#cubby hole wine bottle

[scottstilson]

Traditional Wine Cellar in Miami a sizable, attractive image of a wine cellar with display racks

[kaisaccofilm]

Traditional Wine Cellar in Miami a sizable, attractive image of a wine cellar with display racks

[home-stuck-in-desert-bluffs]

Indianapolis Rustic Home Bar Mid-sized rustic single-wall home bar design with medium tone wood floor and shaker cabinets, marble countertops, and wood backsplash

[rocksteadycafe]

Miami Large a sizable, attractive image of a wine cellar with display racks

[make-them-die]

Indianapolis Rustic Home Bar Mid-sized rustic single-wall home bar design with medium tone wood floor and shaker cabinets, marble countertops, and wood backsplash

[lordstormageddidnt]

Wine hole 🤝 milk hole

Okay. NO.

In my defense, I was 100% referring to the little in-the-wall cubby that old houses have for the milkman to slip milk bottles into. I didn't realize there was a different interpretation until the group chat went dead silent on me.

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

My Word Is My Bond

Part Two: You're addictive, so indicative of my inhibitions

After Eddie leaves, I stare at where he sat for a minute or so. I am trying to calm my heart down, but it's not working, thumping a groove into my ribs. I take another steadying breath, grab my bag and leave without even saying goodbye to Stella.

The night is dark, I am incredibly skittish as I walk the short way from the bar to home. My platform boots click along the cobbled streets as I wind down the back alley to get to the stairs that lead to the flat above my shop. I quietly head up the metal stairs to my door, finding my hands shaking as I try to put the key in the right lock. My fingers fumble and they fall to the floor.

Fuck.

As I rifle through my bag I can hear Chance scratching at the door, wanting to see me. I quickly find the little glass vial with black pepper in it and sprinkle it over the dropped keys before picking them up and letting myself in. My large french mastiff jumps at me, drooling with happiness. I allow myself to be briefly comforted by the familiar smell of lavender and smoke and the feeling of Chance's soft fur under my fingers. As soon as the doors locked behind me I head to the largest bedroom, which I have turned into my workroom, followed by the dog's nails softly clicking on the wooden floor as she sticks to my side.

Every wall is covered in large, rosewood bookshelves, three of the walls of square cubby holes are filled with ingredients, crystals, little vial bottles, and other elemental objects needed in my work and life. The last wall of shelving is filled with books,  framing a huge rosewood desk, cluttered with half-unfurled scrolls, crystals, and half-made spell jars.

I quickly get to work,  first gathering all the obsidian I can, going around the flat, and placing them on my doorways and windows, anywhere that could potentially be an entrance into my home. My eyes search my bookshelves, looking for the cracked leather spine of Protecting Yourself from the Supernatural.

I find it, find the page on vampire repellents and grab some glass jars and vials and begin stuffing them with garlic, rosemary, and salt - stopping briefly as the smell of these ingredients reminded me of roast potatoes - before continuing to add some moon water, silver shavings, and cemetery dirt.

Once I have three of these jars assembled I begin to place them around the flat, before going to my alter, I fill the cup with red wine, and the bowl with salt and pour frankincense over these before placing my keys next to these offerings.

"I invoke the power of Janus, and offer these gifts in exchange for safety this night, please keep me safe in my home and do not allow anyone with bad intentions to cross my thresholds." I murmur as I light the incense stick in its holder.

I bow my head, reciting the blessing again and once my ritual is done I feel myself relax. Exhaustion creeps into me. I climb off the floor and head to my bedroom. The majority of the floor space is taken up by my huge bed, I dive into my duvet, Chance already snoring on it, head barely hitting the pillow before I'm falling asleep, my last fleeting thought of smoldering dark eyes.

The next morning the sunlight creeps over my still fully dressed body, waking me gently. I feel so rested it takes a moment for me to remember last night. Panic grabs at my heart briefly but it dissipates quickly, replaced by a feeling I am surprised by. It's almost a yearning, I want to see Eddie again.

Why?

Do I have a death wish?

Let's not go down that road.

I try and shake my head free of these thoughts as I pull myself out of bed and head to the kitchen to feed the furbaby. I begin to boil sweet potatoes and pull salmon out of the fridge. Chance is padding around the kitchen, tail wagging as I make her breakfast.

"You eat better than I do." I laugh as I mash more vegetables with fish oil and walnut oil.

Just as the potatoes are nearly done I switch on the coffee machine, head to the bathroom, and start running the bath.  

"We're multitasking today Little Miss," I say to Chance as she stands in the bathroom doorway, glaring at me for daring to do anything other than focus on her food.

I head back into the kitchen, ignoring my reflection as I catch sight of it, insane hair and makeup remnants all over my face. I finish the dog's food, mashing sweet potatoes and salmon into the bowl and placing it on the floor next to her freshly filled water bowl. I drop a little bowl of coconut water next to the others for her and I see her glance at it as she dives facefirst into her sweet potato.

The coffee machine makes a noise letting me know it's ready to go and I fix myself an iced oat latte, finally adding a dash of vanilla syrup, in my favourite pink glass, taking it into the bathroom, my rolling box tucked under my arm, to finish running my bath. My bathroom shelves are just a smaller version of my crafting room - vials of essential oils, dried flowers and plants, crystals and even some homemade bath bombs.

I grind up weed, dried rose, lavender, and some CBD flower and roll myself a serenity joint. I spark it, turn the taps off and begin to smoke as I throw various things into the bath to make me feel a little better. The smell of my house and shop, and sometimes me, can be overwhelming for some people but it's unavoidable in my line of work and my genes.

I throw in pink Himalayan salt, rose water, jasmine, and dried rose in the steaming bath and sink into the water. The burn is soothing to my body. I smoke my joint and sup my iced coffee, enjoying the tingly sensation of the water, the bath spell seeping its way into my skin and soul. I let my head sink under the water and allow myself to be submerged.

It's only after I have sat in the water for half an hour I realise what I have been sitting in. I jump out of the bath so quickly that I get water everywhere. I pull the plug and step into the shower to try and cleanse myself of the love spell bath I'd just been sat in.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

My mind flashes with brown eyes and a lopsided smile.

Fuck.

My subconscious is a horny bitch.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 9 (NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW 18+++++ SMUT SMUT SMUT/ SWEARING AND MORE SMUT. 

word count: 2.7k

OOOOh look. Smut. I hope you like it :) 

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The journey in your mind seemed to take forever. It was at this point where you were all alone, that the nerves about what was to come really set in. Before you knew it you were at the large wooden doors, behind them, Sauls room. 

“It’s now or never Y/N.” Again with your little pep talks, your subconscious Jiminy Cricket giving you the push you needed. You didn’t know if you should knock or just go in. He was expecting you after all. You decided on the later and tried the door handle. Unlocked. That gave you your answer as you took a tentative step inside the room you’d only been in a handful of times. 

Everything about the room screamed Saul. It was his little man-cave, a place where he could chill after all the hard work he did every day. A large flat screen was mounted on the wall in front of his bed. His bed, sleek, large and modern. The sheets so flat and well made that you cold bounce a penny off them. Under the tv was a long wooden cabinet, hidden away in the cubby holes, a PS4, some cd’s and an array of different movies. You’d talked Saul in to watching some of your faves a while back, so he’d finally understand some of your references. You scanned the room. Not a thing out of place. The room was twice the size of your dorm, he had the whole floor of this wing to himself. Your favourite part about his practical penthouse, was the view. Off to the side, a wide balcony that overlooked all of Alfea, high enough that you could see way into the distance, the forrest, the lands, even the shimmer of the protective border. You could hear that Saul was in the shower, so you had a look around. You’d only been in his room a couple times, never venturing further than the ground floor living room, scared that one thing might lead to another and you wouldn’t be able to control yourselves. 

His bedroom was behind a wall of glass on the upper floor which you could see from where you stood. You weren’t joking when you said it was huge! It was to be expected. Saul practically lived at Alfea, even when there weren’t students kicking about. Off to the side of his bedroom you noticed a heavy metal door, no doubt his miniature armoury he had once told you about. You walked over to the kitchen, searching for a drink that would help keep your buzz alive. He’d asked you before tonight  what you wanted him to stock, your choice was wine, Rosé, white Zinfandel. He had several bottles, all different brands. Your heart skipped a beat. It was the little things like this that made you know how much he actually cared. You selected the one you wanted and reached into the high cabinet for a wine glass and poured some, sipping a little nervously, waiting for your man. Over to the side you noticed an old record player, beside that, a shelving unit filled with more records you’d ever seen. You picked something to set the mood, it would also alert him that you were here, but with his training, you were sure he already knew. 

You heard the light padding of footsteps and watched as Saul rounded the corner, shorts hung low on his hips, his torso completely bare, his abs and chest glistening under the lights, still slightly wet from his shower, his hair damp and messy. He’d never looked so good in that moment. You willed your brain to take a snapshot which would forever be saved for your wankbank. You didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol but god… your were hornier than a dog in heat. You crossed your legs which didn’t go un-noticed by Saul who smirked. The audacity. You rolled your eyes. 

“Miss Y/L/N, what a pleasant surprise, I thought i’d eventually have to come down there and drag you away in front of everyone.” He walked up to you slowly, one of his strong arms wrapping around you, his hand splayed on your back, bringing your body flush against his. You gulped. 

“Well, i’m here now aren’t I Mr Silva? Impatient are we?” You smiled up at him putting your free hand behind his head, weaving your fingers in his damp hair, pulling his face towards yours so you could kiss his soft lips. You groaned at the feeling, also at the feeling of Sauls hard cock growing against your stomach. That was the thing between you, it took you both two seconds within each others presence to be completely ready for each other. You were wetter than you’d ever been before, your lacy one piece under your dress sporting a soaked crotch right about now. 

“Happy birthday princess.” Saul spoke between the kiss, Your body still grinding up against him, brushing against his cock every now and again. “As much as I love this baby, I want to give you your presents.” He kissed you once more on the lips and adjusted his boner. Your cheeks were flushed and you wanted to strip yourself free of your dress. Saul wandered over to a draw near the tv, producing two small boxes neatly wrapped in shades of black and gold paper. He took you by the hand and sat with you on the leather sofa in the centre of the room. 

“Open this one first.” He handed you the box that was slightly bigger than the other. You unwrapped it and inside was another box. Inside that was a thin silver necklace, hanging from it, dog tags crafted from silver and embellished with diamonds, an exact replica of Sauls dog tags that he would have received in his training, just a bit more fancy. You instantly loved it, turning so he could put it on for you but he stopped you and handed you the other present first. You raised your eyebrows. Inside the paper was a smaller box, shaped like a geode, however inside this one, a ring sat atop crystals in the rock. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Now, I know this might seem early, don’t panic. It’s not an engagement ring.. yet. I want to marry you, I know there will never be anyone else for me. You’re all I want and will ever want until my last dying breath Y/N, this is a promise ring. It means that I promise, I will be with you forever, I will love you until the end of time and I promise to always protect you. I promise i’ll be your partner, your future and your best friend.” Your eyes were full of unshed tears and for the first time you noticed Saul’s hands shaking. He was nervous? He took the ring from you and placed it on the necklace with the dog tags making it complete as he fastened the clasp on your neck. 

Shock was the initial emotion you felt. Shock that someone loved you as much as Saul did after never having experienced love from anyone. Then love, heaps and waves of unconditional love for the man that sat in front of you. You didn’t know how to thank him. You just reacted. Raising yourself up from the sofa, you keeled on either side of Silva’s thighs, straddling him, pressing down so your mound was pressed again the bulge in his shorts. You started to grind a little earning a moan from Saul who had thrown his head back. 

“I love you Saul Silva, I love you so so much, I want you. I want you to make me yours fully.” You went harder, the friction from his cock driving you insane. You squealed when you were lifted into thin air, Saul throwing you over his shoulder cave man style. His hand came up to rest on your ass under your dress, needing the skin. He made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. You gulped, butterflies erupting in your stomach as one of his calloused fingers ran over your damp slit covered by the lace suit under your dress. Now you wished you’d just gone commando.

He let you go and you landed on his bed with a bounce. He was on you in seconds, his mouth trailing all the way from the inside of your leg up to your throat and to your mouth. He’d positioned himself so his hips were able to grind right against your core and you couldn’t help but moan into his hot mouth. Sauls fingers toyed with the hem of your dress that had ridden up your thighs, you lifted your body so he could grab it and pull it off over your head. He sat back on his haunches and whistled. You blushed and winked at Saul as his eyes looked over your body. 

“Is this the secret item you bought when we went shopping? I have to say, I love it.” His large hands ran over your lace body suit, nipples strained against it, visible to Saul through the thing mesh lace material. 

“All for you Mr Silva.” You smiled at him as his lust filled eyes lingered on your breasts. Your fingers toying with the band of his shorts. He looked up at you, an expression on his face like ‘are you sure?’ You pulled them down and gasped, not realising he was going commando. His cock sprung free and your breath halted. Jesus wept. That was not a normal size. How the hell was he going to fit? Looking up again you saw Saul with his signature smirk. 

“Like what you see baby girl?” His mouth came down on your neck, sucking and bitting slightly making your pussy clench with want and need. You’d never been this intimate with anyone before? Never even kissed someone until you met Saul. Now your man was here as naked as the day he was born. The alcohol still running through you was something you were grateful for, giving you a little more confidence. You reached down and took Saul’s hard cock in your small hand, he groaned as you ran you fingers up and down his shaft, feeling the bumpy veins and smooth skin, pre-cum leaking from the purple swollen tip. You licked your lips, a fire burning in your belly. You crawled forward on the bed, swaying your hips in the air, stopping with your face in front of Saul’s member. Before he could ask what you were doing he was in your mouth. Just because you were a virgin didn’t mean you didn’t watch porn, it had taught you a thing or two. Licking the tip, you collected the sweet and salty pre-cum and hummed happily. You wanted more, your tongue bottoming out on the underside of his cock, you took him as far down as you could, feeling the tip touch your tonsils. You gagged a little and came up for air. 

“You’re fucking amazing.” Sauls head was thrown back in ecstasy, his heart swelled with pride and pleasure, looking down at the woman kneeled in front of him. “Let’s get this off you shall we.” His finger snapped the bra strap and you grinned eagerly. You helped him push the straps down either side of your arms and stood up on the bed, shimmying out of the delicate one piece. You blushed, your arms coming to cover your exposed body, suddenly nervous about what he was seeing. His face hardened. 

“You better not be hiding from me darling. You don’t have to hide from me. I love every part of you.” He slowly moved your arms away, drinking in the sight before him. “Beautiful.” He kissed your stomach. “Perfect” He kissed your hip. “Sexy” He kissed one breast and then the other, your eyes fluttering closed as his expert tongue coiled around the sensitive nubs. You knelt up, pressing your bare chest against his, noticing how well your bodies fit together. You felt his member pulsing against your belly button. You needed him inside you. 

Laying back on the bed, you beckoned Saul forward with a finger, a come hither motion. He obeyed and took your thighs in his hands, pulling your legs apart, exposing your most personal and sensitive area. You were soaked, no doubt your juices visible for him to see. Saul licked his lips. He looked up at you asking for permission, you nodded your head. Within seconds his face was between your legs, you felt his nose brush against your sensitive nub and then his tongue was licking between your folds. Your eyes rolled and your body arched up seeking more. Your hand in his hair, tugging slightly as his pace began to quicken. There was something hot about the way you could hear your pussy squelching around his lips. He looked up smirking again. Always smirking, cheeky devil. His mouth glistening with your juices. You giggled. 

“I can’t believe I ever got so lucky Saul.” His head dove back down, licking and sucking, making your nerves tingle, your stomach erupted in butterflies and you could feel you were getting close, Sauls hand splayed on your stomach, pushing you down into the mattress as he ate you relentlessly. You hardly had time to cry out as you came around his tongue, screaming out his name as he kept going helping you ride out your earth shattering orgasm. 

Catching your breath, your legs still shaking around Sauls head, you wondered if this is how it would always feel. Would he always make you feel this way, would he always want you, would you be enough? For the first time in your life you told yourself yes. You were enough. 

“Are you ready to go all the way darling? If you’re not ready that’s absolutely fine, I can wait.” Saul rubbed his hands down your legs soothingly, still looking you over with heavy lust filled eyes. God you loved him. 

“I’m ready Saul, I’ve never been more ready.” With that he rolled on the condom and lined himself up. The engorged tip of his cock sitting at your entrance. You were tingling again, waiting patiently for what was to come. Suddenly nervous, you linked your fingers with Sauls for reassurance. 

“It’s okay baby, it will only hurt for a minute, i’ll be as slow and gentle as I can until you say you’re ready.” His dipped down, placing a soft kiss on your lips and moved his hips forward, his hand in between the both of you, guiding his member into your slick opening. You cried out into Sauls mouth. The pressure built as his hard flesh tore its way inside you. It burned slightly, but you knew it was just your walls getting accustomed to the sheer size of your man. You squeezed your eyes tight, Saul still planting kisses all over you as he finally bottomed out. 

“Oh Y/N, you’re so tight.” His head buried in the crook of your neck and he stayed still, letting you adjust to him.

“I think you can move now, but slowly.” You gripped Sauls forearms as he started to adjust his weight on top of you, pulling back, pushing in, pulling back, pushing in. He gyrated his hips, your eyes widened, god that felt good. The pain was slowly subsiding and you started to feel pure pleasure. Before long he was pounding you relentlessly, both of you had waited so long for this moment and now you were fully connected. You were one. If the static connection you had before was something, then what you felt now was EVERYTHING. 

“Faster Saul, i-i-‘m close.” You nails racked down his back, no doubt leaving bloody scratch marks, it seemed to fuel his fire as he pounded into you at a rapid speed. He leant down capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling it with his tongue. 

“Cum for me baby, cum on my cock. Let’s cum together.” You could feel his movements getting slower, sweat glistened on his forehead and you felt the build in your stomach. You closed your eyes tight, shuddering. 

“I-im gonna..” With two more strokes both you and Saul were crying out. You felt some warmth as Saul’s cum filled the condom inside you, your pussy squeezed around his shaft milking it for everything. Your legs shook as Saul collapsed on top of your slick body. Both breathing rapidly and holding onto each other like your lives depended on it. 

“Well that was one hell of a birthday present.”

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Well. THERE. WE. GO. I really hope you liked this chapter lol. If you did or have any comments, please comment below, like, share, follow <3 

CHAPTER 10 ------ CLICK HERE

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[winkydinkle]

Cersei started treating the world as ruthlessly as it did to her. She made the one thing that always kept her down, the source of her power. She didn’t do it with magic or superpowers, she did it by being a traditionally feminine lady and having so much fun along the way. To Queen Cersei 🍷

*drinks wine*

Since her youth, Cersei has been commodified and objectified by nearly everyone around her. Losing her mother at age four, her closest points of reference were Tywin and her brothers. Therefore, the primary understanding she has of herself is through the men around her. […] When Tywin orders her to marry Loras Tyrell, her face first lights in anger as she informs her father that she is the Queen Regent and not some broodmare for him to marry off. Seconds later, it dissolves into a desperate sort of sadness as she begs him, “Father, don’t make me do it again please.” 

It is hard for me to understand how someone could fail to see the complexities of Cersei’s character. She has never been the sort of one-dimensional sociopath that Ramsay Bolton was, even her most horrible acts have been motivated by her desire to protect both her children and herself at all costs. Many of the shows fan-favorite characters have committed similarly murderous acts, yet they remain beloved because their motivations are understood as more sympathetic than Cersei’s. Even her twin brother Jaime, who is similar to her in almost every way, is seen as a much more redeemable and loved a character than she is. Cersei, of course, has understood these double standards her entire life and sees how things fall around her differently because of her gender. (x)

[musingsbycaitlin]

I’m doing something big scary and posting a completed piece. Ahhhhh. It doesn’t have a title sorrynotsorry.

The prayers from the man upstairs are keeping me on edge. He paces back and forth, the length of the apartment, sporadically slamming his fists into idle pieces of furniture. All the while he prays. Not all are explicit, some just the repetition of words or phrases; safe delivery is one of his favourites.

         I’ve seen him before I think, not recently. At the pigeon holes downstairs; a ratted man, tall but hunched, shuffling through apartment 5B’s post. Glasses were digging into his hooked nose, leaving indents behind his ears, and his balding scalp spotted with grey, flaked as he moved. He resembled a wood louse, curved back and stubby hands, but his teeth bucked like a beaver, the hair on his chin more indicative of a mole. There were few parts of him human; a worn yellow cardigan with holes in the elbows and the wedding band stuffed with his puffy finger. He looked the kind of person you’d imagine would shout words of madness in his flat for hours on end.

         The doors in his apartment each have a specific sound when opened, all sound the same when slammed. The bathroom one is always accompanied by a cough or gag, the bedroom creaks on its hinges, the storage closet scrapes the floor and hits its handle on the wall. I get nervous when he opens the storage closet. He almost always goes to the bathroom right after, the bedroom before. It’s this in-between waiting, as the door scrapes against the laminate, hits its handle on the wall, and a slight shuffling and muttering can be heard, that unnerves me. Sometimes there’s a whimper or whine, which always sets off his praying again, and on those occasions he enters the bathroom sooner than usual, slamming the closet shut.

         A letter addressed to a Mr K Lenningham in flat 5B was left absently in my pigeon hole once, the stamp was first class, the writing on the envelope was cursive. For a few minutes I flipped it over in my hand, picked timidly at the seal on the back. The envelope was a pale blue and the faint markings of a greeting card poked through the thin paper. Someone approached from the stairs, shifting the weight of their laundry basket from hand to hand, and I stuffed the letter back into the appropriate cubby. It wasn’t there the next day.

         To my amusement, he watches a lot of football. Local mainly, familiar chants and player names bellow down from my ceiling, the volume of his tv turned up abnormally loud. He also drinks wine, something else I wouldn’t have guessed. I hear the pop of a cork most nights, often, but not always, followed by extensive cursing and the muttered repetition of what a mess, such a mess. Its when he drinks that his prayers become more fervent, escalating into loud yells and hoarse cries. Doors slam more frequently, the unacknowledged whimpering is heightened and becomes more of a squeal, the gagging as he enters the bathroom more urgent and flustered. Its as if, once a bottle of wine is opened, the flat becomes a hyperbole of itself. Even the silences are longer, more sinister. Where usually the faint cracking of a floorboard can be heard, a stiff blanket of quiet suffocates any noise. I’m scared to move in these moments, fear striking me still, and it becomes a cruel game between 4 and 5B of who will break first.

         It was about a week ago that I noticed the second voice. A stifled amen ending each of his prayers.

Let me give. Amen.

Soundless I pray. Amen.

Be safe. Safe delivery. Be safe, I pray. Amen.

The second voice changes every two days or so. First it was a high pitched, soft spoken whisper. A few days later and it had changed to a grainy, thick pant. Currently, it quivers in a European accent, each amen spoken with slightly different intonation as though not quite sure how to pronounce it. Whenever I hear it, mumbling behind his fanatics, I wonder how long it’s been there. This secondary voice, had it always responded to him? Had it always hung there, hushed by the apartment walls?

His gagging is becoming more frequent, he’s opening the storage closet more and more. The scraping of the door, the hitting of the handle, more urgent and frenzied than before. He goes into the bedroom rarely now, once maybe twice a day, and each time the creaking of the hinges drags out, moaning in pain, slow and careful. Football commentary still screams down every evening, the bottle of wine still opened most nights. The letters in his pigeon hole are stacking up. A week maybe two’s worth. I saw three marked Important.

I overheard some neighbours talking about a smell, sickly and thick, emanating from floor 5. A few proposed that some of the piping had blown, the sewage wasn’t flowing correctly, or even that the poor old woman at the end of the hall may have had an accident. It was clear they were wrong, they all knew it, I could tell by the looks on their faces. They stood across from one another in the laundry room, hands flapping frantically to emphasise the point, lips contorted as the words left them, reluctant to lie, ashamed. Quick glances around as they spoke, eyebrows furrowed when listening to the others’ ideas. Sooner or later, someone would have to be called. They mused the pest control, plumbers maybe.

Walking to work this morning I chanced a look. But a sideways flick turned into a stare as I stopped and wandered closer to the building. I’d left my curtains open, that would bother me all day I knew. Mr K’s curtain hung loose also, draped politely over the corner of his sofa swaying in the slight breeze, the flaky skin of his head poking up over the large cushiony back. There was someone else there, skinnier, paler maybe. And tall. Almost the height of the ceiling I should think, looming over him as he sat flicking through the channels. They too swayed with the slight breeze, gently rocking where they stood. Another faint figure, similar build and height, also lulling back and forth, posed in the hallway, shadowed.

 I continued on to work.

[emmyrosee]

Staying.

On The Run II

Part One.

This most certainly isn’t timely; hell, I doubt there’s any interest for this story anymore; but after writing it, scraping it, writing it and scraping it and finally getting it? I don’t care what you guys want, I’m happy 🥰

This certainly isn’t the most fun chapter, but boy HOWDY I was excited when I saw all my dots connect and UGH I’m pumped😂❤️

WARNINGS: verbal fighting, language

Gordan Merkel x Fugitive!Reader; after a series of unfortunate events lands you in East Berlin, you fear almost everyone and everything that lands in your path. And it forces you to cross with a stranger who takes a risk on you.

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“I’m sorry it’s nothing fancy.”

You can’t help but find some humorous comfort in the words. Gordan’s small home definitely wasn’t anything fancy. Two bedrooms, one full bathroom with a small half in the hallway. The kitchen was standard, present as soon as you walk past the frame of the front door.

You clutched the blanket around your shoulders tighter as your eyes scan the room thoroughly. Some art work decorated the light brown walls, curtains drawn tight. It wasn’t exactly in the city, a small cel de sac in which houses were spread along the curve. According to Gordan, the lovely people who lived there were more than happy to either assist him or become part of the rebellion, so while hiding you would be mandatory, being heard would only be concerning if they caught your face.

Allegedly.

Woods decorated the backyard and seemed to stretch for miles, and the sun raising was no match for the branches.

It seemed fine, small and sweet as it stays happily in the ground. You most certainly are ready to regrow your clipped wings and sleep on a bed, with lamps and blankets and windows with golden sunlight to peek through them.

That is, until Gordan guides you gently to The Room.

Hidden only by the back of a reclining chair, The Room is a small cubby-like hole, dropping down to a five-foot tall landing. The small opening is a perfect square, and the short stool just under it seems large in comparison to just how little of room there is to spare.

Boxes of liquor and crates of naught magazines take up even more room, and in the corner, a pile of blankets and a single pillow on top of a twin mattress. There’s a small pile of empty water bottles and discarded wrappers of German junk food that litter the already messy hole, and you can barely make out the small lamp and curtain drawn window against the wall.

“It’s not exactly the most spacious or comfortable room,” Gordan sighs, staring in the dark room. “But my rebels, they use the it as well. It’s never failed me before.”

Your eyes fixate on the small space, wondering silently as to how many rebels were in this port before. Gordan smiles, “it’s a lot bigger than it looks. And it’s only for a couple hours a day. When I get back home, assuring everything is shut, I will be able to let you out.”

Your eyes drift over at Gordan, who’s smiling face is focused on the Room. He holds an expression of relief, and while you can’t pinpoint your feelings, a certain calmness washes over you as well.

He seemed to have that effect on people- hell, he was able to ground you after being so skittish for three years. His whole aura was full of protection, and you couldn’t help but relish in this new feeling.

This was going to work.

—

The first few days were fine.

From 6:30 am, to 8:30 pm, Gordan was out at work. When he comes home, he doesn’t talk much about his day, though he pours you both a glass of wine and starts to make dinner before scurrying off to bed. You’re allowed to walk around when he’s home, but when he goes to bed, you’re only allowed three hours to completely get your “freedom” fix.

Television volume can only be one-fourth of the way up, and make sure the stereo is turned all the way down before playing.

Fridge is open to anything, as is the library and shower, and it all just worked.

And just as it started to come together, you could feel it slowly slipping apart.

Gordan had been staying later and later, cooking less and less and being unable to buy more and more groceries. The Room locked from the outside, though he left a lock-picking-Kit in case of any emergencies. The window creates some light, same with the lamp, but they’re so dim, what’s the point.

He’s given you books to read, mainly about Sweden and the culture and language, you assume it’s sorta like a last resort.

But you can only read for so long.

You can only count the marks on your face and deal with the flicking of the lamp, and draw shapes in the water-stains on the window for so long.

More often than not, you just end up sleeping.

Or, sort of sleeping? It’s hard to tell anymore, you think you’re asleep with how dark it is, but sometimes your muscle jerks and you think “hey, that’s never woken me up before” only to the repeat the cycle. Before, the scary shapes your imagination would try to pain through the darkness would scare you. Now they’re you’re friends, and you feel your heart shatter when they leave.

At least when you were on the run, you had endless space... here, you’re not quite sure what you have.

You just know it’s not nearly enough.

You feel you’re homesickness transform from your home and family, to the streets.

Little did Gordan know just how bad you wanted to go back.

———

You’re not quite sure when you dozed back off.

You must’ve as a loud clomp! makes your eyes fly open, only to slowly fall back shut.

Then to fly back open as the sound of thick, heavy boot-steps pound on the floor in front of the room, and after a loud screech of furniture moving, the lock to the door clicks open, head spinning wildly at the noise. Your eyes fall to the dim alarm clock.

11:42.

At night? Had you honestly been left alone for 16 hours? Left to nothing but sleep and count hair follicles on your arms?

There’s an immense, sudden flood of light that clouds your vision, and in the middle of it was Gordan Merkel. The first part of you is washed with relief, it’s just him and not the authorities as he could’ve easily given you away.

The second part of you? Rage.

“My sincerest apologies,” he says immediately, watching cautiously as you crawl out of the room. “I had to stay late, make some adjustments to files and shit. What can I get you? Are you hungry?”

With each excuse and word that Gordan says, your arms tighten over your chest, and tears sting the back of your eyes.

“Please?” He continues, “I’ll make some dinner and-“

“You’re unbelievable!” You shout, storming out of the room. Gordan’s eyes widen as he shushes you, waving his hands to quell your anger.

“I can explain-“

“I am not some fucking dog!” You scream.

“Please do not yell, we can’t stir suspicion-“

“Fuck your suspicion! You cannot leave me for hours on end with no food, no water, a crappy sense of time, what kind of monster are you!”

“There were issues at work I had to resolve,” Gordan says firmly, gripping your biceps. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“I don’t have to trust you with anything,” you hiss. You flick yourself away in anger, and Gordan pushes the fallen strands of his gelled hair back, his face holding venom so powerful, you feel sick. It sends a chill through you, and as much as you hate him, you know he’s in control.

“People who actually have to stay here, stay quite and keep to themselves. You think I like having to hide a fugitive such as yourself in my house, putting both of us in extreme goddamned danger? Do you not understand the risk I am taking for you?”

You freeze, and your heart stops. Of course you knew what a risk he was taking. Anyone associated with hiding you could be in jail themselves, but was supporting him really worth being treated like an animal?

“Y-yes, Mr Merkel,” you whimper, looking at your feet.

Evidently, yes.

Gordan takes a stride towards you, eyes still firm and authoritative. “I promised you safety, and safety is what I give you. If you are truly unhappy with my methods, you do not have to stay. Make my life safer. One less tally of suspense on my back.”

Your heart stops as if Gordan held the button to make it cease, and he just pressed it. You knew you wanted to stay, it was warmer and more assuring than outside. It was better. Gordan was nice to you, this much you knew for sure. You’d been lying to yourself, the streets were scary, you never wanted to go back.

You shrink back from him, slowly turning on your heel to blink and dab at the tears burning your sleepless, aching eyes.

You hate him. You hate him you hate him you fucking hate him. You hate this control he holds over you. You hate this twisted freedom-hostage situation. Of course you can leave anytime. You know he’s not going to stop you, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.

Against your own will, a tight, nearly silent sob squeaks through your trembling lips, and behind you, you hear Gordan sigh.

“Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want you to cry, look at me.”

Slowly, your shaking frame turns to face him, and as you see his softened, easy face, another sob catches your throat. He crouches to meet your gaze, and when you try to look away, he tips your chin to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he says, low and firm. “I want you to be safe, alright? Your being here makes me feel like I have a control of you being alright. I don’t know what they’ll do to you if those morons find you- what I do know is when you’re here, yes, I might be late, but you’re here. And the plan is just one day closer. Do you understand me?”

You blink up at him and say nothing, a thick, hot tear slipping down your warmed cheek. He wipes it away with his knuckle, clearly unable to see how he hurt you. “But, if I’m going to keep you as safe as I can, I have to make it seem like nothing has changed. If I make anything questionable, rumors will fly. And I cannot lie to my rebels. So,” he gently grips your chin in his hand. “For now, I need you to just trust me, alright?”

Your eyes avoid his, and you gently nod your head in understanding. Gordan sighs and pushes himself up, “as long as the curtains stay closed, feel free to roam.” He rolls up his sleeves and gently walks down the hall, leaving you and your spinning head alone in the darkened living room.

Another weak, pathetic sob rips through you, and with nothing better to do, you climb back into the room, easing the door shut, part of you secretly hoping that Gordan would forget you.

Forget you, your crimes, and everything in between.

------

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[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Everything Money Can Buy (8/12)

Summary: The Greatest Store in the World AU. When misfortune strikes and leaves Emma Swan and her son homeless just before Christmas, the ever-resourceful Emma has a ready solution. They’ll move into Mills Department Store, a place they can only dream of affording to buy from. It’s not easy, having to deal with a perpetually grumpy doorman, a nasty assistant manager, and an extremely suspect Santa, but Emma and Henry soon learn that the kindness of strangers is something money can’t buy.

Swan Believer centric, with eventual Swan Queen and background Rumbelle and Dwarf Star.

Rated: G

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [AO3]

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Eight

It was Christmas Eve, and despite everything, Henry was feeling rather upbeat about it. They had snuck out of Mills with the cleaners like normal, and they had spent most of the rest of the day walking around town trying to keep warm, holing up in the library when it got too cold to stay outside. 

Unfortunately, the library was closing early due to it being Christmas Eve, and so they had come back to the slightly less well-stocked and slightly more upmarket library that was the Mills book department. Gold hadn't said anything as he'd let them in, but at least he hadn't stopped them. Maybe because he hadn't seen them leave in the morning, he could claim some kind of plausible deniability for himself.

Mum had gone to check on the bags, and Henry was sitting in his usual armchair, tucked away behind a pillar, hidden from the view of the cash desk by a strategically placed display of Harry Potter merchandise. The display had not been strategically placed there when Henry had first started hanging around in the department, but he had moved it by inches with no one noticing and now he had quite the cosy hideaway.

"Pst!"

Apparently, not quite hidden away enough. Cautiously, Henry looked over the top of his book to see Astrid from the tearoom peeping around the Harry Potter merchandise. She smiled at him and squeezed past the display, catching the life-size sorting hat as it toppled precariously from its perch.

"I thought I might find you here; I've seen you here a couple of times."

Henry didn't say anything, very much wishing that Mum would come back from the camping section in the nick of time and rescue him from whatever predicament was about to unfold. Although, then again... He thought of the past couple of evenings, of the sell-by food packed away separately in the fridge ready for them so that they wouldn't have to hunt for it, the very splattered chocolate cake.

"Leroy and I clubbed together and used our staff discount to get you some things." She handed him a small carrier bag from the food hall. "Stuff that's got really long sell-by dates that you wouldn't get to have ordinarily. You know, since it's Christmas tomorrow and all."

Henry looked inside the bag. There was a Christmas pudding, a bag of candied nuts, a pack of Christmas cake slices, and a single serving bottle of mulled wine along with a selection of confectionary.

"There are also instructions on how to work the microwave without blowing out the plug," Astrid added helpfully. "They're on the back of the receipt. I know it's bad form to include receipts, but I didn't want you to be accused of pinching it."

Henry just stared at the gift for a long time, completely unsure of what to say. He and Mum had relied on the goodwill of strangers in the past, but this was the first time he could remember that something had been given to him completely unbidden and out of the blue like this. Astrid was about to squeeze back out past the sorting hat (it was a good job that it was supposed to look battered) when he realised that he hadn't actually said anything to her, least of all expressed his gratitude.

"Thank you," he blurted out. "And thank Leroy too."

Astrid smiled. "You're welcome. I think everyone deserves to have nice things at Christmas."

"How did you know?" Henry asked. "About us, I mean."

"Well, I knew that someone had been taking the sell-by food overnight, because you saved me a job sorting it and clearing it out in the morning. And I knew that I hadn't broken the microwave and it had been working perfectly fine when I went home, so someone else must have broken it between me going home and me coming back in the morning."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's ok." Astrid waved away his worries. "Leroy's a master with a screwdriver, he had it back up and running again in no time. And everyone's so used to everything going wrong around me that it wasn't exactly unexpected. Breaking the microwave is really quite minor compared with some of my other kitchen-based mishaps."

Henry laughed. "I'm sorry you got the blame though."

Astrid shrugged. "My shoulders are broad. Have a great Christmas."

"Thanks. I'm sure we will. How... How did you know that it was me? Out of all the people in the store?"

Well, that took a bit of detective work. Leroy and I figured out that someone must be staying in the store overnight, and we voiced our theory to Belle, what with her seeing everyone coming and going. I mean, I would have asked Gold because he really sees everyone coming and going, but he scares me witless. Anyway, Belle confirmed it and said that it was you. Like I said, we've seen you around here a lot in the last few days. No one spends that much time in a department store not buying anything."

Henry was slightly worried as to how many other people had noticed them. At least the sphere of people who knew for certain seemed to be limited to Belle, Gold, Astrid, and Leroy, all of whom he was fairly sure that he could trust not to betray their secret to someone with less benign intentions.

"Henry?"

Mum was back, peering around the display where Astrid was blocking her way. The waitress gave a cheerful wave and squeezed back out.

"Merry Christmas!"

Mum stared at her retreating back for a long time, then she looked at Henry, then back towards Astrid, who had long since vanished into the crowd, up towards the tearoom again.

"Have I wandered into a parallel universe?" She came into Henry's cubby hole, settling herself down on the floor in front of him and taking a look in the carrier bag. "God, I haven't had mulled wine for years. What's going on?"

Henry regaled Astrid's tale, not entirely sure that he wasn't in a parallel universe himself. For a long time, Mum didn't speak.

"I suppose that it just goes to show that there are good people in the world after all," she said eventually. "I've always been sceptical of the idea of the kindness of strangers. I guess that you and I have seen so little of it over the years that I just thought it didn't exist. You never get something for nothing; people always want something in exchange for their help. But Astrid, Leroy, Belle, Gold... They've all helped us out, in their own ways, and expected nothing in return."

"Maybe it's the Christmas spirit," Henry suggested.

Mum gave a huff of laughter. "Yeah, maybe you're right. It's almost a shame it's so close to closing time. We could have gone out again and shown Gold that we actually have a Mills bag this time. I'm not sure whether it would make him laugh or send him into apoplexy."

"I hope not apoplexy." Henry had no idea what apoplexy was, but it sounded painful, and since Gold had already proved himself trustworthy with their secret, he didn't really want anything too bad to happen to him.

Mum smiled. “Yeah, it’s Christmas. We shouldn’t really wish anything bad on anyone. And I don’t think Gold’s as bad as I make him out to be most of the time.” She paused, getting comfortable leaning against the armchair before looking back up at Henry. “He told me that he had a son your age, actually, so he probably doesn’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

“Huh.” It was strange to think of Gold as having a life and a family outside of the store. It had been weird enough seeing him in a Christmas jumper on that first morning when they were sneaking out.

He wondered if Gold’s son knew about the little romance between Gold and Belle, and what he thought of it. Henry personally thought that it was rather sweet, but then again, it wasn’t his dad. He leaned back in his chair, wondering about Mum and the dark-haired woman from the staircase. He was definitely rooting for that romance, whoever the mysterious stranger turned out to be.

X

Belle was in a quandary, and she was also in a hurry. It was only ten minutes before the cash desks closed and the food hall was already beginning to wind down for the night with fresh produce being packed away back to the central chillers. It wasn’t her fault that she had left her Christmas shopping so late. Well, it wasn’t exactly her fault. She had indeed left it until the last possible day, but she hadn’t intended to leave it till the last possible moment. She’d intended to buy on her lunch break, but things being as they stood, she hadn’t had one. It had been all she could do to persuade Zelena to let her off the desk twenty minutes before her time, because she’d spent her entire lunch break politely telling a customer that no, her Christmas hamper order was not ready for collection, because all hamper orders had to be placed before the nineteenth of December in order to guarantee collection by Christmas Eve, and since this customer had only placed her order yesterday, naturally, the hamper was not ready.

How it had taken over half an hour for her to get this into the woman’s skull was beyond Belle, but hey, unbelievable customers were all part and parcel of the Christmas experience.

Anyway, she had ten minutes left to buy, and she was stumped. At least it was only one gift. Indeed, it was rather a spur of the moment decision to buy it in the first place, which was why everything had been so rushed.

She’d decided to get Alistair something. Nothing big, nothing ostentatious, just a little something to remind him that no matter how bleak his Christmas might look, what with his son being away with his mother again, there was still someone who cared for him and wanted to make sure that his day had a little cheer in it.

“I recommend the caramel, personally.”

Belle looked down to see the little boy who was living in the store standing next to her. His mum was a few metres away, looking at a display of Turkish delight. She was carrying a small food hall carrier bag, and Belle smiled, glad that Astrid and Leroy’s gift had reached its intended recipients. The boy was looking at the rows of chocolate bars with the eye of a practised connoisseur, and he beamed at her beatifically.

“I love caramel,” Belle admitted. “The thing is, I’m not buying it for me.”

“Mr Gold?” the boy suggested. There was something distinctly mischievous in his eyes, but it was softened by a sparkle of genuine hope.

“I… What… How did you…” Belle’s shoulders sagged. “Yes.”

“Hmm. He strikes me more as a peppermint person.” The boy reached up for the peppermint bar in its shining turquoise and silver wrapper, but he couldn’t quite reach. Belle grabbed it.

“Yes, I think you’re right. I know he drinks peppermint tea; I’ve smelled it in the flask he keeps behind the customer service desk.”

Her companion gave an emphatic nod. “You know, I think I could be a personal shopper. That’s what they do, isn’t it? Tell you what to buy?”

Belle laughed at the summation. “Pretty much. Thanks for the suggestion, kid.”

“My name’s Henry.” He held out a hand solemnly, and Belle shook it.

“I’m Belle.”

“I know. It’s on your name tag.” Henry looked around the food hall. “Who’s that lady over there?” he asked. “We’ve seen her around a few times, but she never wears a name tag.”

Belle followed his sightline, but before he could point out the person in question, the five-minute warning came over the PA system and she had to rush to the checkout to pay for Alistair’s gift. By the time she returned to the confectionary section, Henry and his mother had both disappeared, no doubt slipping away to find a place to hide whilst the store closed down. Belle felt her stomach flip-flop in her mouth.

She should have warned them about the party.

[kritiverma]

Wine Room Ideas – these chic ideas are the ultimate in wine storage

These are chic wine room ideas suggested by top interior designer in Delhi that will inspire you to organize and showcase your wine collection – or give you the perfect excuse to start collecting.

These chic wine room ideas will inspire you to organise and showcase your wine collection – or give you the perfect excuse to start collecting.

If you look forward to wine o’clock every evening, why not turn a spot in your home into a stunning wine room?

Whether you have an enviable collection of fine wines or like to stock up on cases of your favourites tipple, it’s essential to store your wines properly so it keeps well. Don't have room for a dedicated wine room or wine cellar? We've looked around for some clever designs that show how you can transform an under stairs cupboard, a corridor, utility cupboard or kitchen corner into a striking feature that showcases your wines – no basement required.

From modern illuminated cabinets to more rustic ideas, there are wine room ideas here to suit every home. Wine cabinets and tall wall racks will help make a striking wine display, and giving it ladder access is both practical and super stylish. Built-in drawers with leather drawer pulls are a chic way to hide barware like corkscrews, glass decanters and other accessories. Glass doors will add a high-end feel to your new wine cellar, and displaying bottles on their side will make the labels easier to read, while wood grooves to hold the bottle necks in place will help prevent the bottles from rolling around.

Got a spare room (and a penchant for a cheeky Bordeaux)? Then a temperature-controlled display room that makes a feature of your prised wine collection can be yours. You'll need to think about climate control, as wine is delicate and doesn’t do well with big temperature and humidity fluctuations.

Got yourself a wine room already? Give it a window that offers an enticing teaser of what’s inside. You'll also want to invest in good lighting, plus maybe even a bar table and stools for serving and lounging at, as well as a small wine fridge for champagne or fragile aged wine.

Don't have a room to dedicate to your wine collection? Transform a basement corridor into a striking wall-to-wall illuminated wine display, or transform under-stair storage to create a wine display behind glass doors.

You could also create a dual-function utility space by having wines on show, and hiding more functional things like washing machines, freezers and dryers behind sleek cabinetry. Dividing the utility room from the kitchen with Crittall doors will give it a modern look.

Got a basement that's barely used? Create a full basement wine cellar, both for storage and for hosting wine tastings for friends. An underground wine cellar with a secret door will be the envy of all your friends. Underground spiral cellars don’t even require an existing basement. But they do give you instant access to your collection via a top door and a – you guessed it – spiral staircase. Made from concrete and with an external diameter of 2.3 metres, they’re capable of holding up to 1900 bottles of wine. They can be installed under any ground floor room – great for kitchens but striking in a hallway too. We’re sold.

1. WOODWORK

This stunning wine room features built-in wood racks for wine bottles, plus a striking petrified wood splash back for added drama.

2. WINE BAR

This stunning, modern wine room and wine bar area features a narrow glass table ledge with bubbles inside, reminiscent of champagne bubbles. But it’s the modern pendant lighting here that really steals the show.

3. WALL RACK

Smart, leather drawer pulls are a chic way to hide accessories, while illuminated cabinets and tall wall racks make a striking wine display.

4. ROOM WITHIN A ROOM

This small timber wine room is a a room within a room, providing plenty of space for a collection of vintage cigar boxes. The whole concept behind the wine room is that it’s a big cigar box, with many little cigar boxes inside, some of which are 300 to 400 years old.

5. PANTRY STYLE

This glass wine room showcases the bottles in open shelving (accessible via a cool modern ladder), while wine glasses are stored behind cupboard doors. The wine room is just off the kitchen, separate by Crittall doors.

6. SECRET WINE CELLAR

An underground wine cellar with a secret door will be the envy of all your friends. Underground wine cellars by Spiral Cellars give you instant access to your wine collection via a top door and a – you guessed it – spiral staircase. Made from concrete and with an external diameter of 2.3 metres, they’re capable of holding up to 1900 bottles of wine. They can be installed under any ground floor room – great for kitchens but striking in a hallway too. Installation is short with little to no mess, you won’t need planning permission to have one installed, and the built-in ventilation system continuously replaces warm air with cool air. We’re sold.

7. UTILITY ROOM

This striking utility room by Day True makes a striking feature out of wine bottles, while keeping washing machines out of sight from the kitchen. It makes the most of this small room in giving it a dual function.

8. WALLPAPERED

A bright wallpaper cheers up this wine room, and makes a fun change from the more serious, masculine designs. The wallpaper is a famous design from Scalamandre, featured here in Masai red.

9. OLD & NEW

This custom wine cellar combines custom walnut cabinets with modern steel doors.

10. WINE WINDOW

We also love the idea of giving your wine room a window that offers an enticing teaser of what’s inside.

11. ON THE SIDE

In this wine room, bottles are mostly displayed on their side, making the labels easier to read.

12. WINE CORRIDOR

Don't have a room to dedicate to your wine collection? Transform a basement corridor into a striking wall-to-wall illuminated wine display.

13. DISPLAY RACKS

Wall racks make a striking display, and also make it easier to read the labels.

14. FULL BASEMENT

Got a basement that's barely used? Create a full basement wine room, both for storage and for hosting wine tastings for friends. This lower level houses a 2,200-bottle wine cellar and tasting room.

15. UNDER THE STAIRS

Not so sure about where to keep your wines, and run out of rooms in the house? Transform under-stair storage to create a wine display behind glass doors. Swoon.

16. EASY ACCESS

This glass wine room by Blakes London features illuminated shelves that make it easier to view and pick up your bottle of choice. Wood grooves hold the bottle necks in place, preventing the bottles from rolling around.

17. LADDER STORAGE

Ladder access is both practical and super duper stylish.

18. ON DISPLAY

A walk-in pantry by Design Space London makes the most of the height with full height shelving. The space is also climate controlled, offering the ultimate in food and wine storage.

19. KITCHEN WINE STORAGE

Built-in cubby holes are a rather lovely way to keep a wine selection within easy reach of the kitchen and dining space.

20. GLASS BOX

This kitchen by Blakes London features a glass box; perfect for housing a wine collection.

21. REGAL BLUE

A regal blue butler’s pantry with built-in wine storage and bar dazzles with exposed metal shelving, antique mirror detailing, and campaign style cabinets that are lined in polished nickel. Polished nickel gallery lights set a dramatic tone, stylishly highlighting the spirits and barware below.

[aausblogger]

Smart Tips to Build an Outdoor Bar from Concrete Blocks

Want to give an exclusive touch to your backyard? That too within your estimated budget! It is time to build a bar of high quality concrete. You can easily enjoy the fun of an outdoor bar without going through high complicacies. Bar Made of Aggregate Concrete will Withstand Any Weather The time has come to take advantage of high quality cinder blocks along with glassware and towels. This bar made up of superfluous aggregate concrete in Adelaide will stand still in all types of weather conditions including strong winds and dreary weather. You can grab a suitable partner and put your gloves altogether to come up with an exclusive construction. Prior beginning, it will be a good idea to determine the width along with location for the outdoor bar. Once done with assembling, painting parts of bar legs with water-based paint will give a finishing touch. Things Required for Starting the Project What you need to start with your project? Below are some important tools and materials that must not be missed out at any cost: Saw Drill Tape measurement Sandpaper Paintbrush Blocks (both half cement and full cement) Concrete glue Tape and screws Once done with assembling all tools, it is time to start with the building procedure. How to Start with the Building of the Bar? Building a bar of exclusive quality concrete in Adelaide is not at all a big challenge as it seems. Below are step by step directions that will help you to come out with the desired construction: Setting up of blocks - For building up the base, it is preferable to lay out the blocks properly. As you will be building two legs for your bar, it is essential to adhere blocks with concrete glue. The more distance you keep between legs, more you need to stretch. Once you decide and done with the project, it will be better to have concrete blocks on either side. The glue must be left for drying. Cutting of the bar top – For cutting the bar top, you need to stack and tape together boards. You must ensure that the cutting takes place from opposite ends. Boards must span the overall length of concrete base, reserving the leftovers. Braces must be screwed at each end of the bar top. Installing of bar aprons – To install bar aprons, the length measurement you are about to take must be accurate. After done with the cutting, they must be attached at the front and back to the bar top with aggregate concrete in Adelaide. Pre-drilling of all holes and sanding all edges is recommended for best outcome. Painting and setting bar top – Now is the turn of painting the bar top with desired colour. After successful application of colour, it must be set for drying. Glue made of concrete in Adelaide must be used for attaching the top to bar legs. Finally, it is the time to add some finishing touch! Once glue has dried, it must be filled with goodies. You may place a bottle of wine along with napkins and cups in the cubbies of the block. For natural look, you may fill the bar with plants. You can enjoy a good time in your own bar without leaving the comfort of your home.   Read the full article

[eatplusdrink]

Wally's Beverly Hills

Wally's Beverly Hills 447 N Canon Dr, Beverly Hills, CA 90210 http://www.wallywine.com ($$$)

Drink, then Eat.

Being a 'critic' can be difficult at times.  A critic doesn't get to take personal opinion and simply make it public. There's a need to be level headed; try to remove a little ego before writing about the topic. Being a critic means using a bar to measure everything against that has little to do with whether I personally enjoy the Beverly Hills scene and more to do with what makes a good wine list or an upscale kitchen. It takes visiting a place often at various times of day to find out what they do consistently and what was a fluke.  It takes more fortitude and patience than I have. And yet, for that neighbor, I keep trying. 

On a personal note (sshhh, this isn't part of the review right?), Wally's isn't my vibe. I become enamored with restaurants that are quaint, small, not scene-y, but still deliver good food and/or drinks. I like to go to the local Pescadaro and order a whole fried fish with Micheladas while listening to the clientele sing Mexican pop music on the karaoke machine. I enjoy Italian restaurants that boast one of the best wine cellars in the nation with food to match. It is just unfortunate that their ambiance isn't hip and their clientele a little past retirement age. Going there makes me feel young again!  

Wally's isn't that type of restaurant. Wally's has hipness and location and showy clientele.  They don't take reservations (unless you know someone, then maybe they do; but when you arrive the front desk will assure you they DON'T take reservations until you drop the right name, suddenly they're friendly and gushing and everything changes).  They have many communal tables and a few small party tables. I didn't notice a line up for tables while we were there, everyone was seated as they walked in either alone or mixed in with other groups at the communal tables (I think there was a bridal shower happening, think loud moments in a restaurant not known for shots). They surround  you with their wines; lining the walls, lining the room dividers, with a cubby hole room cut out for harder liquor. They present food options that are teetering on the sublime (Green Lentils du Puy Raguote, Osso Buco as the casserole of the day, Black truffle pizzas). Wally's is hip and now and classy and refined. 

The wine cellar is magnificent with a plethora of wines offered by the glass, more than your average purveyor. They use an Enomatic (or similar) machine to assure that opening bottles remains profitable and the wine fresh. You won't find happy hour deals here (I think the lowest price I saw for a glass of wine was around $13 and went upwards past $250), but you will find a breadth of availability not found in many places (4 pages of wines by the glass). Have you wanted to know what an Amarone tastes like before you plop down $200 for a bottle? You can find a few options by the glass. Been interested in learning about Italian or French varietals or maybe catching up on wines from Mexico?  This is a GREAT place to work on those wine tasting notes and to enjoy the breadth of the wine cellar's coverage. The sommelier will help you figure out the best wine for your meal and will admit when you've found a great deal in the "wines by the glass" as opposed to buying a full bottle (hello Sauternes by the glass!).    

The food is showy and beautiful. Everything we ordered (or rather, Heather ordered...and she ordered and ordered and ordered) was gorgeously plated, with well balanced colors and shapes and textures. Flowers were added for appeal and color splashes. The serving dishes for the pizzas were organically shaped slabs. They know how to appeal to the visual senses.   

I found the flavors a little less exciting.  It's hard to make a Burrata salad anything but milky, fatty, smooth...but maybe one adjacent flavor would have been helpful; a touch of lemon/acid to help cut through the fat? White asparagus can be tricky, without much flavor and only a touch of texture; and the plate we sampled wasn't inspiring but it was adequate. I found most of the items we ordered well prepared, never under or over cooked. I don't remember being wowed by anything though. Nothing grabbed my attention away from the company I was keeping, nothing made me look at it a second time for a deeper understanding of what I was eating. 

Except the Wild King Salmon, I think I got the corner of our serving where the chef haphazardly dropped all the coarse finishing salt ...I couldn't feel the side of my tongue for a good 10 minutes after eating it!   WAY TOO MUCH SALT.  The first bite, was delicate and flaky.   Perfectly cooked and adding a little of the crisped skin to the vegetables made for another delicious taste. Just that second unfortunate bite with the salt crystals killed this dish for me.  

I've already said that I love truffles. Black, white - any way they are served. And so I did love the Pizzetta Black Truffle which does not skimp on shaved truffles. And after drinking a gallon of water to drown out the salt from the previous course, this little bit of bread and cheese and truffle was a good palate cleanser. Errr...palate re-shaper.  

At some point I'll find myself back at Wally's. I'm sure I will enjoy the wine. I'll find the food tasty enough and will certainly have many menu items to choose from that will fit my liking.   I'll hope I'm there with great companions again, to keep the meal entertaining, where the flavors are adequate but not exciting.  

[jamesfitz789]

So you’ve never been to... Jazz After Dark?

In a nutshell

Gaudy, art-lined bolthole and shrine to Amy Winehouse: one for the Soho bucket list.

Where is it?

On Greek Street, so just round the corner from Ronnie Scott’s jazz club. This place is more low-key, without skimping on the late-night good times.

What’s the vibe?

It’s a tiny place – even the musicians themselves spill off the stage - so prepare to be squashed in like notes in a super-hectic sax solo. Amy Winehouse’s old hangout is a bit like the late star herself: imperfect, but impossible to take your eyes off. The décor is best described as ‘1980s futuristic’.

What makes it a great venue?

It’s like strolling into a jam sesh the whole world’s been invited to. You’ll see funk, R&B, soul, and Latin from across the planet (maybe all at once). And did we mention that in the daytime it’s a gallery? The walls are filled with the owner’s paintings of celebs who’ve come through his door.

Who’s the most famous person spotted there?

Amy, Amy, Amy. She first showed up demanding a job behind the bar – only to be given a gig instead. Show after show followed, and so did noughties A-listers like Pete Doherty and Kate Moss. A VIP ‘room’ (cubby-hole) features a sofa that Winehouse supposedly wrote tunes on.

What’s the booze situation?

Glasses of wine (£5.95) and bottled beers (£4.35) are typical, but at £7.95 for cocktails, you’ve paid much worse in Soho. No prizes for guessing who the Back to Back is named after.

What’s coming up?

Part of the fun is just popping in, but if you’re after something specific, book ahead to bag the best seats. September has shows from two European vocal talents: Cheri Lyn (Sep 14 and 28) and Patricia Elizabeth (with the Rocca Brothers on Sep 8). Trumpeter and singer Karl Charity returns to the venue on Sep 23.