?” you gave Bob your attention again.

“Start of next year,” he confirmed. “I’ll finish the year out, but my notice is two weeks then I’m taking a few days to take my girlfriend away for Christmas.”

You sighed but forced a smile. “Well, congratulations, Bob. You deserve it. I wish the company wasn’t losing you, but you’ll thrive wherever you go,” you raised your glass as he did the same and took a sip. “Well, I’m going to head out. I don’t want to stay and cramp everyone’s style with the boss being here.”

“No,” Bob insisted. “Stay. Everyone wants you to take us out to a bar with your corporate card later,” he teased as you grinned.

“No, no,” you put the plastic flute on the desk before you. “I don’t want to have to haul anyone in and grant warnings on Monday. And if I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen,” you said decisively.

Bob nodded. “Fair,” he agreed.

You stood up and removed the Santa hat on your head before affixing it to Bob’s. “Ahh, lovely. Really brings out the blue in your eyes,” you said as the globe at the end flicked on and off dimly. “Make sure they don’t burn this place to the ground, huh?”

He chuckled quietly, dropping his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Enjoy your night, Bob,” you told him and headed to your office to organise yourself and make a discreet exit. You closed the office door, the sounds of the joy of the season quietening. Fixing your hair, you gave your make-up a light touch-up and spritzed on your partner’s favourite perfume. Jacket on, rugged up in your snuggly scarf and bag you’re your shoulder, you gave yourself another quick once over in preparation for your date before you re-opened the door and the wall of Christmas sound hit you again.

Spying Bob standing tall among a gaggle of other admin, you knew he had a bit of a reputation around the office as a heartthrob, in that sweet nerd way, you supposed. Of course, you knew, it wasn’t lost on you how handsome he was. How sweet and friendly – but you caught yourself before getting swept up in those thoughts about him.

You gave him a small smile and wink before ducking through people and snuck out to the elevator. You waited until it arrived and stepped in eagerly, relishing in the Christmas muzik and found your phone, seeing the influx of missed work calls and texts, one text standing out and piquing your interest the most.

Bobby Floyd: I know I’m an asshole for getting you that jumper last Christmas but I love that you’re wearing it just for me right now. I’ll prefer it on the floor with the rest of our clothes when I get my hands on you later tonight. I love you, I will meet you at the restaurant soon, lover xoxo

You smiled openly, happy in the privacy of the elevator. It had been a strange year, hiding your relationship from your co-workers. You were so sad that Bob had landed the job of his dreams and that you wouldn’t be working together anymore. He’d told you all about the job, and you were just thrilled for him, but not seeing his cheeky grin outside your office every day would be… different. Maybe a little sad. You’d just have to contend with it at home instead. But he deserved this, and you would celebrate with him as he deserved and for the season later.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[keelywolfe]

With Tongue (short)

Crowley and Aziraphale discuss the angel's most recent assignment during 'The Arrangement.' This does not go in the direction Crowley expects.

~~*~~

"So how did it go?" Crowley asked idly. Not that he was particularly interested in the details, basic temptation and all. If there'd been any issues, he had no doubt Aziraphale would have brought it up before the waiter even arrived with the menu. But it was good to keep the angel talking during dinner, he was wont to become a little too absorbed with whatever was on his plate and ignore his dining companion a tad too much for Crowley's tastes.

Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before he answered, lest any cake crumbs escape. "It was actually terribly easy."

"Eh, usually is,” Crowley drawled. He idly tipped his wine glass up on the rim of its base, rolling it across the tablecloth like a crystal wheel. “A nudge here, a wile there, most of them fall pretty quick."

"Hmm,” Aziraphale took another bite of cake, some unholy concoction piled high with white cream. Crowley was making a sincere attempt at not showing he was deeply invested in watching each bite disappear between the angel’s lips, with limited success. “Honestly, he was rather demanding about it."

"Demanding?” That made him frown. The humans he was sent after were usually readily susceptible to the mildest of suggestions; certainly the tasks he offered to Aziraphale were on the low end of the difficulty scale. “Really? How so?"

Aziraphale hummed around his fork, though whether that was in agreement or appreciation, Crowley couldn’t tell. He dabbed at his mouth again, wiping away a tiny, distracting smear of cream from his upper lip. "Mm, yes, and entirely too much tongue about it as well."

His focus on the angel’s lips was broken as his thoughts came to a screeching halt and the only thing that kept his wine glass from topping over to spill a lovely Cabernet across the white tablecloth as the sudden convulsive clench of his fingers. "....wha...tongue??"

"Well, yes, of course,” Aziraphale frowned at him in mild disapproval, “however do you kiss them?"

"K--kckkkc---ki--" The word caught in his throat, lodging in there like a bit of cheese or undigested potato. He managed to raise his glass to his mouth without slopping the lot of it down the front of his shirt and gulped it down, wheezing as half of it chose to be defiant and traveled down the wrong pipe.

Aziraphale’s frown deepened into concern, enough that he actually set his fork down. "Gracious, are you all right? I know you were a serpent, but you might want to save swallowing things whole to food rather than wine glasses."

"I don't—” Crowley rasped, trying to get past the betrayal of his corporation’s vocal cords when he needed them the most. He managed to splutter out, loud enough for the nearby tables to cast them a variety of askance looks, “You kissed him??"

"Of course I did.” It should be impossible for those words to sound so prim coming from an angel, from his angel, who now that Crowley didn’t seem to be able to choke to discorporation, was returning to his cake with polite enthusiasm, his napkin back in full force before he added, “He was quite agreeable afterward. And I won't have you say I'm not trying my best to keep to the standards of our arrangement."

"Angel!?" Too loud and the pitch of that single word was high enough to send a tremble through the crystalware in the entire room.

Aziraphale was frowning again. "Dear me, are you quite well? You're very red, Crowley, here, let me get you a glass of water."

He started to rise and Crowley snapped out, "Why, so you can stick your tongue down the waiter's throat?"

"Tch, you're being silly,” Aziraphale sighed, “I would do no such thing. The water is free."

"ANGEL!!?!” This time every wine bottle in the dining room shimmied an inch to the right. The other patrons were focused intently on their dinners and not at all sneaking glances to the veritable gossipy show unfolding before them.

Aziraphale sat back down with a sigh. There was the faintest pull of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "Do you know, you're quite gullible at times, my dear."

"…gullible,” Crowley repeated. Was this how humans felt right before insanity struck? He suspected it might be, wondered if Hell allowed for time off due to unexpected mental health crisis and what form he’d need.

"Mm, yes,” Aziraphale picked up his fork again and took a rather unseemly large bite of cake that left a smear of cream on his upper lip that he licked away, a pink flicker of tongue heralding the arrival of his napkin. “Also, I have a blessing to do next week in Bristol, I believe it's your turn."

"Gullible. Bristol. Tongues." Obviously his mind had broken, Crowley decided, and his reset button was currently out of reach.

"Hm, I do believe I'll get you that water, after all,” Aziraphale decided. “Don't wander off, who knows what might happen if you start babbling about tongues to a human all willy nilly. Ta!"

Crowley watched the angel make his way to the service table, leaning in what Crowley thought was entirely too close to the young man in his quest for water. Revenge, he decided abruptly. He was a demon being taunted by a reckless, impudent angel and this would not stand. There would have to be revenge for this and he’d begin planning quite soon.

Right after he watched Aziraphale finish his cake.

-finis

[sarahlizziewrites]

Silent Saturday

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag!

Rules: Write something without dialogue. Inner dialogue is allowed, but that's it. Thoughts and actions, to keep the scene/snippet silent.

It's Saturday for me now, so have a snippet from The Ruby of Ranpur, in which Williamson Jones privately enjoys this detective lark.

After making a note of all the grimy things Barnaby Herons had heard about Lord and Lady Ashleigh - some of which were certainly not true, and others of which may have been true but I was certainly going to be keeping to myself - Sir Bradley led Raj and I to a room that seemed to have been reclaimed from a group of smokers, judging by the heavy fug of tobacco in the air and the half-completed card game on the table. On the side was a decanter of brandy, which Lord Ashleigh had apparently already helped himself to. He was eyeing up the amber liquid within as though either judging its quality, or appraising the value of the crystalware. At the other end of the rose-pink damask settee sat Lady Ashleigh, and I thought the pair of them looked rather like chastised schoolchildren waiting for a caning. I stood before them, leaning on my stick, not trying in particular to look schoolmasterly, but not not trying to, either.

I'm going to tag @glbettwrites, @mrbexwrites, @vacantgodling, @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife and @writingrosesonneptune, and anyone who would like to!

[veilkeeper]

Kira the Cat: Come to pay your respects to the real lady of the house, I see. What a clever creature you are! It's your lucky day. I am receiving compliments at this time, and you are most welcome to make an offering. Roz: Your paws are fit to overturn only the daintiest crystalware. Kira the Cat: Sometimes a lady has to make her presence known - delicately, of course.

man this game knows how to write cats.

[liam-twatter]

welcome to Monaco, the most boring Gp. Yes it's the hardest circuit (because of walls etc, but crashes shouldn't be fun) as an elephant driving in a crystalware (that's why overrated Hamilton took 9 years for a pole driving fast cars). At least it should be a weekend without pathetic Vettel, but will they stop using Senna to get attention / money? If you've been there you should know, low quality fashion shows, terrible food, and overpriced (hey but it's from Le Café de Paris! ...f*ck off), old women sucking millionaire d*cks on yachts, no wonder the unhappy princess tried many times to escape. I knew one of them "blue blood" hypocrites, used to say she would've married a poor worker, but oh how unlucky she only found a poor non-worker from Montecarlo... Obviously the media go : "never disappoints", "heartache"... wtf...

[ask-lord-morgarath]

With The Refinement Of A Sommelier

Greetings, imbeciles! As evidenced by my most recent poll on the Tumblr realm, it is clear that you plebians struggle with the concept of midnight snacking. No doubt you're unacquainted with the concept of the necessary etiquette, but I, Lord Morgarath of the Mountains of Rain and Night, shall condescend to enlighten you nonetheless.

Understand that the act of midnight snacking is reserved for the true connoisseur. The hour must be past the common man's bedtime but not too late to risk disturbing your beauty sleep. Midnight is the hour of choice, a time when the world sleeps and only the elite partake in this decadent ritual.

First, you must select the appropriate provisions. None of your lowly, processed garbage shall suffice. The unwashed masses may settle for leftovers or mundane snacks, but for those with discerning palates like myself, only the best will suffice. Seek out the finest of delicacies - artisanal cheeses, exotic fruits, or gourmet chocolates. 

A proper midnight snack is incomplete without a suitable beverage. Opt for a rare vintage wine or a glass of sparkling water. The commoners may resort to soft drinks, but one must be above such vulgarity.

The presentation of your chosen snacks is of utmost importance. Delicately arrange your victuals on a silver platter. Use fine china and crystalware, not those ghastly plastic utensils you peasants seem to favor. And be certain to do so quietly; the clinking of cutlery should not wake the inferior beings in your household.

When the hour is right and the setting impeccable, savor each bite and sip with the refinement of a sommelier. Chew slowly, allowing the flavors to dance on your palate. Never, I repeat, never give way to mindless gulping or messy swigging. Do not gorge yourself like a swine at a trough. The snacking savant gratifies in small, delectable bites. 

Finally, do not leave a trace of your satiation for the servants to discover in the morning. Dispose of the evidence with the utmost discretion and return to your slumber. Now, off with you, and may your attempts at this indulgence be less pitiful than I imagine them to be. Good night, peasants.

[merrock]

event: The Royal Gala

location: Pine Grove Gardens

date & time: January 20, 2024, 4PM EST

ooc duration: January 18-24, 2024

Welcome, one and all, to the Royal Gala! Held at the Pine Grove Gardens in the countryside of Merrock, guests should arrive on January 20th between three and four PM EST to have their formal portrait taken in the rose garden (built in a beautiful greenhouse) before the event begins.

Ushered inside, you will find that the mansion at Pine Grove Gardens has been decked out for royalty -- richly colored drapes in every window, fine crystalware for dinner and drinks, a live band in the ball room for dancing, sparkling chandeliers light the way. Dinner is served in the dining hall, catered by the fine folks at Overlook, with drinks found at the bar in the lounge all evening.

Feel free to explore the Pine Grove Garden Mansion, but please be respectful: this building is rich with the history of Merrock. The historical society has put a lot of work into keeping the place pristine, and money raised this evening will go back into their efforts to preserve and further study the history of Merrock.

Remember: the dress code for the event is formal. Those choosing to wear dresses should stick with long dresses and ball gowns, and those slipping into suits and ties should keep them as formal as possible. Deck yourself our in jewels, crowns, carry a sceptre, do what you need to do to feel and look extravagant.

Treat yourself like royalty this evening, Merrockites.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO KEEP IN MIND:

threads may be started any time between January 18th and 24th; they may be continued as long as you would like after, as long as they were started within that time frame.

you do not need to pause/drop existing threads. if you choose to, please communicate this with your writing partners!

when creating open starters, remember our rule about only posting one per day -- this goes by player, not character. space them out so everyone has the chance to get replies. (and please reply to existing starters before creating your own.)

if you participate in the thread roulette (located in the ooc), do so fairly. failure to do so will result in your comment being deleted from the game.

when posting plot calls in the ooc in general, be sure you are also commenting on other plot calls, and/or reaching out to those people. ignoring others while expecting them to come to you is not the vibe!

all outfits should be posted to #merrockfashion and will be queued to post on the event day! the queue will be randomized, so don't fret if you see things go up out of order.

additionally, social media posts can be shared to #merrocksocial and will be reblogged to the Times after they are posted.

[yamariiii]

NEW MUSIK OUT SOON

uploading my nu mixtape rudimentary spells to streaming rn, struggling with album cover still haha

the tape has 9 tracks and runs for 24 minutes, no features, all songs self produced and self mastered.

rudimentary spells will be dropped everywhere at the same day

stay tuned for musiks

https://soundcloud.com/yamariiii

https://crystalcorps.bandcamp.com

final:

[dersetwins]

au where rose is the china doll that's kept on the top cabinet shelf with all of grandmother's crystalware. dave is a tin soldier with a broken bayonet that fell under the bed years ago, gathering dust

[princessnotfound]

😢

George doesn't hear the door crack open. Mirrors are like vacuums, in that way. There isn't a sound that passes through bitter glass because it is too fragile even for the breath of a butterfly. They are lost within a dimension of crystalware that they have traversed one too many times, yet a pathway to freedom does not present itself; it rarely does. Glass talons are sharp enough to pin the steel shell of their mind to the ground with ease and George finds themself, once again, lost.

It's a common occurrence. So much so that they wonder why they still keep the thing in their room when it only seeks to cause them harm. Draws their conscience into a transparent maze until reality no longer exists around them, even if they finally acknowledge movement behind them. In the reflection, they spot Tubbo. Slipping through the gap of the door wordlessly. They see her, but they don't quite notice her. Not yet. Every dreadful step that inches closer to them is not quite registered. Their eyes are locked onto their Doppelgänger in the mirror, body tensed by something twisted. George's face may not contort into an expression of horror, but the air around them shifts with discomfort.

Image is a funny thing. His mirror shows him nothing more, nothing less than what he confidently flaunts every day, yet something seems awfully wrong. Something sickening churns in his stomach until the acid eats away at his being, because this isn't right. It isn't good enough. They can't tell if it is water or acid that gathers in the corners of their eyes. Black streaks carve into their flesh when they track down their cheeks, but they are too far gone to tell whether it is mascara or rotten ichor.

Tubbo is finally close enough to acknowledge. His presence startles them and they bring the balls of their palms to scoop dripping ink into their hands, smearing blackened tears over their skin. The evidence is so poorly hidden it is mocked in the mirror. George cannot quite find it in themself to make an excuse when they turn to face null; the silence settles in a melancholy heap between them.

[itstokkii]

A Week with Turkitty: Day 1

what if turkey became a cat for a short time and had to live with uzbekistan? this is the result of that idea. it's multi chaptered, so this is the first one.

Day 1 | Day 2

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

It's a wonderful day in the Yusufqizi residence. 

The arrival of fall meant no more sweltering hot days and portable fans. No longer did Nargiza have to keep her air conditioning on blast and then brace herself when looking at the electric bill at the end of the month. She didn't have to experience the pain of sweat stains. It was one of the best seasons, in her opinion—warm weather with the occasional breeze. She had also prepared her wardrobe a week earlier, and was excited for all the new outfits she could try out. And the best part? She was able to secure a whole week off to herself. 

She was sitting on the tapchan with a table full of jam, fruit, and chocolates, enjoying the wind combing itself through her dark brown locks. It was nice and quiet and incredibly peaceful. Nargiza took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the plants in her garden.

What should I do? She thought. Maybe visit Erbolat again? I should remind him to bring out his warmer clothes, otherwise he'll catch a cold...If I was smarter, perhaps I would've bought a ticket to see Korea...He always likes showing me around, and I'd love more photoshoots in hanbok...Hmm... Or maybe I should sleep in everyday and indulge myself in my favorite hobbies, like baking or knitting something... or perhaps finding a new song to play on the piano...? No, I can't be lazy and sleep in!

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging noise, and a call notification by...Azerbaijan?

"I'll be there in just a moment!" She yelled out to whomever was behind the door, and answered her former colleague's call.

"Hello...?"

"Open up." She could hear his voice behind the door.

"What? Azerbaijan, why are you in front of my house?! Is this about that thing with Rus-"

He sighed on the other end of the phone. "Nargiza, just open the door." With that, he hung up. 

She scoffed. What was that rascal doing here? She opened the door to see not only Azerbaijan standing there, but North Cyprus was with him as well, playing some game on his phone. Next to them was a... cat carrier? 

Nargiza smiled and turned to North Cyprus. 

"Hello, North Cyprus! How was the route? What are you doing here? Do I need to talk to Azerbaijan about it? Are you tired? Do you need some rest? My, don't tell me you only came here in a T-shirt? Did you bring a jacket? I can lend you one of Erbola-"

North Cyprus sighed and smiled back at her. "I'm fine, Auntie. I'm not a baby. Besides, it's not even that cold anyway."

She giggled and pinched his cheek affectionately, to which he scrunched his face. 

"Come inside! It's cold out. You're just in luck, I have some tea and treats over on the tapchan, so whatever this is—” she gestured at the both of them with a hand, “we can sort out here." She opened the gate wide enough for both of them to enter her house.

"Have some tea." Uzbekistan poured her two unexpected guests a cup of green tea, carefully placing it in front of them. "Oh, and help yourself to any of these snacks." 

Azerbaijan carefully sipped the tea, while North Cyprus stared at it, hoping for it to cool soon. He grabbed a toffee from the pile on the crystalware, minding the light blanket Uzbekistan threw over him, insisting he "needed to stay warm" and "she doesn't know what Turkey's doing, but she'll have a talk with him so North Cyprus's needs are met."

"What about me, Nargiz? You aren't worried about me catching a cold?"

"The Caucasus is a mountainous region, Rostem. You're fine."

"Aw...."

Now, over tea and treats, they could focus on the elephant in the room...or, rather, cat.

"Now would any of you explain to me why you made the 4 hour plane flight all the way from Turkey to here, with a cat in tow?" North Cyprus was the first to speak. 

"You're going to laugh at us."

"I'll believe it. I've seen enough in my time."

Azerbaijan looked at Uzbekistan. "Alright, but however you're gonna react, keep in mind that we're being completely serious."

He patted the cat carrier lightly.

"The cat in here...is Turkey."

She stared at the both of them, both of them feeling a menacing aura emit from her. 

North Cyprus sighed. "Look, we've already told you we're not joking. I didn't wanna sit in a 4 hour flight and have my butt fall asleep on the way to mess with you. I could be playing FIFA right now, actually..."

Uzbekistan felt uneasy. This couldn't possibly be true! But they were being dead serious… She bit her lip. 

"Fine, then. Let him out."

North Cyprus opened the latch, and out came a orangey-tan cat that leaped onto Uzbekistan's lap. So it was him after all.

"But how? And why me? You both are closer in proximity to him than I am."

Azerbaijan sipped his tea. "Honestly, we have no idea. His assistant called us in a hurry and told us what had happened. It was a "poof!" and he turned into a cat. Right in front of his eyes."

"As for why we can't take care of Uncle," North Cyprus added, "We're both pretty busy with work. We already asked your siblings if they were available, but they all seem pretty swamped with work too. You're the only one out of all of us who's taking a break. It made the most sense."

She sipped her tea and closed her eyes, hoping to retain some composure and calm down over this whole situation. She glanced at the cat in her lap, who at this point folded himself into a medium-sized loaf. It took everything in her not to squeal or spin him around or fawn at his adorableness. 

He may be a cat, but he was still Turkey. Anything she did, he'd never let her live down.

"And I take care of him for..."

"For now, about a week. We're working with his assistant and others to figure out what happened and how to stop it. If you need any help, just call us."

"I will, thank you. As...inconveniencing as this is, I'll try my best to take care of him. Do whatever you need to do to get him back to normal as quickly as possible."

 Azerbaijan gave her a plastic bag. In it was a change of clothes.

"This is for when he turns back to normal. And if you need us, just call."

With that, he stood up from the tapchan, with North Cyprus following suit.

"Behave around her, old man!" North Cyprus yelled. Turkey meowed back in retaliation. Cat in arms, she saw them to her main gate as they left. Once the door slammed, her attention went back to Turkey.

"Now, it was a 4-hour flight. You must be hungry. Conveniently, I have some chicken shashlik left over from yesterday evening. And some vegetables from the garden..." 

After running around back and forth from the kitchen, garden, and living room, she set a small plate of shashlik on the floor, and the orange cat devoured through it quickly.

"Slow down! Think about your digestion!" She warned him. He turned to look at her with a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! So what if I don't want you to die? You'd be leaving your poor dear nephew behind, and what then?" She scoffed and focused on folding the chuchvara she was cooking for herself.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

"I'm pregnant...with your child."

Uzbekistan gasped at the drama's plot twist as she absentmindedly stroked Turkey's fur with one hand and sipped on black tea with the other.

Turkey meowed.

"What? You know how this drama ends?"

He nodded.

"Well, thank goodness you're a cat," She shovels a spoonful of chuchvara into her mouth. "You wouldn't be able to spoil it anyway!"

Turkey let out an angry meow and sunk his claws into her pants.

"Ah!" She carefully put her spoon down and turned her body towards him, drama out of her mind.

"Do you know what you could've done? You could've burned me! Look!"

She grabbed him and held him up to show him her food on the dinner table, using his paw to point at various things.

"See? There's my soup here, and my tea there! What would have happened if I burned myself, hmm? Naughty cat!" 

Uzbekistan carefully set him down again, and turned back to eating her soup. It felt uncomfortably quiet. She snuck glances at him occasionally as she ate, and was slowly beginning to feel guilty for scolding him earlier.

She gently reached out to him, lightly brushing her hand over the top of his fur, before suddenly grabbing him and rocking him back and forth.

Ah! Why am I like this? I always forgive and never forget!

"I'm sorry for scolding you earlier! I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to let you know how dangerous it was to stick your claw into my leg!"

...So this is what Kazakhstan talks about...the overbearing sister that yells at you for doing something stupid and then crying about being too harsh not a minute later…

Turkey let out a meow that, to Uzbekistan, felt like one of remorse.

Her rocking slowed to a stop as she realized this wasn't just any cat. This was Turkey of all people.

She cleared her throat and stiffly placed him down.

Ehehe...I'm starting to like this arrangement...

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

She yawned as she completed washing the very last dish of the day. In the meantime, Turkey was enjoying a tuna snack Uzbekistan had on her shelf. "It was just in case I brought a cat over," she insisted.

She didn't think it would've been him eating the treats.

Uzbekistan dried her hands with a towel and crouched next to Turkey. The house was quiet, and she could hear crickets chirping outside and the gentle rustling of plants.

"Well, Turkey, since you'll be under my care and my household for the whole week, you must obey a simple rule."

He whined in protest.

"How else will I maintain order and calm in my house? It's just one rule. You may not touch any of my important objects. This includes glassware, makeup, documents, my phone and laptop, and this cabinet full of crystalware and other memorabilia I have collected from the Soviet Era." Her fingertips brushed a large wooden cabinet of all kinds of glass.

One rule, huh....? He could live with that.

Uzbekistan yawned, the type you'd hear from a princess. You could hear the sleep in her voice. "As it's getting late, I'll be going to bed. You can sleep in the guestroom, with all the cushions and pillows you need. I'll shop for tuna tomorrow."

What?! I'll be sleeping there? I thought I was sleeping with you!

Turkey glared at the guestroom and hissed.

"Are you worried about the guestroom? It has a bed, just like mine. There's a shelf full of bedding and pillows. If you're worried about evil spirits, don't be. This place has been perfectly rid of anything like that. Any more concerns?"

Turkey meowed, and…rolled his eyes? Was that even possible? Fine. I’ll stay in the guestroom.

Well, goodnight, Turkey." Uzbekistan smiled at him, scratched behind his ears(with a shaky hand), and closed her bedroom door. 

Finally alone, she ran to her bed and screamed into a pillow, rolling around from one side of the bed to another.

"My goodness..! This is so weird, how will I be able to handle this for a week?" She spoke to herself. "This is real. It's all real. I just spent a day with my....with Turkey as a cat!"

She didn’t know Turkey was right behind the door, the same feelings and thoughts racing through his mind.

God, I've actually spent the whole day at her house...and it'll be like this the whole week! Finally! But the one time I get to stay at her house overnight instead of going back to my hotel room...I'm a cat.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

*Erbolat: Kazakhstan's name, gifted to him by peonycats!!

*Rostem: Azerbaijan's name, also gifted to him by peonycats!

wiaow... the one time turkey gets to spend a night at uzb's house...but it's not quite the way he thought it would happen....

how will he survive a week? more importantly, will uzbekistan go crazy from having to take care of....someone she cares about...in cat form?

find out in the next chapter!

[queerenginseer]

So this sent me down a whole rabbit hole. Growing up as a part of a migrant Italian family, every single household had one of these Cristalleria display cabinets that contained all sorts of holy relics. Crystalware that was too good for us to use and even fondant sculptures from my parent's wedding that were preserved in their own personal mausoleum. Mum passed last year and had barely even touched a number of items she had hoarded throughout her life. Definitely don't want to make the same mistake. Drink from the glass and if it shatters go get another from the shelf.

A brief moment of rationality from the bird place.