#gold ceramic plates

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Food on White Ceramic Plate

It's okay to eat fish because they don't have any feelings. See more...

[heartnosekid]

nova_home_ranya on ig

[yourcoffeeguru]

Gems of Tasmania Cat Kitten Theme Miniature Dish Decorative Plate Gold Trim || SWtradepost - ebay

[zhongrin]

oh yeah zhongli and my mom would get along so well bc she would just randomly out of nowhere buy things like... uh.... purely decorative, ostrich egg-sized golden eggs........ yes, eggs. plural...................

[its-stimsca]

Leftover stims

🎭 🎭 🎭 🎭 🎭 🎭

[elipotmysterygifts]

EliPOT.com, EliPOT decorative ceramics, Kitchen ceramics, dinning room ceramics, serving ceramics, Ceramic Bowls and Plates, Ceramic Accessories, Vintage and Gold Plated Jewelry, Vintage style bracelets and Brooches, Vintage style Rings and Earrings, Gold Plated Necklace, Turkish Style Jewelry Sets, Unique Gift Idea, Buy the best Gift.

[jimkirkachu]

plates, cups, and bowls for the Starfleet party (including not just captain's green but also short-sleeve-sickbay-scrubs sky blue!)

When you’re at the grocery store and the paper goods aisle is all, “Wanna throw a party with cheap original series Starfleet-colored napkins and utensils? We can make that happen.”

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part Two/Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of relentless mulling over your fractured marriage and place in the world, you make a quick dash out the front door before Tommy learns of your plans for the day. But when your daughter's inquisitive mind reveals your intentions, Tommy's paranoia turns its ugly head.

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 3.5K

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

" Thank you, Frances" you smiled to your housekeeper in the mirror of your vanity, fingers cradling the cold mug of ginger tea cupped within your hands, you hoped would help you sleep the night before as she finished placing the last of the spindly wired pins in your hair.

" Mam" she laid the small leafed dish of jewellery in front of you as you placed each precious gem to your skin, when the faint clanging of the last piece rattled against the ceramic plate with a brush of your fingers.

" Oh..." your eyes drifted down to your wedding ring sitting lonesome along the ridges of the handmade keepsake. The corners of your lips turning down in sadness at the ache the circular band still managed to pull within your chest.

Something so small, so simple, yet it held the weight of a decade's worth of memories. And although your husband's hand was still adorned with the gold band of vows you had made, yours wasn't. Only the lingering indent of where it once sat remained, embedded into your skin as a reminder of who you'd forever be bound to through the years of your youth you had spent together.

" Right" you rose from your seat, brushing the tear that had settled within the curls of your lashes as you made your way over to your wardrobe.

Hands brushing along the dozens of gowns hand-sewn with lace and sequins, your eyes drifted to a lone shirt of Tommy's nestled between the fabric of your clothes that had gone unnoticed when separating your belongings.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself at the constant reminder of his presence, releasing a stifled cry when the lasting notes of his cologne drifted towards you as you pulled it out from within your wardrobe, tightly clutching the cuffs of its arms within the palms of your hands.

You could have moved to one of the many guest rooms. But Tommy had insisted. Was it his way of making you remember, making sure you didn't forget?, your own paranoia began to nag you about the room that suffocated you every night with the reminder of the love that was shared in it, the passionate nights that once filled it.

" This one will do" you abruptly shoved it to the back of the cupboard in favour of a blouse, pulling yourself from recounting the blissful moments you found yourself gazing at through rose-tinted glasses, forgetting the reality of how dire things had become.

Happy times had been replaced with a darkened mood, an unpredictable temper that would sway back and forth to the sound of the pendulum in your foyer to whatever had displeased its owner. For when Tommy's mood was good, it was good. And when it was bad, it was very, fucking, bad.

Deciding to no longer be the kept woman, the woman that had barely a thought to herself her husband hadn't invaded, you had come to the realisation that it would be your responsibility to pull yourself out of the limbo Tommy was intent on keeping you in.

"It's quite chilly outside, Mam. Perhaps something a little warmer?" Frances voiced as her hurried steps raced towards you in a panic after noting the sheerness of the top you had chosen, sheer enough to see a peak of thrills from your brassiere.

" They say it will be mild later today" you shrugged off your gown into a bundle of fabric on the floor as you caught the worrying concern in her eyes.

" Perhaps, perhaps a cardigan then, if it gets too...cold" you relented, watching the relief wash over her as she eagerly searched behind you for a wooly garment that would cover you enough to get you through the front door without your husbands raging jealously making itself known to all those unfortunate enough to be within close vicinity.

" That's better" Frances adjusted the back of your fleecy shawl as you looked at the reflection of yourself in the weathered glass of your bedroom window, pulling the buttoned clothing around the curves of your chest.

Still, a kept woman.

" Elsie, come on! We're going to be late!" you called up the stairs, furiously tugging at the prickling fabric of your cardigan, itching the back of your neck as you paced the foyer. Eager to get going before the sound of your husband's phone call ended, and he learnt of your day's plans.

" Where's my pony? I can't find it!" You heard an avalanche of toys being tossed onto the wooden floors of her bedroom as she searched for her most cherished of toys.

Come on, come on, your body began to panic as you rolled forward from your heel to your toes to see the back of your husband drifting left and right between the crack in the door, receiver still in hand as he gave his orders to the poor soul on the opposite end of the line.

" Elsie!" You called after your six-year-old for a second time, perching on the bottom step of Arrow Houses's grand staircase as your head craned up to see what was taking her so long, when her bouncing curls and plump cheeks suddenly appeared, hopping down each wooden slab with her treasured horse in hand.

" Go, go, go" you ushered her along, simultaneously attempting to tie her hair into a plated braid with each skipping step of her booted feet along the marble floor as your eyes nervously darted to Tommy's office that had now, suddenly gone quiet.

" Ow Mummy, you're hurting me!" Her hand flew to her head in protest as you tried to twist the band around to keep her hair in place.

" I'm sorry darling, but we'll be late for the bus and Mummy's interview if we don't get moving" you winced as the skin of your fingers dragged along the tight elastic, finally pulling the last of her locks through.

" Daddy!" She screeched, turning her head and feet to the sight of Tommy appearing from behind his office door.

Shit.

" Morning princess" a smile grew on his face as she bounded into him, squeezing her little arms around his waist as he shuffled forward from foot to foot until he reached you, inches from making it out the door before the interrogations began.

" Sweetheart" he pressed a longing kiss to the side of your head, hand threading into the locks of your hair as you shrugged away from the charade of a happily married couple he was adamant on maintaining in front of your daughter.

" Car's waiting outside" he said as his fingers settled on Elsie's shoulders stood behind her, her petite hands clutching onto his as his eyes roamed over your choice of outfit.

"But mummy said we're taking the bus" your daughter pouted up to the frown of confusion creasing on Tommy's forehead.

" The bus?" Your husband's eyes darted up to you as you adjusted the bag in your hand, feeling the familiar heat of his piercing stare begin to burn your face.

" I thought you were meeting Linda and Ada to go over her wedding plans?" Tommy's frown stayed firmly knitted between his brows as he watched your fumbling fingers pull out your small silver pocket mirror, wiping the corners of your ruby-stained lips.

"Well, won't you need the car for that?" You heard a heavy sigh of irritation follow his questions at your silence. The small brown haired barrier between you both, stopping him from letting his annoyance slip and forcefully demanding it from you instead. " Y/N?"

" I have somewhere to be first" you snapped the mirror shut as you cleared your throat, when the innocence of your daughter's curious mind revealed your true plans for the day.

" What's an interview?"

Double shit.

"You have a job interview?" Tommy scoffed a stifled laugh of disbelief, shaking his head as his veiny hands straining with annoyance came up to brush down his mouth.

" Something Mummy has no business in doing, Elsie" the tone of his voice deepened, scolding you through his reply to your daughter's inquisitive mind.

You were slipping further away from him with each passing day. Why wasn't he told about this? He was slacking, his men slacking, Tommy thought to himself as his breath became heavy, his shoulders tensing with anger as you continued to ignore his questions to pat the creases that had already begun to appear in your daughter's school dress when Tommy's eyes suddenly darted to the blouse you had chosen, peaking through the open button of your cardigan that had slipped through its hole.

" An interview" he quietly mumbled with a breathy exhale of suspicion as you quickly pulled the front of your top around your chest.

Rising to your feet, your eyes caught sight of his glaring anger in the silence that weighed heavy between you. A stare intent enough to have you believe that it was you, who had done something so atrocious, that it deserved his sour reaction.

" Elsie, what do you think of Mummy's new...clothes?" Tommy broke the tension as his eyes stayed firmly fixed on you, using your daughter to have his displeasure with your outfit made known.

" Pretty" she grinned a toothy smile as her hands reached out to feel the soft fabric. " Like the feather dancers at Uncle Arthur's work" she blushed shyly at the beauty her mother radiated and the many sparkling jewels that adorned your skin she dreamed you'd one day let her wear.

" Thank you, my sweet girl" you stepped forward, brushing your fingers through the locks of her hair when your eyes cast up to the protruding bone of your husband's jaw inches from your face, his heavy breath fanning across your lips.

" Go get your school bag, love" Tommy let go of your daughter's shoulders as she merrily skipped away from the gap he was closing between you.

" Feather dancers. So a whore, then?" He mumbled through gritted teeth as he pulled the front of your cardigan to the side, fingers sweeping under the top of your exposed lingerie. " You gonna whore yourself out for this job too, eh?" He cocked a brow as you pushed past him.

" It's just fabric, Tommy" you straightened your clothes as you waited on your daughter.

" Elsie, come on, let's go" you urgently reached your hand out for her to take as she fumbled with her coat when Tommy abruptly pulled you back into his body.

" What happened to you, hm? I don't even fucking recognise you anymore" you felt his grip tighten around your arm as he quietly voiced his opinion on what he believed was a change in your personality.

"What I wear is no longer your concern, now is it Tommy?" You responded in a hushed voice as you pulled away to your daughter patiently waiting by the door.

"I'll race you there" you smiled down at your dimpled cheeked child as she eagerly nodded her head.

" We have a whole fleet of cars, Y/N. Y/N!" He called after you, hands on hips as he stood at the bottom of the winding stairs. Watching you jog off with your giggling six- year-old before his eyes flew up to the second floor and the paranoia he needed to settle.

" You're late" Linda clicked her tongue, patting the seat beside her as you arrived in a tangled mess of hair, slipping garments and rolling eyes at the soon-to-be Shelby members' orderly manner.

" First, let's go over the itinerary" she pulled out a floral notebook, her fingers scrolling down the many pages or arrangements she had already made for her big day.

" Goodness Linda, can we not have some tea, or perhaps something a little stronger to get us through this joyous occasion" Ada sent you a playful wink as you shrugged off your bag, settling into the chair between them.

" How are you?" Your sister-in-law probed, quickly noting the deep bags of exhaustion under your eyes and the heavy sigh accompanying them. " Let me guess, my dear brother?"

" He went and pulled a Tommy special again, Ada" your hand trembled up to your brow, pinching the six months worth of stress you couldn't seem to rid yourself of.

Shakey hands, sleepless nights, you thought to yourself, burying your fingers under your legs to hide your rattling nerves. Was it all worth it?

" Yes, I did hear about that" she sent you a sympathetic smile of understanding. Knowing the lengths her brother would go to make his point, as he continued to stubbornly dig his heels in.

" I think the whole of Birmingham did" a sudden wave of shame reddened your cheeks with the learnt knowledge that every living soul in the fogged city was now aware of your and Tommy's strained relationship.

"It's been postponed, the...divorce that is" you mumbled, barely able to mutter the catalyst that caused said blaring row. The word alone, causing your stomach to twist into an unbearable ache for the love that was still there for him.

"And your interview, this morning?" Ada's attempt to change the heavy topic of conversation was gratefully welcomed when a smile began to dimple into your cheeks. For your trusted sister-in-law had seen the stress the separation had put on you, been at the brunt end of her brother's phone calls as he accused her of spurring on your decision to end the marriage.

"I got the job" you scooted your hands from their numbing position, fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as she matched the excited grin on your lips.

" I'm meeting him, my boss, for drinks later. To go over the finer details, and in celebration for his newly hired typist...me" you giggled as a surge of confidence bubbled in your stomach at your first step into becoming an independent woman when Ada's smile suddenly dropped.

" Him...drinks?" her eyes began to widen, darting to the side of your cheery smile at the young peaked cap man sat a couple of tables behind, tipping his hat before slipping away.

"Y/N perhaps drinks are not..."

" Ephesians chapter five, verse two..." Linda interjected into the conversation her rosey notebook had taken all her attention with.

" Ada, what is it?" your brow creased, ignoring the beginnings of Linda's religious lecture, her eyes snapping back to you as she swiftly clutched her fingers around your hand.

"Ada?" You quietly mouthed when your gaze drifted over the concern filling her sapphire eyes, the same concern you saw in France's that very morning, the realisation your giddy stupidity had clouded, suddenly hitting you.

It was just a drink to celebrate, he didn't have to know? And if he found out, surely he'd understand? It was a new job, you couldn't turn the offer down, it would be impolite. You were separated...you and Tommy separated.

" Wives, submit to your own husband. As to the lord..." Linda's ill-timed words of advice drifted to you as you released your hand from Ada's clutches.

As the continued martial counsel buzzed relentlessly in your ear, you let your body slump into the cushioned fabric of your chair until the drowning religious verses muffled with the sounds of twirling spoons tapping against their porcelain tea cups, scrapping knives cutting freshly baked cakes until nothingness, complete silence.

How could you have been so stupid? So naive to have thought you could support your daughter on a mere typist's wage? That Tommy wouldn't move heaven and earth before he'd see the likes of you working so closely with another man? That word wouldn't get back to him about your planned drinks?, you thought to yourself as the distant sound of Ada calling your name echoed through each delayed blink of your welling eyes.

Divorce, another one of your stupid ideas, from your stupid list of stupid things you thought you could achieve, you continued your onslaught of self-inflicted insults as a tear rolled down the slope of your cheek.

And the worst thing about it all, about the whole fucking ordeal...you still loved him. Still, hopelessly in love with him. Pathetic, a hand shook your arm as your head cast down, remembering the cascade of decisions that had everything fall apart.

For when you no longer needed the guiding hand of your husband, his opinions nor protection as you began to blossom into a woman and spread your wings, came Tommy's paranoia. Fear of losing you to life's wonders, to another man, your husband's clutches began to tighten to the unbearable point where every waking breath wasn't without him looming behind you.

And yet you soldiered through, the thought of separation too torturous to contemplate as he continued to tighten his chains around you until he pushed you to the point where a tearful outburst had you asking for the dreaded seven letter word, an outburst that finally had you seeing the man your husband had kept in the shadows. The real, Thomas Shelby.

" Flowers. A dozen red roses on each side of the altar. Like the ones my Artie picks for me" Linda's voice suddenly snapped you from your thoughts, her insufferable happiness searing through the stained memories you shared with Tommy.

Maybe she was right after all. Submit to your husband. The only sensible, optional choice. Right?

Bolting two steps at a time to your once shared bedroom, Tommy threw open the door, eyes wide as he scanned the room.

You were seeing someone, fucking someone, he told his raging paranoia as he began to wade through your belongings, pulling your cupboard draws out one by one in search of something, anything that would confirm his suspicions.

" Fuck!" His hand slammed the last drawer shut, finding nothing that would give him the justification to interrupt your days plans and confront you about your lies.

What the fuck was he doing?, he perched himself on the edge of your vanity, fingers threading through his hair as a heavy sigh of exhaustion left his lips. He was losing you, he told himself, burying his head in his hands as he swallowed down the nagging guilt of his own making creeping up his throat.

You loved him, needed him. You were just...Tommy refused to believe otherwise, refused to accept your separation as he pulled a cigarette from within his suit jacket when a smack of reality hit him with the winking shine of your gold wedding ring catching the corner of his eye.

Puffing a cloud of smoke from his lips, Tommy rubbed the small band between his fingers, lifting it to his face to see his engraved initials entwined with yours inside of its metal frame.

Was that when you began to distance yourself from him? After your wedding? When you no longer sought out his advice, cared to sit and watch him work, choosing rather to meet new people, go new places without him? To... modernise? he cleared the bitter taste of resentment from his throat, clutching the lone piece of jewellery within his hand, clutching onto the remnants of your marriage for dear life before tossing it onto the table for all to see like you had your marriage.

" Just what are you up to, hm?" Tommy's distrust quickly returned, feeling hurt by the sight of your wedding ring laid cold on its ornate tray as he picked up the small photo frame of you and Elsie he had taken on a trip to Brighton many moons ago.

" You better not be lying to me darling. You know what happens when..." Tommy's eyes drifted from your portrait to the mug of cold tea sat on your vanity. It's distinct smell, awakening his senses and anger in one quick, sweeping moment.

Ginger.

Commonly used for insomnia. But also consumed in regular doses as a form of contraception. A tea Tommy would tease you about in your early years of dating with it's uselessness as you refused to rely on his preferred, and most notoriously unreliable method of, pulling out.

It had been many months since you and Tommy had shared your martial bed, many months since you basked in the warmth of each other's bodies.

You weren't fucking him. So who were you sleeping with?, Tommy seethed at the idea of another man touching you that wasn't him, all logical thinking swiftly taken over by a blazing fury behind the viscous storm brewing behind his eyes at the lies he was convinced you had told him. Lies he'd get to the bottom of before the day was over.

" My car, now!"

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow

[claypigeonpottery]

Ceramics for Sale

All prices are in CAD, not including shipping. Send me a DM if you're interested.

I will delete pieces from this post as they're sold, so if you're interested in a piece, please click through to the original post to be sure it's still available. Thanks so much!

Some of these pieces are from my wheel-throwing days, so they're a bit heavy.

Magnets:

Pigeon magnets $20

Delft-patterned pigeon magnets $25

cat and fox magnets $15

jar and animals magnets $20

Plates:

Pigeon Spikes - $80 - price reduced. this piece has not been glazed, it is bisqueware. it was glued back together and the glue line was painted gold to mimic kintsugi. there are two small rough patches where I couldn't scrape back the glue (visible in the pictures). it is not food or dishwasher safe.

Bowls:

Tiny black bowl - $20

Spoon rests and ring dishes:

Avocado spoon rest - $35

Flowery spoon rest - $50

3 ring dishes - $20 each

Mugs and such:

Raven and nest mug - $40 - this piece is heavy

Matte green glaze mug - $30 - this piece is heavy, and the rim is a little wide

Leafy mug - $40 - this piece is heavy

Grassy mug - $40 - this piece is heavy

Small black cup - $20

Vases:

Angular Stone Vase $20 - price reduced, the inside isn't glazed, this is best used for fake flowers

Round Stone Vase $20 - price reduced, the inside isn't glazed, this is best used for fake flowers

Pottery made by my Studio Partners:

Marbled Clay Bowl - $75 - made by a studio friend, Danielle. (unfortunately she doesn't have an insta or anything for her pottery)

Marbled Clay Bowl with iridescent glaze on outside - $70 - also made by Danielle.

Brown Clay, White Glaze bowl - $70 - made by my mom studio partner. not food safe

Shino Cup - $40 - made by my mom studio partner

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Anywhere That You Are

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: Inspired by that picture (as seen below), my new favorite song (That You Are) and an idea sent in via asks.

Summary: A scene of Y/n and Andrew enjoying their vacation in a secluded spot in the mountains of Italy.

Warnings: NSFW/SMUT, semi-public sex (sort of?), so much fluff.

They’d bickered for a while over where to go. She wanted somewhere quiet and secluded – because after two entire years of sharing her man with the world, Y/n wants him to herself. Andrew, on the other hand, had simply requested somewhere near water – the beach, a lake, a pool, anything he could swim in. So they met in the middle; two weeks in a rustic, little one bedroom cottage tucked away in the mountains of Italy, within walking distance of a vast, jewel toned lake. The house is perched on a jagged hill, overlooking the serene landscape, and sunsets wash the area in a gentle, golden glow. They’ve witnessed three so far, and each one has been nothing short of magnificent – though Andrew has argued that there’s at least one view that he appreciates much more.

Her, standing on the open porch, wearing nothing but his shirt as that warm light hits her face, making it seem like she’s glowing. Like something ethereal; an angel on earth sent just for him. Or even better, his own, personal heaven.

He’s thinking about that as he sits there, in one of the two wicker chairs with an acoustic guitar propped in his lap, fingers absently grazing the delicate strings. At first, he isn’t playing anything in particular. Andrew’s eyes are trained forward, taking in the view of rolling hills and aged trees while his mind strays to the thought of his love, just past the window behind him, moving around in their rental’s charmingly quaint kitchen. Humming softly as she fills the kettle, moving around fluidly as she takes it to the stove before prepping a pair of matching mugs out of the small cupboard over the wooden counter as it boils. She’ll fill up the mugs at the end of the process, and bring them out, all without spilling even a drop – because she’s more graceful that Andrew could ever dream to be.

Because if he is a perilously tall stack of china plates, just waiting for a breeze in the right – or wrong – direction to end in a clumsy disaster, then she is silk, moving freely through calm water.

As thoughts of Y/n take shape, Andrew finds himself playing the notes of a familiar tune, humming along to it as he does. A wedding present, written with a new friend for someone he loves so dearly, and so deeply, that even the most beautiful words, tied together with threads of gold, could only express a fraction of what he feels. But she’d loved it, and that was what had mattered most to him. Because if she loves it, then chances are, she knows.

She knows that if he had his way, they would be together – always. No oceans would separate them for months on end. There wouldn’t be months between kisses and neither of them would endure the heartache of seeing that other on screens without being able to touch even the barest tips of their fingers. No bed would stay half cold, and no terrible joke will be told through text. They’d go on walks every evening with fingers laced and her head leaned on his arm.

He would be anywhere – and everywhere – that she is. Because he always finds that he makes a bit more sense when Y/n is around.

So lost in the inner workings of his mind, Andrew completely misses the whistle of the kettle, the subsequent clinking of a metal spoon against the ceramic and finally, the tell-tale creak of the front door. He’s only pulled out of his thoughts when Y/n sets the pair of mugs down on the small, round table between the two chairs and comes to stand behind him. Her hands begin at his shoulders, spending a brief moment messaging them before sliding forward, fingers sprawled on his chest.

“What’s on your mind, huh?” Y/n probs, bring her lips to his cheek in a much-too-short peck.

Freeing one of his hands, Andrew places it over hers. “You,” he offers softly, shifting his head to meet her lips.

“Mm, yeah?” She smiles, “now, why would you think about me when I’m right here.”

“Because,” he tips his head so their noses are touching, “you’re my favorite thing to think about.”

Y/n giggles again, walking around until she’s in front of him. Andrew allows her relieve him of the guitar, watching as she carefully lays in in the vacant chair before climbing into his lap, her legs astride his thighs. “That’s all?” She pouts dramatically, “just think about.”

Chuckling, his hands find her hips, clothed in a gray t-shirt stolen from his suitcase – not that he’s complaining, his clothes look much better on her anyway. “Not just think,” he promises, catching her mouth.

“Yeah?” Her arms go around his neck as she melts into his chest, words escaping through their tangled lips, “what else?”

“Favorite person to kiss,” his lips travel along her jaw, and then down her neck, where he presses his nose to the warm skin near her pulse, “favorite smell,” he nips at her throat, leaving little, telling bruises, “favorite person to do this with,” and then, as of to examine his work, or just freshen the image of her in his mind, Andrew pulls away, broad grin splitting his cheeks. “Favorite person to see wearing my clothes.”

She is really just his favorite everything.

“Our clothes,” Y/n corrects pointedly.

“Oh, of course darlin’,” he plays along with a chuckle.

“I’m glad we’re here,” she says suddenly and the mood sobers a bit. A soft smile still plays at her lips, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that are indicative of those private moments where one of them says something that is only meant for the other. A surge of emotion pools in her chest, and there’s a lump in her throat. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together – five minutes or ten years – it isn’t the distance that makes her heart grow fonder, its the moments spent in their own little bubble. When he’s close enough for her to throw her arms around his neck or lay her head in his lap. When the sound of his voice isn’t skewed by the speaker of her phone.

When she can open a door and find him on the other side of it.

Those are the moments that make her heart swell so much that Y/n thinks it may burst out of her chest. They are the ones that remind Y/n of how much she loves him, only because he’s him. There isn’t another person in the world that could rouse such an intense feeling within her, or even a fraction of the certainty she feels it with.

Lifting his hand to the side of her face, Andrew mirrors her expression. “So am I,” he returns with the same ease, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed it just being the two of us.”

Y/n huffs a chuckle and leans in conspiringly, her forehead pressed to his while his thumb caresses the apple of her cheek, “I’m willing to bet I do.”

Still cupping her cheek, Andrew tilts his head and closes his mouth in over hers again. His other hand, the one on her hip, searches blindly for the hem of the t-shirt. “We’re outside,” Y/n’s mumbled admonishment melts against his lips when he flattens his palm on her upper thigh, gradually inching it upwards.

“Just us up here,” Andrew returns, then adds, “do you wanna go inside?”

Clumsily, she undoes the plastic buttons at the top of his shirt, “not really,” Y/n’s hands slip into the top of his flannel shirt, fingers dancing along his skin, leaving sparks in their wake. “God, I love this shirt on you.”

“I’d like this off you,” he starts lifting the oversized t-shirt over her head, not caring where it falls when he tosses it off to the side. She isn’t wearing much under it, just her underwear, and Andrew’s eyes fall to her unrestrained breasts after discarding the t-shirt. His gaze is steady as he trails the tips of his fingers up her spine, and its more his feather-light touch than the temperate evening air that causes the dusting of goosebumps along her exposed skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, and Y/n feels her cheeks warm under his stare; a heady combination of tenderness and longing darkening his eyes.

There’s something about the way Andrew looks at her – and just looks – that never fails to rouse a sensation in the pit of her stomach. A warmth that she’s never really associated with sex; its more like the warmth of a hearth, reaching upwards. Embers spreading to the most hidden parts of her body. It's gentle, and comforting. It's not the rush of being desired, but the peace that comes with being wanted.

Its not fast and explosive. It doesn’t fizzle out when they’re spent.

It stands up against time, steadfast and true.

Andrew looks at her, and Y/n doesn't feel as if he's forgotten that there are other women in the world. Instead, she knows that of all of them, he will only ever choose her – want her.

“I love the way you look at me,” she whispers, still loosely clutching his shoulders as she leans forward.

Andrew’s grin broadens and he flattens his hand on the center of her back, “well, I love looking at you,” he returns in the same, hushed tone. A sound between a delighted chuckle and a hum of contentment falls onto his lips from hers. He tastes of the beer he’d taken out with him earlier, and something subtly sweet that makes her toes curl.

In a sequence of clumsy, fumbled movements, Y/n lifts herself off Andrew’s lap for long enough for him to tug her underwear down, and get it of one leg before they hastily undo the button and zipper of his jeans so they can shove them down to the middle of his thighs. A fit of laughter erupts from her throat, at some point during the jumbled mess of movements, and as she throws her head back, he laughs too, rendering their attempts efforts even more maladroit

It probably doesn't look like they’re in a movie, or even particularly sensual. But its the one of the things he misses the most when they’re apart. Not the act itself but the being with her like that; when they’re so caught up in how it feels that nothing else matters. Bodies in awkward positions or a stray comment that has nothing to do with anything at all, none of it matters because he's with the one person that it all makes sense with.

When Y/n sinks down onto him, her lewd moan is cast into the crook of his neck, and Andrew lolls his head to the side, pressing his cheek to her hair, the fruity fragrance of her shampoo flooding his senses. “God,” he rasps, reveling in the way she feels wrapped so tightly around him.

“Just like that,” he encourages, gentle grip on her hips guiding Y/n into steady pace. Rocking her hips against his in pronounced, languid motions, her back arches slightly, creating in a balletic curve. She looks much like art, Andrew thinks.

Just like that, so simple and unhampered. With a couple stray strands falling over her face and her head thrown back. Practically melting in his hands. Through his hazy, lust-blurred vision, he sees the most beautiful person he’s ever known transform into something that can only be other-worldly. Every bit of her has been carved by the gods with the purpose of being the truest personification of beauty.

What must he have done in some other life to be afforded the privilege of her company?

It's really the tangible that’s keeping him grounded; reminding him that he’s real enough to share that moment with her. The warmth of her silken skin under his rough fingers, the clench of her core around him, the tips of her fingers sunken into his shoulders.

The pressure of Y/n’s forehead against his, the heat of her breath when she ellicts his name in a husky moan. “God, Andrew,” there’s a waning smile tugging at her lips as she quickens ever so slightly. His hips buck to meet hers, and every time they connect in a heady, jerked movement, her breath hitches audibly.

God, he loves that sound. That little, whined, “uh.”

Y/n’s fingers curl into his shoulders as her thighs start burning, a direct result of Andrew’s light wash jeans rhythmically rubbing against her skin. That fiery friction coupled with the usual tingle that accompanies being stretched around him is enough to run her breaths shallow and ragged. There’s a light sheen gathered on his forehead when she presses hers to it, and from that angle, Y/n swears she can feel him in her stomach.

Vaguely, she registers when Andrew moves one hand from her waist, bringing his thumb to her sensitive bundle of nerves, while he lowers his head to press his mouth to the swell of her breath. Curling her toes at the new sensations, one of Y/n’s hands slide out from under his shirt and reaches for the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, disturbing his haphazard bun. Andrew's tongue flicking at the top of her breast, incits the most thrilling sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the way he's working her nub is dizzying; the combination quickly guiding Y/n to the cusp of release.

“I need to feel you,” Andrew grits, edges of his teeth dragging along the ample flesh. “Let me feel you,” he pleads urgently, the upward motions of his pelvis growing erratic as he tries to prompt Y/n to quicken her pace. “Come’on sweetheart,” he encourages, tone low and dry.

"Andy….Andy….” Y/n yelps, crescent-shaped nails grazing his scalp as her legs start stiffening.

“That’s it, darling” he entices, thumb working on her numb more vigorously now. Andrew needs to feel her squeeze him; like she’s putting every stray part back into its place. He’s aching for the kind of release that only Y/n can bring, the kind that empties his mind completely and leaves him seeing stars for the next few minutes.

Twin kaleidoscopes are painted onto her shut lids as it happens, and Y/n can’t help but blurt out a string of cried praises muddled in with the obscene repetition of his name. A sinful prayer shared between lovers. Her legs, no longer able to support her own weight, become jello and Y/n struggles to keep moving through the cloud of her release.

“Fuck,” Andrew heaves, lifting his head as Y/n quakes around him. His breathing is heavy as he follows along, mind now far too tattered to properly enjoy the way she looks when she’s completely in ruins. So instead, Andrew hastily pulls his hand from her center and cradles the back of Y/n’s head, pulling her towards him so he can crush his lips to hers, the fervor of their kiss matching the thick warmth swirling around them.

That gorgeous scenery that they’ve been enjoying over the past few days – trees that soar towards the dimming sky, the bellies of green hills and the occasional burst of colour owed to wildflowers, all dusted by that golden evening hue – blurs around them, completely forgotten.

Even as they come down from the very top of it, Andrew’s breathing remains heavy, and he can feel Y/n’s heart pounding against her ribs.

“Jesus,” Y/n suspires when they break, shoulders slumping. Andrew chuckles briefly at her exclamation before sagging against the back of the chair, throwing his head back so he can stare up – but not really – at the ceiling. Looking down at herself, Y/n can’t help but feel the heat return to her cheeks upon noticing that she’s completely unclad. He’s seen her like that maybe a hundred times by now, if not more, but there’s always the tiniest bit of self-consciousness that sneaks up on her when he’s completely dressed and she’s….well, not

Abashed, Y/n throws herself against his chest and buries her face in the side of his neck. Andrew can feel her smile on his skin, and the way her fame shakes slightly with bashful giggles. “What?” He smiles, one hand settled on the small of her back while the other reaches for the side of her face, urging Y/n to look at him.

“You're still wearing all your clothes,” she giggles, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she meets his gaze.

Briefly, Andrew glances down at himself; the first four buttons of his shirt are open, and his pants have made it to the middle of his thighs, but otherwise he’s still entirely clothed. “Shit, yeah,” he laughs softly. “Tell you what,” he meets her lips in a punctuating kiss, “gimme ten minutes, and then we’ll fix that.”

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate it || Young!Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"I sit and watch you reading with your... head low"

Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with. Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), social isolation, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I was listening to Evermore after watching tbosas and Tolerate It was just SCREAMING Snow vibes. I was fidgeting with the gold charm of my pearl necklace while anxiously looking over at my husband whose nose was too deep into a book to seem to care about me. I dropped my gaze from him to scan across the table and room. Our large dining room was red with gold accent pieces I had spent the morning dusting decorating the walls. We both sat at opposite ends of the long table, ever too long to just seat two people but it seemed the man couldn't do anything at home if he was within five feet of me. A bouquet of roses I placed in a ceramic vase sat between us on the table. He loved roses, he always did, so I placed them there to brighten his day and maybe even spark up conversation between us. I polished the plates we ate on delicately and even spent the afternoon painting designs onto the back of them. I had done all this in hopes I'd receive some sort of compliment from him but alas, there was none. I sat back and reminisced on the days of our love before it was like this. Truly, when I had first married Coriolanus I had felt like my life had started a new chapter. We dated in the spring and summer time of the year after we graduated from the academy. He was top of the class and while I never matched him in intelligence he had seemingly randomly taken a liking to me. We were acquaintances at most before that and then he started talking to me any chance he could get. I would gush to my friends about his charming smile and posture and they would warn me of the rumors that went around about him. They would tell me to never get to close to him as all those who got did would end up disgraced, missing, or dead. In some masochistic way, I truly felt enthralled by his magnetic aura, danger, and the mystery that surrounded him. His bright red coat was as red as the flags that man was but the danger of it all excited me. He wasn't the nicest man out there but when he was nice to me, I felt unique. I was the exception to his coldness.

We'd go out on dates and he would shower me with sweet nothings. He would tell me how I was the light that lit up the darkness of his life. He said my beauty could turn a man to stone. I will never forget the way he kissed me on the busiest street in the capital under the dancing streetlights and how I felt like time had stopped in that moment. The way he stroked the side of my face so delicately and told me I was the only one who had ever made him feel so alive. I was holding onto every breath that man had exhaled hoping he'd inhale me further into his life. We'd spend days together and call at night. I didn't notice it at the time but in retrospect it was tactical. I spent every moment of my waking days with him and soon my life started to be built around him. Every phone call from a friend I received that spoke about him in any negative way made me push them away and out of my life even further. He was the only one I talked to. He is my world. We were two seeds that had gotten dropped into the same pot and were growing into each other.

In the fall, I fell for him harder than I ever had before. It came to a height when we were walking through a park and watched as the changing leaves fell from the trees. He held my hand in his and he held me so tight as if he was afraid I'd float away and leave him. I would never of course, my life would bend to his will. My head rested against his arm like the red coat he always wore. He'd recount to me stories of his life that would make me laugh and smile. His strikingly blonde hair blew in the wind softly and I noticed every detail of how his icy blue eyes would crinkle when he'd smile at me. He was like a beautiful painting whose artist was unknown. I remember thinking that all I would ever want to be in this life is as significant to him as he is to me. I remember the earth shattering halt my heart felt when he turned to me and dropped down to one knee and proposed. A smirk plastered his face when I said yes. He stood back up and pulled me in by the waist. One hand on my chin and the other on my lower back. The feeling of his warm, soft lips on mine and the feeling of his hair tangled between my fingers. I remember the ecstasy of the moment and the feeling that my friends were wrong, the world was wrong, no one knew Coriolanus like I knew him. He wasn't a cold, calculated, and constantly plotting man, he was just misunderstood. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered in my ear that he would live a thousand life times if it meant he got to love me in the next. I remembered everything.

That was the first night we spent together. He snuck me into his house and we giggled in his bedroom when he shut the door. We told each other secrets and moved the furniture so we could dance. My head was placed onto his chest and we swayed to the sound of the music playing from his grandmothers record player. We shared moments of passion in his bed, fell asleep in each others arms, and woke up tangled in bed sheets. I remember thinking he was truly mine.

We married shortly after in the beginning of December. The ceremony was lavish and beautiful. I remember the way his fingers tucked my hair behind my ear. A single tear fell from his eyes and he leaned in and kissed me. He must've been so taken aback from my beauty as I was with his. Only one of my friends attended the wedding but I was too happy that I was marrying the man of my dreams to care. The first weeks of our married life were wondrous. He had risen to power and we had moved into the absolute gargantuan mansion we live in today. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off me and I was the diamond of his eyes. He loved to show me off for the cameras and crowds. Then one day, winter came and roses don't survive.

It started off small. He didn't want to talk or cuddle in bed at night anymore. I assumed he was just tired from working so hard. Then he stopped complimenting my outfits or hair, trading them with passive aggressive comments and ways I could improve myself for him. He no longer wanted to talk at dinner. We stopped speaking at some point. He wouldn't want to hear my voice unless it was to service him. In public, he still was my adoring husband but in private, I felt like I was living with a stranger. At night, I can hear him whispering sweet nothings to the air and humming melodies and I can only hope he's dreaming about me.

These days, I haven't been sleeping, I've been trying to listen in and see if I can make out the words he is saying in his sleep but I haven't been able to make out any other words than lines about trees. While he is having his meetings all day, I am constantly doing new diets, trying new makeup, new hair, decorating the house differently, leaving loving notes on his desk, anything to try and earn a compliment from him. Even if a compliment is too much, I am begging for a word from that man. I love him. I still love him. I don't believe it is possible for me to stop loving him. I can't dare to think of loving any one else. He is so much wiser, and smarter, and more beautiful than I am and I find myself becoming the moon to his earth. I spin around him, pulled in by his orbit except, I'm not his moon. I'm just a star in his sky that is begging to be his sun. I just want a footnote in the story of his life. Even an annotation on a page of his story will be enough for me.

The sound of him placing his heavy book onto the table pulled me out of my trance and my eyes met his blue ones once more. Instantly, I am struck frozen. His eyes had such a way of pulling you in. I looked down at his lips as they pressed a small smirk and his eyes squinted a little while he picked up his fork from the table and looked at me. He examined my appearance and I sat up straighter. The thick tension in the air put me on edge. Finally, his lips parted and he spoke.

"Is that a new hair color?" he asked, keeping his eyes laser focused on me.

"It is... d- do you like it?" He looked me over again and leaned back in his chair contemplating what to say next. Then, shortly, sweetly, and sharply, he muttered the word,

"Tolerable"

~

PART TWO PART THREE

[wreckedandpolemic]

baby i'm yours - matty healy

(mdni) in which you’ve missed your husband during his long day at work. a white and gold future fic. 1885 words.

warnings: spanking, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight dumbification, breeding kink, overstimulation

It’s been a year since you and Matty got married, and six months since you quit your job. It’s been fucking amazing, knowing you don’t have to take care of anyone’s responsibilities or manage anyone’s life but your own. Your family and friends met your decision with raised eyebrows, gentle concern, but you really, truly couldn’t be happier. You practically live for the smile on your husband’s face when you greet him at the door, sometimes with a plate and others wearing nothing but a smile.

For a minute, you lose yourself in a daydream about last night, your legs over Matty’s shoulders, his fingers buried in your cunt and his tongue insistent and sure over your clit. Heat spirals between your legs, the memory of your body’s collapse washing over you in exquisite detail. A harsh clatter of ceramic against metal startles you out of your thoughts, the plate you’d been holding having slipped from your grip in your distraction.

A dark chuckle rings low around you, and, startled, you whip around to find its source. Matty watches you with a smirk, leaning carelessly against the counter. “Hi, baby,” he grins, eyes wide as he drinks in the sight of you dressed only in an apron and white lingerie. “What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Just dropped a plate. Soapy hands, s’all. It happens,” you say, cracks webbing through your thin veil of nonchalance the longer he observes you.

Matty tilts his head a fraction. “How come you didn’t hear me come in?” You bite your lip, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe I wanted to make you wait for it,” you tease, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

He steps closer, chest rising and falling as his eyes darken. “That’s not very nice, is it, angel?”

The look in his eyes means he’s expecting an answer, the cool, impassive mask of dominance slipping over his face. “No, Daddy,” you say, avoiding his searching gaze.

Another step closer. “That’s right. But I think you’re lying to me, baby. Good girls tell the truth, yeah?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” you say, not looking up as he crowds you, close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke on his breath. “Was thinking about you.” Matty crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “About how you made me feel so good.” You press your body against his, the heat of him soaking against your skin through the thin fabric of your clothes.

“‘S that why you dressed up all pretty, baby? So desperate for me you wanna have my cock as soon as I get home?” He speaks the words against your lips, teasingly close to a kiss. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy, princess. Coming home, seeing my pretty housewife all ready for me. Bet you’re so wet I could just bend you over right now, huh?”

You moan, stretching up towards him and catching him in a kiss, pouring your desire against his mouth as his hands come up to untie the string of your apron. The warmth of his touch races up your spine, anticipation thrumming under your skin. A whine escapes you as he pulls away to lift the apron over your head, letting it crumple on the floor as his head falls to your neck.

Matty kisses over last night’s bruises, smirking against your skin as you whimper softly at the pressure on your sore skin. “You want that, princess? Yeah? C’mon, be a good girl, turn around for me,” he instructs, and you obey unthinkingly, bracing yourself against the counter. “There’s my sweet girl,” he says, fingers brushing over your wetness, understimulating as you try to grind down against him. “Not so fast,” he chides. “You still lied to me tonight, angel. Need to punish you before I give you what you want, okay?” He slides your panties down your legs, letting you step out of them as they fall to the floor and sliding the lace of your dress over your hips.

“Okay, Daddy. You know best.” You lean further forward, baring the smooth, round flesh of your ass to him. A sound that’s somewhere between a cry and a moan tears from your throat and you jolt forward at the first, harsh contact of his hand against your skin.

“Say thank you, baby. ‘M teaching you how to behave. Training up my little housewife, yeah?” Your mind is melting, body turning liquid, letting him mould you into whatever shape he wants.

“Thank you, Daddy. Wanna be perfect for you,” you murmur absently, gasping as he strikes again, twice in quick succession. “Thank you,” you repeat, your world blurring at the edges as you sink deeper into submission, pleasure welling at the base of your spine.

Matty delivers two more hits, blurted gratitude falling from your lips each time. The pain swirls in your veins and clouds your mind, tangling with the ecstasy that beats in your bloodstream. “Good girl. Took it so well, princess.” One of his hands comes up to paw at your tit, pinching your nipple gently through the thin lace.

“Want your cock, Daddy, please,” you whine, grinding back against him, the pressure on your clit barely relieving.

The sound of his belt unlatching, of a zipper sliding, makes your cunt clench with excitement, Matty’s quiet moan as he palms himself sweet in your ear. “So fucking wet, sweetheart. Such a dirty girl, getting soaked from a spanking.” His nails dig into your hips. “My dirty girl.”

“Yours,” you whimper, breaking into a moan as he finally thrusts into you, burying himself in one stroke. “All yours, Daddy.” You roll your hips back against him, clenching your cunt as he fucks you, heat blooming under your skin with every deep thrust.

Matty grips your hips, sharp points of pain digging into your skin, the sensation warming into pleasure that vibrates at the base of your skull. Thought evades you, Matty slamming into you so hard that thought evades you, liquid pleasure dripping over your brain. Uninhibited moans flow freely from your lips and his, the sounds melting with the wet, obscene sounds of sex in a lewd melody you wish you could save and listen to on repeat. “So beautiful like this, angel. Can’t even fucking think, can you? Just wanna be a pretty little hole for me, huh?”

His words wash over you, cunt clenching pathetically around him. “‘M just your toy, Daddy,” you choke out, struggling to pull the words from your hazy, staticky mind. Euphoria coils low in your stomach, hot and tense where you drip against Matty’s cock. You widen your legs in a desperate attempt to urge him deeper, pleasure thick and sticky in your lungs as you gasp for breath.

“Love fucking you like this, baby. That pretty cunt all stretched out around me. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah?” he praises, kissing over your neck, biting bruises into the sensitive flesh. You whine, the mark of his ownership over you stretching warm under your skin. 

His hips never slow, keeping a brutal but measured pace, designed to pull you close to the edge without letting you fall. He holds you there torturously, dangling your orgasm in front of you like Tantalus’ fruit as you moan softly. Ecstasy thrums heavy between your thighs, tension agonisingly close to breaking. “Please, Daddy. Wanna cum,” you whine.

“You think you deserve it?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, the words curling through you, the implication sending a pulse of dread through you. “You want Daddy to make you cum, angel?”

You whimper, legs weak and trembling, clenching your cunt around him helplessly. “Yes. Been a good girl, Daddy. I want it so bad. Please,” you beg, a broken moan falling from your lips as Matty’s fingers find your clit, pleasure building endless under your skin.

“Made for this, hm? Made to be my girl, take care of my house so I can come home and only care about getting you all cockdrunk and happy, yeah?” He pinches your clit, the sensation spiralling gloriously up your spine. “Go on, darling, cum all over Daddy’s cock,” he orders, one final rough circle over your clit breaking you.

Sparks explode behind your lids, your vision whiting out as your orgasm slams into you, heat soaking into your bones as arousal floods out of you. Matty fucks you through, hips bucking against yours with abandon, wild as he edges closer. Moaning incoherently, you ride out the sensation, taking everything he gives you eagerly.

Coming down from your high, you whine as his hips slow. “Want you to keep going, Daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you moan, turning your head to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He laughs softly, a filthy smirk pulling at his lips. “That right, baby?” he murmurs, pace speeding, your body simply a vessel dragged along for the ride. “Want me to fuckin’ stuff you full, fuck you so hard I put a baby in you?” You moan wantonly, overstimulation driving you wild. “Fuck, can feel how much you want that. Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight, darling. ‘M close,” he promises, still in that same, punishing rhythm. With a final groan, he spills inside of you, painting your walls white as he pumps you full.

The sound as he pulls out of you is obscene, your body going limp as it finally relaxes. Then, Matty’s fingers brush over your dripping hole, and it flutters under your touch. You whimper something incoherent, and he croons softly. “Just a little more, if you’re up for it, princess. Need to fuck it back into you, nice and deep so it takes, yeah?”

Your legs turn to jelly, a flood of heat rushing through you. “Please,” you moan, whimpering as the tips of Matty’s fingers stroke over your cunt, gathering up his cum before he presses it back into you. You take him in greedily, the stretch familiarly gorgeous as he thrusts his fingers into you, slow and deep.

“That’s it, baby. Look at you, taking Daddy’s cum like a good girl.” Pleasure builds in your chest, slow-moving as it absorbs you and you let yourself fall into the sensation. “Gonna cum again, darling?” You nod powerlessly, words failing you. “Cum for me, sweet girl,” Matty says, urging instead of ordering, but it works the same. Your cunt throbs around his fingers, the second orgasm less intense, soft bliss washing over you as Matty slips his fingers out of you. You watch, eyes lidded, as he cleans his fingers, sucking the combined taste of you off his fingers with a moan. “You feeling good?” he asks, gently flipping you around to face him, holding you steady as your legs go weak.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, gazing up at him adoringly.

“Anything for you, angel. C’mere, let me take my wife to bed.” He gathers you in his arms, picking you up bridal style and letting you curl into his chest. No matter how many times you hear it, Matty calling you my wife always brings a smile to your face.

“Love you,” you murmur, gazing sweetly up at him.

“I love you, princess.”

[yourcoffeeguru]

Gems of Tasmania Cat Kitten Theme Miniature Dish Plate Decorative Gold Trim || SWtradepost - ebay

[is-the-fire-real]

Three cercolons. Literally translates to "big circles", cercolons are decorative wall plates and a specialty of Andalusia. These are ceramic and hand-painted. The first two depict the Temple menorah (with seven branches), one in various shades of blue and one in a variety of colors. The other depicts a Magen David lined with leaves and flowers.

All of the golden-colored edging and accents are 24-carat gold. The flowers and decorative edgework are examples of cuerda seca (dry cord), a technique for painting tiles and ceramics which dates to the period of Arabic colonization of Spain.

[rachalixie]

a/n: eid mubarak! i hope this reaches the people that i want it to :) i tried my very best as i don't celebrate personally, but i think that eid is an absolutely beautiful holiday and deserves to be appreciated by all. special thank you to @astraystayyh and @lino-nyangi i love you two so much i hope your celebrations are magnificent and that your tummies are full of good food and you eat lots and lots of sweets <3

chan arrives in a flurry of excitement, giggling as your younger cousins and siblings flock to him and hang off of his legs. he ruffles their hair, telling them how much they’ve grown since he last saw them, and finishes it off with folded bills that he presses into their hands along with a gentle kiss to the crowns of their heads. one by one, he gains their favor and they squeal about how he’s their favorite uncle - a thought that makes him blush and intertwine his fingers with yours. 

minho helps you cook dish after dish, porcelain and ceramic serving plates stacking up as you cook together. the air in your kitchen smells absolutely divine, spices and saffron and nutty rice steaming away as the two of you flirt around each other and exchange kisses over the sink. he always enjoys learning how to make new recipes, but learning the foods you used to make with your mom as a child is something dear to him.

changbin takes the time to learn things - asks your father what he’s supposed to do because he wants to make sure he’s doing things perfectly. he cares less about the formalities and more of the hidden things he can do, wanting to surprise you just to see that pleased look on your face. you’re making that look now, as he approaches you after having coffee with your father and uncles, and he hands you his empty cup. it’s full of gold chocolate coins, and he sheepishly admits that he didn’t have real gold but he thought it would do. the way you lean up to kiss him, keeping his body between yours and the door so no one can see, tells him that he did just fine.

hyunjin revels in your beauty; though he thinks you’re gorgeous all of the time, something about seeing you in traditional clothes with threads of gold woven into colorful fabrics makes you glow in a way he can’t get enough of. he puts on the finishing touch, sliding intricate jhumkas into your ears, the weight of them a comforting reminder of his fingers brushing against your lobes. he tells you how beautiful you are countless times, whispering it to you so only you can hear, but everyone knows from the blood that rushes to your cheeks in turn.

jisung spends weeks after weeks in secret learning arabic, or rather trying. he stumbles upon his letters, syllables that make no sense to his tongue, but he practices over and over until he can say one thing that he whispers to you just as the clock strikes midnight. eid mubarak, he mumbles as he brushes his fingers across your brow, his eyes shiny in the moonlight as he keeps his gaze fixed on you. he’ll repeat the phrase to your family and friends later, but his clumsy pronunciation and small smile make this first one so special to you.

felix revels in the act of charity always, but sharing it with you brings a lightness to his heart that he can’t get enough of. he’s more motivated than you are, dragging you to homeless shelters and daycares and wherever he can find to volunteer and give back. on the last day, he shyly shows you a list of charities he’s donated to all month, in your name, and you tackle him into a hug with tears in your eyes.

seungmin fits in like he’s been celebrating with you for years. he stuffs his belly full with delicious food, chats with your parents with a wide grin on his face, plays with the children like he raised them himself. he does everything perfectly, knowing when to greet people and when to participate in prayer and where to go. it surprises you in a delightful way, in the same way that he always does when he knows something about you that you don’t even know yourself. you discover later, when you unlock his phone to take photos of him laughing across the room, the extensive research on eid traditions that he has open in his browser.

jeongin is so nervous to meet your extended family for the first time. he fiddles with his hair for an hour, making sure that not a single strand is out of place. he smooths down his clothes when he gets out of the car, and stares at the front door of your parents’ house with wide eyes and an open mouth, and you have to press his jaw up with gentle fingers as your mother opens the door. you watch the nervousness fizzle out as he’s greeted with warm welcomes from everyone, treating like he’s part of the family already. 

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Azul Ashengrotto - Luxe Couture Vignette

"Please come this way"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: …Now, now, don't say that!

Azul: I would be honored if you would come by the Mostro Lounge to come see my photo with Eric-san.

Vil: I'm staggered. You would not only use my father, but also myself to increase your reputation?

Grim: Oh hey, if it ain't Vil and Azul. What're you guys talkin' about?

Azul: We just happened to come across each other over here, so we were merely chatting about plans once we return to campus. Have the two of you been shopping?

1. I bought some clothes for myself.

Azul: You bought clothing at the Crystal Galleria? You must be a better shopper than I thought.

2. I bought some gifts for everyone back home.

Azul: A wonderful sentiment. Keeping people in your debt is very valuable.

Azul: I myself just finished purchasing some cosmetics. After this, I plan on perusing some tableware.

Grim: Huh, tableware? Don't really matter what gets used, to me.

Grim: The food 'n drinks're waaay more important than the plates 'n cups.

Azul: I fully believed that would be your response, Grim-san.

Vil: I absolutely adore that sort of dedication. The more opulent the tableware, the more sophisticated the mealtime becomes.

Vil: Weren't the plates, cups, and cutlery at the restaurant we dined at yesterday utterly sublime?

Grim: I don't remember a thing about 'em.

Vil: ...Right, I was a fool for even asking that in the first place.

Azul: The golden rimmed white porcelain plates at that restaurant was indeed spectacular.

Azul: Decorated in both matte and glossy gold, these surely were high-quality wares. A rare sight, indeed.

Vil: Well, now. You're well informed, Azul.

Vil: It may be interesting to shop for tableware with someone who actually knows a thing or two. I'll join you.

Azul: Why, certainly. Would you like to join us, [Yuu]-san?

1. I'd like to. 2. I'm definitely interested.

Grim: 'Kay, then I'll tag along too, then. But anyway, do they even sell stuff like that here?

Vil: Of course. Fine ceramic wares are yet another major product of the Fairest City. There are also many antique shops.

Grim: Uh-huh. So it's not just make-up 'n clothes 'n food, huh.

Azul: It is said that there were 3 primary factors that led to the development of those fine ceramic wares in the Fairest City.

Azul: The first factor was due to the nearby mines.

Azul: The neighboring mountain range had an abundance of high-quality clay, for which artisans from all over began to come for.

Azul: The second factor is the development of pharmaceuticals thanks to knowledge passed down from the Fairest Queen.

Vil: That pharmaceutical science was then used to develop a diverse array of pigments, and that allowed for the field of colors to become what it is today.

Azul: Indeed. It's just as you say.

Azul: And the final factor is the sense of beauty that every Fairest Queen-loving inhabitant of the Fairest City carries.

Azul: Thus, the potters and sculptors who were raised with a heightened awareness of beauty themselves brought their ceramics to an entirely new level when it comes to works of art.

Vil: Only the residents of the Fairest City would find ways to elevate beauty in fields other than fashion and makeup.

Azul: We've arrived. I hear this shop carries a rather large collection of antique tableware for sale.

Vil: Have you already done prior research?

Azul: Yes, indeed. I must admit I have been looking forward to purchasing new tableware.

Grim: Woah! There's a ton of sparkly dishes and stuff!

Vil: What sort of tableware are you planning on purchasing, Azul?

Azul: I believe I'd like to find teacups, saucers, and a matching teapot.

1. What about this golden tea set?

Grim: Yeah! The shiny gold color is so cool! Azul: I see they allowed gold to oxidize and used that to create a pattern for the design. I must admit it is extravagant and definitely draws an eye. Vil: An opulent design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

2. Look at this pink tea set!

Azul: I see it is a set of teacups with a frill molding. The flower pattern along the rim is so wonderfully subtle. Vil: A rather cute design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: Fufu, I agree completely. Perhaps now we can look at the wares that had caught my eye?

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: This is the one I am looking to purchase here.

Grim: This one, huh? It's just a borin' looking white cup with a tiny bit of blue stuff on it.

Azul: That dainty and subtle touch is intended to be its charm point… It seems you fail to comprehend that, Grim-san.

Azul: This bright white porcelain shows not a hint of translucency… Does it not seem to be the pinnacle of class?

Vil: It certainly does have a refined beauty about it.

Azul: The elegant design carved out of the rim of the teacup is called a "scalloped rim."

Azul: And consider this wave-like handle curled along the side… Even the minute details are so stunning.

Grim: A handle? What, you gonna steer somethin' with this cup, then?

Vil: Obviously the handle is where you hold the cup.

Vil: But, Azul. These cups and teapot are a vintage set.

Vil: Is there any need for you to use such an extravagant tea set in a café that caters to students?

Azul: Indeed. I consider this a necessary investment.

Azul: Just because my customers are students does not mean that I intend on compromising my standards.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[camera shutters clicking and screaming]

Fans: KYAAAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAAA!!!

Reporter: If I can run an article on Vil Schoenheit, then there's no doubt that both magazine sales and website traffic are gonna go through the roof!

Reporter: Alright, now I just gotta hop this barrier so I can cover Vil Schoenheit up close…

[Grrk…]

Azul: Oh, my, it is dangerous to attempt to climb the barrier. Please take all photographs from the designated area.

Reporter: You little brat, don't get in my way! [Azul starts pushing] Urgh, what strength! He's pushing the whole barrier back towards me…!

Azul: If those instructions cannot be followed properly, I may have to take appropriate countermeasures…

Azul: For example, I may be inclined to ring up your place of employment and file a complaint at the highest levels.

Reporter: Okay, fine, just get out of my way, then! I can't even take a picture with you like this!

Azul: How wonderful that we've reached an understanding. Vil-san, please come this way.

Vil: Thank you… You were awfully efficient in handling that.

Azul: When you've made as many deals as I have, it's not uncommon to encounter troubled clients in need of extra firm handling.

Azul: I'm just glad I was able to put the mediation skills I've accumulated to good use.

Vil: Not only are you handling the press well… But you are doing a fantastic job as my escort.

Azul: Well, it also is not uncommon for me to host prospective business contacts personally, either.

Azul: Ah, we are almost at the staircase.

Azul: Right this way. If you wish, my hand is yours to take.

Vil: Well, then. I shall accept it.

―A few days later

[Mostro Lounge]

Octavinelle Student: Welcome!

Azul: Oh my… If it isn't Vil-san! You've come, as promised! I'm so elated.

Vil: Excuse you. I don't recall ever promising you anything. However…

Vil: I was merely thinking back to how you handled yourself previously. I do expect exceptional service today as well.

Vil: Business seems to be going well… Are you using that tea set you purchased back then?

Azul: I am. Right now… The guests at that table are enjoying the tea served in it.

Deuce/Epel: AHAHAHA!

Vil: …There is no way those two even remotely understand the worth of those cups.

Vil: Neither would the rest of these customers. Do you still think that it was worth selecting that specific set?

Azul: Absolutely. I vow to serve drinks and meals on quality dishes that I have personally selected.

Azul: That is something that I will never compromise as the proprietor of the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: You yourself would never touch clothes or cosmetics that don't suit your design or aesthetic taste, yes?

Vil: So, just as I carefully concoct my personal brand by being particular on how I fashion myself…

Vil: You look to enhance the Mostro Lounge by careful consideration of the tableware and table linen.

Vil: I think that fastidious approach of yours is just as spectacular. Perhaps I have judged you a tad harshly.

Azul: Why, thank you. I fully believed that you of all people would understand, Vil-san.

Azul: However… I cannot deny that at times I would like to share that appreciation of the tableware's elegance with someone who actually understands their worth.

Azul: That being said, Vil-san, allow me to prepare your order on my absolute finest plates.

Requested by Anonymous.