#silver stemware

[meekamaye]

Winter Memories

(I wrote this a couple of years ago on a very cold Minnesota day. Today it is 91 degrees on the last day of July.) This time of year puts me in mind of my grandparents cabin in northern Minnesota. I stroll through the cabin once again and recall the little cast iron stove that heated the three main rooms; the living room, kitchen and bedroom. The back bedroom, which had been my brother’s was…

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Red and Silver ~

[persephoneflouwers]

Lol yeah sometimes my mother will catch me drinking tea out of a fancy silver teapot with a beautiful teacup or walking around with stemware at 11am and she’s like “why???” But why not? Otherwise the teapot just gets tarnished and unused and the stemware collects dust since I don’t drink alcohol that often. And it’s fun. Right now I’m actually drinking Gatorade out of a vintage fancy goblet because I’m a bit sick (otherwise I never drink Gatorade) and you know what? It has actively put me in a happier mood.

Oh my god haha that sounds fun. I agree, when you do something like this your mood changes. Sometimes I just drink water with a straw because it feels more refreshing, can you believe it? it’s all in your head 💀brain works in mysterious ways

[thewatercolours]

OK, this is a bit of a failed attempt at a scene. It was supposed to turn into a discussion of how sometimes Neese and Vee have been sent to do some outright stealing for Hagatha - not just picking up something from the wilderness, but sneaking into people's property and taking things. I had meant for all three of them to have very different moral ideas about how to deal with such a situation (almost like a real life echo of Moral Quarrel,) and Neese especially feeling guilty about some of the situations they've been forced into. But the scene just didn't want to write itself, and so I give you the only part of the scene that turned out which I will warn you has some rather cheesy, shippy stuff. It wasn't meant to go in that direction - like I say, this is the scene that didn't work.

Pouring drinks without making a mess is difficult in a lurching tower that decides to stand up and take a stroll at odd moments. It’s even trickier when the drinks in question are scalding hot. Princess Vee presses her lips in concentration. Before her stand three silver wineglasses. In her hand, an etched-glass brewing pot, full of freshly stolen coffee. Right-o. She skims over the wineglasses in one slow, fluid motion, without even bothering to right the pot before she passes to the next glass. Not a drop falls on the table. She smiles in self-congratulation – all she’s likely to get, given the way Neese and Graham’s gazes are locked firmly on each other.

Vee spreads her arms to tap them both on the shoulders. They finally break eye contact, and glance up at her vaguely. They look almost like swimmers who have just come up for air and don’t quite know where they are.  

“Coffee. Don’t spill it,” she cautions them as she hands the glasses round. “Besides the risk I took pinching it from Hagatha, this stuff is scandalously pricey. Or would have been if she’d got it honestly.”

“How do you know she didn’t?” asks Graham, turning the glass about curiously.

She knows what he must be thinking. Coffee in stemware, really? But after her last run-in with old Candlewax-Face downstairs, she doesn’t dare sneak down to the kitchen to find more suitable cups. “Didn’t what?”

“Get it honestly,” says Graham. “I mean, maybe she did. I know she’s a witch and all, but I feel like would actually be way harder if you had to steal, you know, everything.”

“Oh, just imagine!” Neese adds, scooting her chair round to Graham’s side of the table. “You see something you like in a shop and think, ‘Oh, I like that! Oh, how nice it would be to just walk up to the counter, and pay for it, and take it home right away. But no, I’m a villain and will probably have to stay up all night making notes for a dastardly plot to get away with it.’ It sounds awfully tiresome. I couldn’t be a villain, no matter how much you paid me.” The chair-scooting hasn’t stopped.

Vee lifts the brewing pot and tips it so that a bunch of tiny, golden balls clutter against the side. “See these?” She taps the glass with her nails. “Real gold.”

“Not enough to be worth very much,” Graham says doubtfully.

“No, but I happen to know that that they’re the hallmark of the world’s most elite coffee-sellers, Ganahaya and Daughters. And they only put the golden ball in their best, the really bespoke sort. The kind you can only get from beyond the edges of most maps. I’m not saying we couldn’t buy this if we put our three kingdoms together, but…”

Vee winks at Neese. Whether she is admitting the whole thing was a tall tale, or means the wink as a comment on the way Neese has pulled Graham’s arm to rest on the back of her chair, she’ll leave them to guess. Though from the way Neese giggles and Graham’s ears are changing to match his cloak, neither of them ware thinking much about guessing.

 Vee throws up her hands and straightens her smile out as best she can. “Honestly. All this blushing and tittering. Are either of you actually old enough for coffee? It might stunt your growth.”

The sweethearts stop giggling, and begin sipping at their drinks, but neither of them pull away from each other.

[twowk]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Rare Zodax Metal Aperitif Glasses.

[ibjb]

Edgar Berebi, an American Atelier, crafting exquisite limited edition pieces in 24K gold plate or silver plated stemware, photo frames, collectible boxes, and desk accessories, and knobs and pulls. Edgar Berebi designs include Swarovski Crystals and guilloche enamel.

[justbysheyda]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Set of 8 vintage Salem Silver plate Portugal wine, champagne Goblets stemware.

[pushpa-exports]

The Silver Wine Cabinet is a sophisticated addition to any wine connoisseur's home. With its sleek and modern design, complemented by a stunning silver finish, it offers both style and functionality. This cabinet provides the perfect storage solution for your wine collection, stemware, and accessories, ensuring your favorite vintages are always at your fingertips. Elevate your home bar or dining area with this elegant wine cabinet, combining form and function in one exquisite piece of furniture.

[afaceinthecrowdstuff]

Henry's Last Supper

In the formal dining room where ancestral personages starred down from lofty perches, candlelight glistened playfully off cut-glass crystal and freshly polished silver. Decanters of water and wine sat ready to be poured. Place settings of fine porcelain and delicate stemware carefully laid for a party of three. From a discrete stereo Vivaldi’s Four Seasons burbled melodically as flowing water.…

[dorian019]

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Handmade holiday party wine glass charm tags.

[furniturestoreindore]

Tips for Beautifying a Small Dining Room

The following ideas for small dining room furniture are likely to be the most useful to most people out of all the dining room tips available. Few people have large separate dining rooms instead, such areas are either part of the kitchen or the living room, or they are small rooms with limited floor space.

Make Use of Light Colours

Lighter shades tend to make a room appear larger, but dark colours tend to make it appear smaller. Light does not have to be boring, and whites and pastels may be accentuated with a vivid contrasting hue. This works especially well when colour is used to attract attention to certain ornamental components.

However, don't overdo it with colour. You may utilize vividly coloured dining chairs with light wall coverings or even white painted walls, or you can have one colorful wall with others in white or a neutral tone. Use whatever works best for you, however white and soft pastel colours with a few vivid colours are common.

Make the Most of Lighting

Keep your windows as large as possible to allow in as much natural light as feasible. A single huge pane of glass seems larger than numerous smaller ones. Avoid dark drapes and keep window furniture to a minimum. Bright colours may draw attention to the light entering through a window, therefore many people choose for bright yellow or red curtains to contrast with white wooden or vinyl frames.

Artificial light should be glittering but not blinding, and a tiny chandelier is the appropriate form of overhead lighting for a small dining area. A little table will look bigger as a result of this. Overhead spotlights or ceiling space lighting are also ideal if you have a dimmer switch. In whatever size dining room, the lighting should be discreet yet enough.

A low ceiling should not be emphasized, but rather somewhat disguised by a low level of upward illumination - the ceiling should be 'up there someplace' without guests having the impression they can reach up and touch it! Open up the ceiling if it has been artificially lowered - a design element used from the 1960s through the 1990s that makes rooms appear smaller.

Utilize Mirrors

Mirrors not only maximise light but also make a room appear larger, especially when they reflect each other. A modest chandelier, or even spotlights, can be made to go much further by using two or three gently slanted mirrors reflecting a single light source. Arranging mirrors to reflect sparkling glassware or silver will help make a room appear larger.

Table Furnishings

Centerpieces, flower vases, bowls, and even stemware are all included in this category. Your table should be set up in such a way that it encourages conversation in three ways:

·         Your tableware and accessories should not hinder your guests' sight, and any flowers should be arranged in low-level vases or bowls.

·         Your stemware should be crystal, even if it is lead crystal, because dazzling glasses always look excellent at a dinner table, and their reflections in a mirror can open up a tiny dining room completely.

·         Fabrics should be used in your décor to absorb sound waves, as explained below.

 Acoustics of a Small Dining Room

To deaden the acoustics in the room is one of the most effective dining room furniture suggestions that you will not often find. A tiny room with simple walls and wooden flooring will reflect sound waves, making discussion appear to boom and resound, especially as the evening progresses and the wine begins to kick in! Bharat Lifestyle Furniture offers small dining room furniture in Indore. Visit their store to see their selection.

While a highly polished or even rustic wood table looks great, a tablecloth is more practical. This not only prevents scratches and dropped food, but it also absorbs sound waves. Fabric wall coverings are also attractive, while wallpaper is preferable to paint or paneling. Each of them contributes to sound deadening, allowing you to hear what people are saying without the booming and reflection of their voices.

Furniture Suggestions for the Dining Room

If you have a tiny dining area, you should choose your furnishings properly. A circular dining table creates the illusion of extra space around the room's perimeter. A round table can also seat more people due to the additional space, and if it has a pedestal base, you won't have to worry about table legs getting in the way of your visitors' legs!

Your dining chairs should be armless and slim rather than clunky - they may take up the same amount of total area, but slender seats provide the illusion of more space between diners. Some dining room furniture lines provide double chairs, which are similar to dining loveseats. These are ideal for making the most of the available space around a rectangle table.

There are many more dining room furniture recommendations to provide, such as employing extendable tables and selecting the right cupboards or buffets, but the ones listed above should help you make the most of your little dining room - or even your enormous dining room, because size is relative.

There are many more dining room furniture recommendations to provide, such as employing extendable tables and selecting the right cupboards or buffets, but the ones listed above should help you make the most of your little dining room - or even your enormous dining room, because size is relative. Visit furniture shop Indore for best dining room furniture.

[clittleshop]

I can’t find the pattern name, but they will be listed today, regardless. They are too cool to wait for research. #glasses #gettinglisted #comingsoon #clittleshop #midcenturymodern #midcentury #champagneglass #silver #blue #etched #tall #stemware #glass #vintage #cool (at CLittleShop) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNXHHGXlWWo/?igshid=x3kamzm440as

[txemrn]

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Song Inspo: "Everything We Need" by A Day to Remember

Summary: While attending the Bloom's Thanksgiving dinner party, Dr. Tatum Erikson reminisces her earliest memories of the holiday, and learns quickly that those humble traditions won't soon be forgotten thanks to her new family

Word Count: ~3920 (+/-)

Warning: a smidge of angst, but this is fairly fluffy; a few curse words; reference to child abuse and neglect; reference to grief

A/N: Better late than never! I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving! Most of these characters belong to Pixelberry; huge thanks to @kat-tia801 and @ao719 for pre-reading some chunks of this piece.

----------

Small fleeting vapors of her warm breath dance across her crimson lips into the brisk Boston sky; her cheeks glow rosy pink, making her bright eyes sparkle like sapphires even in the darkness of night. Marveling at the glittering twilight, Tatum Erikson steps out further onto the quiet balcony, wrapping her arms around her body. Feeling the goosebumps on her normally soft skin, she wishes she hadn’t let the kind greeter take her jacket. For starters, she wasn’t sure her company for the evening would be approving of the blanket of filigree and lace inked across her entire shoulder cap. But, now that she is chilled, she could really use the extra warmth of her glen plaid peacoat. Who has a coat check-in at a Thanksgiving dinner anyway? Leave it to the Blooms. So pretentious. She had to escape--just for a moment--from the crystal stemware, from the aged brandy, from caviar-garnished, well, everything.

Tatum inches closer to the balustrade, resting her hands on the frigid smooth stone. A simple, flesh-colored surgical scar on her delicate wrist catches her attention before she adjusts her rose-gold bracelet to hide it from sight. The silver crescent moon flirts with her attention, pulling her into the deep sea of her memories: back to a simpler time, back to a time when she still believed in magic and wishing on shooting stars. Basking in the blue moonlight, she cinches her eyes tightly closed. The sounds of obnoxious laughter and the clanging of china from the affluent dinner party diminish into silence. A single, familiar voice echoes softly.

“Tatum?”

Her eyes startle open just in time to watch the remnants of celestial dust streak across the sky. Gasping into a toothy smile she flutters her eyes closed again. And makes a wish.

“Tater Tot?”

And all she can see is him.

“Did you find one?” Eleven-year-old Trevor Erikson grabs an extra blanket, wrapping it snuggly around his six-year-old little sister Tatum. She shakes her head no, her bottom jaw trembling from the cold as she coddles her wrist close to her body. “Well, keep looking, silly! There are plenty of stars out there. We just need one.”

“I’m hungry, Trevor.” Her quiet, innocent voice quivers. “Do you think Mommy is coming to pick us up? She said I could have berry sauce.”

“Cranberry sauce, Tater Tot. It’s called cranberry sauce.” Trevor kindly smirks, playfully gripping her pink-nose between his knuckles.

“Maybe she got lost.” A tinge of hope soars through her tone. “She hasn’t been here in a long time. She might have forgotten.”

Trevor slowly sighs, his face falling as he tries to find the right, tender words to share with his little sister. “Mom was supposed to pick us up this morning for Thanksgiving, Tate. I don’t think she’s coming.” He gingerly rubs her back, “But, hey, I’ll cook us something when Dad gets the power turned back on.”

Tatum nervously looks back outside, her breath fogging up the bedroom window. She hugs her wrist again, her eyes darting back and forth down the dirt road as she looks for the truck’s headlights.

She didn’t mean to make her father mad again. She actually has been trying extra hard not to make him yell as much in hopes for a new pair of shoes from Santa Claus. But, at the mention of her mother, young Tatum became the target of his wrath. When she tried to hide, he caught her by the arm, twisting her wrist until they both heard a crack. Dropping the terrified little girl on the ground, he grabbed his keys and left. That was almost eight hours ago.

Tatum stares intently out the window. This time, she would be prepared. This time, she would be good. This time, she would hide before he could get angry with her.

Trevor continues to look for items that will help keep them warm throughout the night. He has watched his dad burn brush and trash in a barrel outside plenty of times, but he can't find a single match. His father has a secret stash of lighters next to his pack of Marlboro reds in the truck, but once again, he and the truck were nowhere to be found.

Trevor decides to work on the next problem: food. Opening up the pantry, he is dismayed to find bare shelves and empty containers. He discovers a bag of rice, but without power, he is clueless as to how to cook it. Reaching far back in a cabinet, he pulls out a can of cream of celery soup, but they only had an electric can opener. He found a bottle of soy sauce and mustard, but he wasn’t about to feed that to his baby sister, let alone himself.

Frustrated, he storms into his room. He digs into the back of his closet, pulling out an old, tattered shoe box. One by one, he pulls out $1.81 in change. He then slips on his coat, a skull cap, and gloves.

“Trevor?” Tatum chases after her older brother. “Trevor? Where are you going?”

He grabs her jacket, handing it to her to put around her. “We are going to celebrate Thanksgiving. Let’s go get food.” He stops to give a reassuring nod to his sister. “Is that okay, Tater Tot?”

“Tate?”

“Tate?”

A man’s wool sports coat is slipped onto Tatum’s chilled arms; the frigid air suddenly swells with the warmth of Ethan Ramsey’s comforting, woodsy smell. She delicately grabs the lapels, pulling the oversized jacket around her body.

“I know you have to be freezing out here,” he sardonically chuckles, gently combing her curled, blonde locks out from being tucked under his jacket. He then firmly strokes her arms to warm her up before tightening her into an effortless embrace. He presses his lips against the shell of her ear. “Any shooting stars tonight?”

Tatum bites her bottom lip as Ethan’s pout returns to her ear, finding his way to barely grazing her neck. Twirling around in his arms to face him, their mouths meet sweetly, pecking once, twice, three times before she rests her head against the firm planes of his chest.

It had only been a couple of months since Ethan and Tatum had taken the plunge, agreeing to exclusively date each other again. No relationship is perfect; but, even though they each had a ton of baggage to unpack from the last fifteen years, being together was the answer. It had always been the answer.

“Nope. No shooting stars. But you're here now, so I don't need one,” Tatum sweetly whispers, gazing dreamily into Ethan’s eyes.

Clearing his throat, Ethan purses his lips together, choking back a laugh. “Wow. Want some wine with that cheese?”

“Really?" Tatum's face drops into a scowl as she scoffs. “You’re not even using that punny phrase correctly." She rolls her eyes, letting out a dramatic exhale as she pushes away to jokingly pout. "I was trying to be romantic, asshole.”

“Ahh, see? There’s the whine,” he snickers into a knowing smirk. Tatum can't help, but smile in defeat.

Ethan gently takes her elbow, guiding her back into his protective arms. Planting tender kisses in her hair, her eyes flutter, relishing the moment. Finally looking up towards Ethan, his lips instantly find hers, melting into a warming kiss.

A sudden roar of laughter from inside the dinner party abruptly pulls the couple apart. “Well, I guess we better rejoin the group,” Tatum suggests, a clear reluctance in her tone.

“That’s why I came out here.” A look of sorrow flushes Ethan’s stoic demeanor. “There’s a case in the ER needing an ethics committee--”

“Oh no,” Tatum clenches her teeth, giving a mournful look, “that poor family. And on Thanksgiving--”

“Exactly. It’s Thanksgiving. Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” Tatum laces her fingers with Ethan’s. “Duty calls, Chief,” she smiles brightly, jovially saluting him. More than anyone, Tatum understands the demands of Ethan’s job, and likewise, he respects the exigencies of hers.

But, Ethan is right: it is Thanksgiving. Trevor gave Ethan the heads up back in medical school while the soldier was visiting the couple for Christmas between tours. Although she conceals it well, major holidays are bittersweet for Tatum. She wars with herself every year between basking in the joy of the season or getting lost in memories of the past. It's unintentional, but her ghosts are real.

She feigns the role of supportive partner today for him, but mainly because she wants to look and feel normal. But in reality, she needs him. And she hates herself for being that girl.

"Try to have fun, okay?" Ethan offers a crooked smile, pulling Tatum into another hug, finishing with a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll call you.”

Watching him bound out the door, Tatum takes a couple of deep cleansing breaths before rejoining the Bloom's dinner party. Entering the room, she was greeted immediately by several guests, including several newcomers to the party.

“Tatum!”

“Tatum,” Trevor reaches out for his little sister’s hand as they walk into their local Seven-Eleven. The trek was frigid in the sub-freezing temperatures, but luckily the convenience store was less than a mile away. “Stay close to me.”

They walk together over to the ready-made food, their eyes growing large with excitement. Looking at the rolling hot dogs and greasy pieces of pizza instantly made their hungry stomachs growl with glee. But, unfortunately, they were only able to afford one hot dog or one piece of pizza.

“Let’s see if there’s something else that will warm us up and fill us up,” Trevor grins while informing Tatum. He wasn’t about to tell her that he is clueless as to what--or when--they would eat next.

Suddenly, a deep raspy voice of an older woman, wearing a vest with Seven-Eleven logo on it startles them. “Can I help you?” Her face brightens when she recognizes Trevor. “Oh, hey, kid! Your dad want the usual?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Trevor cordially shakes his head. “My sister and I are just grabbing some snacks--”

“It’s sorta late for you two to be out.” Her piercing hazel eyes shift from Trevor to a shy Tatum, hiding behind her big brother. “Don’t you have Thanksgiving leftovers?”

“Oh, um,” Trevor grins, “we wanted something different to eat.” He grabs Tatum’s hand and walks down another aisle.

“Trevor?” Tatum innocently whispers, “what are 'Thanksgiving leftovers'?"

"Remember how Mom talked about all the different types of foods? The turkey? The rolls? The casseroles? The--?"

"--berry sauce?" Tatum interrupts, a smile crawling across her face at the mention of the dish.

Trevor sighs into a chuckle. “Cranberry sauce, Tater Tot. Well, there’s so much food, no one can possibly finish it. So, there is food ‘left over’ for another meal.”

“Wow!” Tatum’s eyes widen with shock. “That’s crazy!”

Trevor leads the way to a shelf with styrofoam cups of pre-packaged Asian noodles. “Now we’re talking,” he breathes a sigh of relief. He smiles when he sees the price: $0.89 for each cup. “Do you want beef or chicken?”

“Can I get berry sauce instead?”

Trevor looks over at his sister who is tenderly holding a dented-in can of cranberry sauce. “Tatum, we can’t--”

“Please, Trevor?” She pleads.

“Tate,” he shifts his eyes around, ensuring no one was listening. “You need to eat something that is going to fill you up and keep you warm. Cranberry sauce is like dessert. It tastes good, but you’re going to be hungry.” He grabs the can, placing it back on the metal shelf. “Besides,” he lowers his voice, “we don’t have enough money.” He hands her the cup of noodles. “Here. I bet you they have a microwave here--”

“No.” Tatum crosses her arms, refusing to take the container.

“Tate?”

“I don’t want noodles. Or-or rice. Or soup.”

“Tatum,” Trevor sternly calls her name, reaching out to rest a calming hand on her shoulder; but she shrugs away with a scowl on her face.

“I want Thanksgiving, Trevor,” she whines. “Why does everyone else get Thanksgiving? And leftovers? And berry sauce?”

“Shhh, Tatum--”

“--and a nice mommy and a daddy?”

Trevor froze, watching the thunderclouds build in her innocent eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer, not because he wants to spare his little sister’s feelings. He honestly doesn’t know the answer to her questions. And, he probably never will.

“Come here, Tate.” He motions for her to come closer, giving her a hug. “I’m sorry--I really am.” He turns his attention to the noodles in his hands. “But, this is the best I can do right now. I promise--next year will be different--”

“‘Scuse me,” the kind, older clerk from earlier interrupts their whispers. Unbeknownst to them, she had been listening to their entire conversation. “Are you two ready to check out?”

Trevor smiles politely. “Yes, ma’am.” He hands over the two cups of noodles while she quickly grabs another product from the shelf before leading the way to the register. Once behind the counter, she inspects Tatum’s small frame and smiles. “That sure is a pretty coat.”

Tatum beams, coyly grinning as she models her purple winter coat, playing with the drawstrings with her good hand.

“What do you say, Tate?” Trevor prompts with a low voice.

“Oh! Thank you, ma’am--”

“Darlin’? What happened to your arm there?” In the midst of showing off her jacket, the deep discoloration of her wrist was exposed for the clerk to see.

“Oh,” Tatum fixes her eyes to the ground, her voice growing quiet. “I was talking to Daddy about Mommy and picking us up for Thanksgiving, and then--”

“--she accidentally slipped and fell off the wooden deck earlier while she was playing,” finished Trevor. “She gets pretty clumsy.” The clerk narrowed her eyes, glaring at Trevor before training her eyes on Tatum. Noticing the suspicious look on her face, Tatum begins to nod her head, agreeing with her brother’s story.

“Hrmm, well, then,” the clerk gives a sympathetic smile. “Best be careful on that deck next time, hrmm?.” Tatum nervously nods. The attendant turns to Trevor. “That’ll be $1.91,” she sympathetically smiles.

“Oh, ma’am? I thought they were eighty-nine cents a piece,” questions Trevor as he digs into his pockets, pulling out his coins.

“Plus tax--”

“Tax. Of course.” He spills out his pocket of coins, counting out his $1.81. “I’m sorry. I-I guess I don’t have enough,” he bows his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to waste your time, ma’am--”

“Y’know?” she interjects, resting on her elbows to talk closer with the children. “We get a lot of impatient truckers from the interstate, stopping by here. You wouldn’t believe how many times they tell me to keep the change from their transactions because they don’t want to wait for me to count it out for them,” she sarcastically snickers. “Here.” She reaches below the counter, pulling out a dime. “That oughta do the trick,” she grins, scooping the silver coins in her hand.

A flood of relief washes over Trevor as he wraps his arm around Tatum. “Thank you so much, ma’am--”

The clerk nods, winking at the young boy. “There is a hot water spigot next to the coffee burners, but be careful. It’s boiling hot.”

Trevor gives a grateful smile as he turns with his sister to head back to the coffee burns.

“Um… say, what are you two going to eat for dessert?” The young boy turns back, his eyebrows furrowed sorrowfully at the clerk before shrugging his shoulders. “You gotta have dessert on Thanksgiving!” The attendant joyfully smiles as she pulls out the dented can of cranberry sauce. “Listen, I can’t sell this can lookin’ like this, so I have to charge it back to the company in which they will tell me to throw it away. Would either of you be interested in some cranberry sauce?”

Tatum’s eyes light up, fixating on the can. “Can we have some, Trevor?” She tugs on his arm. “Pretty, pretty please?”

With a chuckle and a curt nod from her older brother, the friendly attendant came out from behind the counter with the precious can of cranberry sauce in hand. While Trevor prepared the cup of noodles, the clerk went back into her office, looking for a can opener with no avail, but was able to find a knife, a screwdriver and a hammer. After several innovative attempts to crack open the aluminum can, they were finally able to create a big enough hole for the gelatinous confection to pour out into a bowl.

While Trevor finishes preparing their dinner, the attendant takes Tatum to her warm office. Sitting in her rolling chair next to the heater, she sweetly lifts the little girl to sit in her lap while they adjust a bag of frozen peas onto her tiny bruised wrist. “I know it’s cold, darlin’, but we need that swellin’ to go down.”

“Swelling? Like when your boo-boo gets bigger?”

“That’s right,” the clerk raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Did you know that your body knows when you have a boo-boo? And-and it sends fluids to help make you feel better? That’s what makes it bigger.”

“You’re a smart little cookie, aren’t cha?” The attendant chuckles to herself, wrapping a warm embrace around Tatum. “You just might be a doctor someday, little one.”

“Noodles are ready!” Trevor bounds into the room, taking a seat in a metal folding chair next to his sisters and the convenience store worker. Without missing a beat, the two children dive into their feast, eliciting sweet moans of joy of finally eating food.

“You know what this means, don’t cha?” The clerk interrupts. Both of the children curiously return their attention to the older woman. “You have a new family tradition,” she kindly smiles.

“What’s a family tradition?” Quietly asks Tatum.

The clerk sweetly combs Tatum’s blonde wisps behind her ear. “A family tradition can be anything. It’s doing something special to help you remember something important about the past. It could be eating a special meal to remember a loved one or playing a specific game to remember a fun memory or watching a holiday movie because everyone loves it. The most important part of family tradition is that it brings family together, no matter how big or small.”

“So,” Tatum slurps up a noodle, “what could our tradition be?”

“...but the most important part is the orange zest while the cranberries are boiling. But, I highly recommend juicing them before you zest them. Easy-peasy!”

Tatum plasters a fake smile to appease a very pregnant Sienna Trinh-Aveiro, although the obstetrician is pretty sure she blanked out during the pediatrician's animated retelling of the recipe.

"Orange zest," Tatum nods as she scoops a small helping of the deep red relish onto her plate. "I'll be sure to, um, remember that next time. Would you excuse me?"

With a cordial nod, Tatum saunters through the crowd of the affluent collection of party-goers. Finding solace in a quiet corner, she begins to fidget with the appetizers on her plate, paying close attention to the cranberry sauce. Perfectly cooked with thrilling flavors of tart and citrus, it was garnished with a sprig of mint.

And fucking orange zest.

It didn't come from a convenience store. It wasn't from a can--a damaged metal can that would otherwise be considered garbage. There was no need for a screwdriver let alone a hammer.

Tatum's vision suddenly blurs; quickly blinking her eyelids, she realizes her eyes are flooding with tears. Setting down the exquisite china, she quickly surveys the room, planning her escape. Politely nodding at her colleagues and hospital investors, she stops to specifically thank Caroline Bloom for a lovely evening before retrieving her coat.

"Leaving so soon, Dr. Erikson?"

She holds up her pager, toggling it in between her slender fingers. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls," she fibs.

"Of course," Caroline embraces Tatum, placing chaste kisses on her cheeks. “Make us proud--as usual,” she chuckles, quickly turning back to entertaining her guests. Tatum collects her jacket and hurries out the door to head back to her loft.

After a long warm shower, Tatum cinches her bath towel around her body before retreating to her bedroom. She grabs her phone, noting that she had not received any new messages or phone calls. She considers contacting Ethan, scrolling to his name, but she knows impromptu ethics committee meetings can take several hours. And knowing him, he will want to manage the proceedings.

She tosses her phone back onto her bed, turning to her walk-in closet. She slowly strolls by her rows of clothes, dragging her fingertips across the various fabrics and textures until she comes to his small part of her closet. She leans in, nuzzling her nose into his clothes as she breathes in the scent. Trevor. Her hands tremble as it crosses over his combat uniform, over the embroidered name Erikson. Tears fill her eyes, her heart swelling with pride as she stops to admire his green dress uniform, tinkering with the flashy buttons and awards.

Tatum grabs one of his heather gray ‘Army’ shirts, and quickly slips the oversized fabric across her body. Carelessly pulling her damp, blonde tresses through the neck of the shirt, she hugs the material close to her heart. Ready to say goodnight to the emotionally-charged day, she turns off the lights before crawling under her weighted, ruffle duvet. Relaxing into her sea of pillows, the natural moonlight illuminates the framed picture on her bedside table: a photo of her and Trevor at her white coat ceremony at Johns Hopkins. A crooked smile gently fixes to her face, remembering that day so clearly: it was the first day her family came together; it was the first day Trevor met Ethan.

As her eyes flutter close, there’s a sudden pounding on her front door. Grabbing her phone, she notices it’s after ten; but again, there were no missed calls or messages. With her heart beginning to race, she slips on a pair of her boyfriend’s sweat pants before padding quietly to the front door. As soon as she peers through the peephole, a big grin crawls across her face. With her nerves relaxing, she unlocks the door, swinging it wide open to reveal the one person that could make the day end perfectly. Tatum playfully leans against the door, placing a hand on her hip. She jokingly looks at her wrist as if she’s looking at a watch.

“What?” Ethan cheekily smiles, shrugging his shoulders. With his tie undone and the top two buttons of his oxford unbuttoned, he holds out a brown grocery bag.

Trying to hide her smile, Tatum eagerly steals the paper bag. Peeking inside, she notices instantly the content: two cups of ramen noodles and a can of cranberry sauce. She abruptly looks back up at Ethan, tears gathering in her eyes.

Ethan quickly grabs Tatum’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buries herself into his shoulder, her breath hitching in her chest. “Hey, hey--” he whispers, pressing his lips against her tousled waves. “Shhh, none of that,” he chuckles to himself, massaging intimate circles against her back. “You know it’s family tradition.”

Tatum looks up, staring deeply into Ethan’s gentle eyes. Wiping away her tears, she begins to titter, nodding in agreement. He's right.

It is tradition.

And Ethan is her family. He always will be.

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[vintageandmain]

(via Birks Silver Plate Cordial Goblets Set of 4 Primrose Plate | Etsy)

[twowk]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Rate Zodax Metal Aperitif Glasses.

[failedintsave]

🥶 for any couple you please! I'm terrible at picking ships for other people to write, lol (Gointothevvater)

[Send me an emoji and I'll write a drabble]

Picking a ship probably took longer than writing this haha. I didn't know what canon character ship you'd prefer so I tried my hand at some Ceelie x Pickles, hope you don't mind me borrowing your OC again, I adore her!

🥶- Cold

The multicolored swirl of oil skimmed the surface of gray puddles gathered in the gutter, dirty runoff washing from London's busy roadways even as the rain finally let up. Exhaust and petrichor filled the air outside the sold-out Hammersmith Odeon, but Pickles smothered the scent of either, lighting up another in a series of cigarettes and trying not to let the weather completely ruin the brand new red boots he wore. He hopped to the side, cursing as a bus pulled away from the curb, splashing filthy water onto the sidewalk next to him.

Ahead, laughter echoed off the concrete curve of the overpass as St. Cecilia rounded a corner, the sound like silver striking crystal stemware. Readjusting the hood of his sweatshirt to shield what was left of his melting hairspray, Pickles quickened his pace to catch her. He'd grabbed the jacket off the floor thinking it was his, but the length of the sleeves and the smell of perfume as he slipped it on told him otherwise.

"Tell me again why we couldn't jest get drunk in tha'hotel room? Why're ya draggin' me out in this creap?" He groused, turning sideways to dodge a man hustling past with an umbrella.

Snakes n Barrels' first global tour had taken them to a myriad of distant locales; from Tokyo to Toronto, Auckland to Amsterdam, they'd performed in every corner of the globe and burned down the house at every stop. Once, quite literally. He wasn't sure New Orleans would be hosting them again soon, but it had been one hell of a show and an even better after party. The French Quarter had certainly seen bigger disasters.

"Because," St. Cecilia called, spinning around to walk backwards so she could catch his eye. "I want a proper pint while we're here, and so should you!"

Truth be told, she always had his eye, from the first moment he'd seen her. Her honey brown gaze sparkled with amusement under shaggy, blonde bangs made slightly frizzy by the humidity. A coquettish grin curled lips painted purple, not by the late November chill, but with her favored lipstick. Pickles could almost feel their soft press on his palm, transferring the vibrant shade to his skin for the thousandth time before curtain call. It was fast becoming one of his favorite colors, second only to the lighter version that graced Ceelie's lips after he'd kissed most of it off.

She led him a few blocks further, through lingering mist and past shop fronts just beginning to adorn their windows for the Christmas season, stopping finally at a heavy wooden door. The lower half of the building was painted cream and trimmed in a deep green, the red brick of its upper story streaked with sooty marks and capped with decorative stone balusters. Square panes of lead glass flanked the door, obscuring the interior but for a warm yellow glow within. No signage named the building a pub but there was a murmur of voices and laughter beyond the walls.

"This should do." 

"Thank Christ, I'm freezin' my nuts off." Pickles tugged at the hem of his hoodie, trying to cover his partially exposed midriff. He crowded in behind her as she reached for the door handle.

Rather than open it, St. Cecilia turned and placed her back against the wood, effectively blocking the entrance and quirking one dark brow at him.

"I thought the winters were terrible cold where you're from? Shouldn't you be used to it?"

"Jest cuz it's familiar don't mean I gahtta like it." He reached past her to open the door but she caught his hand, her slim fingers remarkably warm as she held his frozen digits.

"You poor thing. Alright, a quick round, then back in time to warm up." She pressed her lips to his fingertips, a mischievous sparkle glinting in her eyes as she gave one a tiny kitten lick. "The boys should be ready for soundcheck by the time we've finished, yeah?"

Pickles grinned crookedly in return. "Oh, I dunno. Might take me a while ta' thaw out after this lil' adventure."

"Not like we haven't made them wait before." Ceelie purred, dragging him inside by the hoodie's drawstrings. Even in a blizzard, that tone would always make Pickles melt.