#sterling serving platter

[darkficlord69]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, 18+ language, death, character death, angst, sadness, not proofread

Cregan Stark was indubitably a wolf: ever since he sprang up from his mother's northern womb he had a savage attitude kept in place by his house's sterling reputation for personal integrity. But when his gaze locked onto yours, all semblance of restraint evaporated from his big muscled body like a snowflake slowly melting under the hot sun. When he met you, he felt like a starved animal ready to pounce, to hunt, to eat something so positively delicious that it would satisfy him to no end...

Despite having lived your whole pampered life on Dragonstone, under your mother's constant and loving supervision, you felt at home in the snow covered Winterfell. And when you descended from your mauve scaly beast with a wingspan bigger than the tallest watchtower in Deepwood Motte, you shivered although you were drowning in thick layers of fur and wool. That is, because you met Cregan. He looked at you with an intesity that was at odds with the iciness of the climate and you could do little but avert your gaze to avoid losing yourself in those stormy grey eyes that twinkled with desire.

"My lord, it is an honor," you curtsied clumsily due to your heavy attire but Cregan quickly put a hand on yours to help stabilize you and prevent you from falling face-first in the snow.

"The honor is all mine, my princess," he replied in a husky voice that almost brought tears to ths corners of your eyes. Whatever passed between you was a dangerous thing, hotter than fire, yet fickler than a shard of thin ice.

"I hope your journey was pleasant," he said.

"Oh, definitely, my lord of Winterfell. Now, I believe the politics and scheming can wait for the morrow, but riding Kocsaryon has made my belly rumble in hunger. A feast is in order, if it please you."

Cregan gave a curt nod and led you to the Main Hall, where a feast had already been laid out. The long wooden tables groaned under the weight of hearty soups for each heart, each dish more decadent than the last, the aromas mingling in the air like a seductive promise of indulgence.

At the center of the hall stood a massive boar, its skin crisp and golden, crackling with fat that had been painstakingly rendered over hours of slow roasting. It was stuffed with onions, apples, and a medley of herbs that filled the air with their heady scent. The juices ran clear as it was carved, pooling on the thick wooden platters beneath, where hunks of dark meat were passed around to eager hands.

Beside it, platters of venison, seasoned with juniper and garlic, had been seared to perfection, the meat tender and pink within, the crust dark and fragrant. Roasted root vegetables, earthy and sweet, nestled alongside them, their edges caramelized to a rich mahogany.

A serving girl approached Cregan to clear away a platter of untouched meat and your eyes darkened when her hair brushed against Stark's shoulder.

You stuffed yourself until your belly groaned and then you chanced a glance again at Cregan who was watching as you cleaned your fingers by putting them in your mouth and slowly sucking in a suggestive gesture that was meant as a provocative invitation. Lord Stark's eyes hardened with unmistakable lust and he rose abruptly, mumbling excuses to confused guests. He promptly grabbed your hand and led you outside.

"If you will follow me, my lady. I have something to show you."

By the time you left the warmth of the Great Keep, you were wholly intrigued by this escapade. Cregan knelt before the weirwood tree that seemed to weep blood as you joined him in prayer.

"So, are going to..." No sooner had you started to ask your question, than Cregan's lips were on yours, kissing you with a ferocious intensity that went beyond mere words. His expert tongue left a trail of saliva down the column of your neck, your jaw... He licked and sucked like a newborn wolf pup, but his groans were the howl of a fully grown member of the pack.

"Oh, gods!" you yelled, uncaring of who may hear.

He quickly disrobed you, your smallclothes thrown far, far away and then you were naked beneath his lord's piercing gaze, trembling with anticipation as heat pooled between your legs.

"Cregan, pleaaase!"

The night beneath the godswood was a symphony of passion and primal need. The ancient trees stood silent witness as you and Cregan came together, your bodies intertwining with an intensity that left you both breathless. The air was cold, biting even, but the heat in your lower stomach was enough to ward off the chill for a time.

He kissed you with a fervor that spoke of years of restraint finally unleashed. His hands, rough and calloused from a lifetime of wielding swords and axes, were surprisingly gentle as they roamed your body, tracing every curve and dip as if committing you to memory. You shivered beneath his touch, but it wasn't from the cold. It was from the raw power and the undeniable hunger in his eyes, the kind that made you feel like the only thing in the world that mattered.

As the night deepened, the cold crept closer, seeping into your bones. But you were too lost in him, too lost in the way he made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before. You clung to him, seeking warmth and comfort in the strength of his embrace, in the heat of his body pressed against yours.

But the North was unforgiving. The warmth of passion was no match for the biting cold of the northern winter. Even as Cregan held you close, his hairy body shielding you from the worst of the elements, the chill began to seep into your skin, turning your breath to fog and your lips to ice.

Cregan sensed it before you did, the way your shivers became more violent, more uncontrollable. He pulled back, his brow furrowing in concern as he looked into your eyes, now glassy with the onset of hypothermia. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the sight.

"You're freezing," he murmured, his voice rough with worry. He pulled you closer, trying to rub warmth back into your limbs, but it was too late. The cold had already taken hold, and no amount of heat from him could chase it away.

You tried to smile, tried to reassure him that you were fine, but the words caught in your throat, your lips too numb to form them. You could feel the warmth of life slipping away, could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision. But you didn't want to let go, not when you were here, in his arms, where you had always dreamed of being.

"Cregan..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "I'm sorry..."

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was happening. "No," he growled, shaking his head. "No, don't you dare leave me."

But you were already slipping away, your body going limp in his arms. The last thing you felt was the warmth of his tears on your face, the last thing you heard was the desperate, broken sound of his voice calling your name, begging you to stay.

When the dawn broke, the godswood was silent, the snow around you undisturbed save for the imprint of Cregan's body beside yours. He held you tightly, even as the life had long since fled from your body, refusing to let go, refusing to accept that you were gone.

The godswood bore witness to many things over the centuries, but the sight of the Lord of Winterfell, the fearsome wolf of the North, cradling the lifeless body of the one he loved, was something that would linger in its memory forever.

For Cregan Stark, the godswood would never again be a place of peace, but a place of sorrow, a reminder of the warmth he had once held in his arms and the cold that had stolen it away.

Guyss, this is my first fic! 🫣 Please let me know what you think so that I can improve my work 🐺🌙💫 Thanks for reading! 💝

[my-beloved-lakes]

@leveragetober

Leveragetober 2023

Prompt 8: Museum

After Sophie and Nate retire, Eliot, Hardison and Parker comes to bother them on Christmas and convince them to break into a museum, just for the fun of it. (Under the cut)

Nate sat in his and Sophie's living room watching the snow fall silently outside. Sophie sat next to him flipping through the pages of a magazine.

The Christmas tree was set up, he had his wife by his side, and a warm cup of coffee. Everything was peaceful and exactly the way it should be this Christmas Eve. And of course, there was the added bonus of knowing that Sterling wasn't going to bother him for at least a week, since he was spending his Christmas with his daughter. Nate wasn’t a fan of Christmas, but it usually meant no one would bother him.

Nate jumped when he heard a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." Sophie offered.

"Please tell me it's just carolers."

Even after he had retired, people still showed up at his door from time to time, looking for help getting even with greedy CEOs and the likes. He wasn’t exactly sure how they did it, but he guessed Hardison had something to do with it. Nate didn’t really mind. It only happened occasionally, and they were usually pretty straightforward and easy. It kept him and Sophie from getting bored in their retirement. But it was Christmas eve. He just wanted to relax with his wife.

"Surprise!" He heard Parker shout.

"Aww! How did you guys get here so fast? I thought you were in the middle of a job!" Sophie asked.

"Yeah, a job in Boston." Hardison said. "We decided to leave that detail out so that we could surprise you guys."

"Aww!" Sophie pulled Hardison into a hug, then Parker and Eliot.

Nate sighed and stood up to greet them.

It wouldn't really be Christmas without them.

"Well make yourselves at home." Nate said even though he knew he didn't need to give them permission to. They'd make themselves at home whether he wanted them to or not.

"Did we miss dinner?" Eliot asked.

"No."

"Good! Cuz I got the perfect meal planned." Eliot said, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

Everyone gathered into the dining room to be closer to Eliot as he set to work cooking dinner.

Nate listened contently as Parker and Hardison explained everything they had been up to for the past few months, Eliot occasionally throwing in his two cents from the kitchen. They seemed to be settling into their new responsibilities really well, and Nate was proud of them.

After a while Eliot brought in a couple platters of food and set them on the table.

"Alright, let's eat!" He said.

They all gathered plates and silverware, and Eliot served the food.

***

"You know what we should do?" Parker asked with a sly smile when they had all finished their food.

"Oh no! No, no, no!" Nate said. "I know that look! We're not stealing anything! It's Christmas Eve!"

"I was gonna say we should break into the Boston Museum and put Santa hats and reindeer antlers on all the statues." Parker said.

"Nooo!" Nate moaned.

He had been looking forward to a peaceful evening at home.

"Oh, come on Nate!" Sophie begged.

"You guys can, but I'm staying home."

"No, Nate. It's only fun if everyone comes!" Hardison insisted.

Nate threw his hands up in resignation. He knew he wasn't going to win this one.

***

Eliot checked over his shoulder to make sure none of the other security staff was around, then pushed his janitor cart into a room full of statues. The janitor aliases that Hardison had set up for the two of them was enough to get them inside the museum, but he still had to make sure none of the guards caught them putting hats on the statues. He didn't want to get fired on his first day of work after all… or arrested.

He pulled out a step ladder and climbed up on it to place a Christmas hat on the head of an angel statue, then glanced over at Hardison who was stringing a set of Christmas lights between the hands of another statue, making it look like the statue was decorating for Christmas. Eliot chuckled to himself as he moved on to the next statue.

Sophie climbed out of the janitor cart and started sticking Rudolph noses on the portraits.

"You killed the cameras, so they'll have no idea what happened, right?" Nate asked.

"You dare doubt me?” Hardison scoffed.

Parker lowered herself from the ceiling above one of the statues and pulled out a headband with velvet reindeer antlers on it. She put it on the statue's head then took a minute to admire her handy work.

When the team was all done decorating, Nate waited for everyone to clear the room then stood in the doorway, admiring their decorations. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture before heading for his exit. He would never admit to anyone that he had enjoyed this. That picture would remain a secret forever.

The museum staff would discover the decorations in the morning and there would probably be a news article or two out about it not long after that. Maybe a few camara crews would show up to do a story on it, but no one would ever know how it had happened. People would probably be calling it a Christmas miracle. 

Nate smiled. None of that really mattered though, because he would have this memory to share with his family for the rest of his life. It'd be their little secret.

He would never admit it, but Nate felt the warmth of Christmas spirit building up inside of him as he walked out of that museum.

[theartarium25]

Timeless Elegance: Luxury Home Decor Items to Elevate Your Living Space

Luxury home decor items are not just about extravagance but also about quality craftsmanship, exquisite materials, and timeless design. Elevate your living space with these curated selections that embody sophistication and opulence, transforming your home into a sanctuary of luxury.

1. Designer Furniture

Investing Luxury home decor furniture pieces is key to achieving a luxurious interior. Look for iconic designs crafted from premium materials such as Italian leather, solid hardwoods, or handcrafted metals. Pieces like Eames lounge chairs, Barcelona chairs, or Chesterfield sofas not only exude elegance but also offer exceptional comfort and durability. Online platforms and exclusive boutiques often showcase a variety of designer furniture collections that cater to different tastes and interior styles.

2. Artisanal Rugs and Carpets

Luxury rugs and carpets are more than just floor coverings—they are works of art that anchor your room with style and sophistication. Hand-knotted Persian rugs, Tibetan wool carpets, or silk rugs with intricate patterns and rich colors can add a sense of opulence to any space. Online galleries and specialty stores offer a wide selection of artisanal rugs, allowing you to choose pieces that complement your decor while showcasing the craftsmanship of skilled artisans.

3. Statement Lighting Fixtures

Illuminate your home with statement lighting fixtures that serve as both functional elements and artistic focal points. Crystal chandeliers, sculptural pendant lights, or minimalist designer lamps can enhance the ambiance of your living spaces. Opt for fixtures crafted from high-quality materials like Murano glass, brushed brass, or Swarovski crystals to create a luxurious atmosphere. Online retailers specializing in luxury lighting offer a range of styles from classic to contemporary, ensuring you find the perfect pieces to illuminate and elevate your home.

4. Luxurious Bedding and Linens

Transform your bedroom into a luxurious retreat with high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, silk duvet covers, and plush velvet bedspreads. Luxury bedding sets not only provide unparalleled comfort but also elevate the aesthetic appeal of your bedroom. Look for renowned brands known for their craftsmanship and attention to detail. Online retailers often offer a curated selection of luxury linens in a variety of colors and textures, allowing you to create a sumptuous sanctuary for rest and relaxation.

5. Fine Art and Sculptures

Integrate fine art and sculptures into your decor to add a sense of sophistication and cultural richness. Original paintings, limited edition prints, or bespoke sculptures by renowned artists can become focal points that reflect your personal taste and style. Online art galleries and auction houses provide access to a diverse range of artworks, allowing you to curate a collection that resonates with your aesthetic sensibilities and enhances the luxury of your living space.

6. Antique and Collectible Decor

Incorporate antique furniture, vintage collectibles, or rare artifacts into your home decor to imbue it with a sense of history and exclusivity. Pieces such as antique French armoires, Ming dynasty porcelain vases, or Art Deco sculptures add a unique charm and timeless appeal to your interiors. Online auctions and specialty antique dealers offer a curated selection of rare and collectible items, making it possible to acquire treasures that enhance the luxury and uniqueness of your home.

7. Designer Tableware and Serveware

Elevate your dining experience with designer tableware and serveware crafted from fine materials such as bone china, sterling silver, or hand-blown glass. Luxury dinnerware sets, crystal glassware, and artisanal serving platters not only enhance your table settings but also reflect your refined taste and hospitality. Online luxury retailers often feature exclusive collections from renowned designers, allowing you to create memorable dining experiences with exquisite tableware that exudes elegance and sophistication.

8. Customized Home Accessories

Personalize your living space with customized home accessories that showcase your individuality and discerning taste. From bespoke throw pillows and embroidered linens to monogrammed bath towels and handcrafted decorative objects, customization adds a personal touch of luxury to your decor. Online platforms and specialty boutiques offer bespoke services where you can collaborate with artisans and designers to create one-of-a-kind pieces that elevate the luxury and uniqueness of your home.

9. Luxury Home Fragrances

Enhance the ambiance of your home with luxurious fragrances that evoke sophistication and tranquility. Choose from scented candles, reed diffusers, or room sprays crafted by renowned perfumers using high-quality ingredients. Luxury home fragrance brands offer a range of signature scents—from floral and citrusy to woody and oriental—that transform your living spaces into sensory retreats. Online retailers provide access to exclusive collections, allowing you to select fragrances that complement your interior decor and personal style.

10. Spa-Inspired Bath Essentials

Create a spa-like retreat in your bathroom with luxury bath essentials that pamper the senses and elevate your daily routine. Invest in plush bath towels, organic cotton bathrobes, and designer bath accessories crafted from fine materials like Turkish cotton or bamboo fibers. Online luxury retailers offer curated collections of spa-inspired bath essentials, allowing you to indulge in comfort and style while transforming your bathroom into a sanctuary of relaxation and rejuvenation.

Conclusion

Embrace the allure of luxury home decor items to create an environment that exudes sophistication, elegance, and comfort. Whether you're investing in designer furniture, artisanal rugs, fine art, or personalized accessories, each piece contributes to elevating the aesthetic appeal and ambiance of your living space. Online shopping provides unparalleled access to a diverse range of luxury home decor items, making it easier than ever to curate a home that reflects your refined taste and enhances your lifestyle. Choose wisely, and transform your home into a haven of timeless elegance and luxurious comfort.

[rustbeltjessie]

Some favorites from my most recent visit to the Racine Art Museum (March 14).

Patti Warashina: "Crossroads from the Mile Post Queen Series," 2001. Glazed stoneware on metal stand.

Louis Mendez: "Sea World Platter," ca. 1998-2005. Glazed porcelain.

Judith Hoyt: "Untitled (Head)," ca. 1985-200. Concrete on found pottery shard. "Untitled (Single Head)," 1997. Found metal, paint, and wood. "Untitled (Head)," ca. 1985-2000. Concrete on found pottery shard. "Untitled," 1993. Found metal and paint.

Robert W. Ebendorf: "Serving J.C.," 1994. Found silver plate, sterling silver, tin, plastic, brass, and found objects.

Peter Voulkos: "Untitled," 1979. Color lithograph, computer to plate.

Dennis Lee Mitchell: "Westwater," 2023. Smoke on paper.

Margaret Ponce Israel: "Enfantines," 1979. Burlap, plaster, acrylic paint, paper, linen, and dyed cotton thread.

Janice Lowry: "Bird Keeper," 2006. Wood, cotton thread, paint, and found objects.

Ann Wolff: "Anna Anme (Anna Breastfeeding)," 1987. Color aquatint and etching, edition 56/60.

Barbara Brandel: "1000 Year Diary," 1997. Dyed cotton, silk, and wool.

[rakiyablackfilm]

American Fiction

In "American Fiction," Cord Jefferson's directorial debut is a clever meta-commentary. The film, starring Jeffrey Wright in a role that feels tailor-made for his subtle brilliance, that often breaks the fourth wall.

Wright plays Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, a frustrated academic and novelist who's sick of being told his work isn't "Black enough" for the market. When he sarcastically writes a stereotypical "urban" novel under a pseudonym, the manuscript becomes an overnight sensation, forcing him to confront the absurd expectations placed on Black creators in America. The irony is delicious: Monk's protest against stereotypes becomes the very thing he despises, yet brings him the success he's always wanted.

The film's genius lies in its layered approach to satire. Jefferson adapts Percival Everett's novel "Erasure" with a surgeon's precision, cutting deep into the contemporary discourse around authenticity, representation, and the commodification of Black trauma. It's like watching a chess master play against themselves – every move is calculated, yet the outcome remains unpredictable.

What makes "American Fiction" particularly relevant is its timing. In an era where conversations about diversity and representation in media are at the forefront, the film asks uncomfortable questions: Who gets to tell Black stories? What makes a story "authentically" Black? The answers aren't served on a silver platter – instead, they're buried in the complexity of Monk's character and the increasingly absurd situations he finds himself in.

Jefferson's direction shines in how he balances the film's multiple tones. One moment you're laughing at the ridiculousness of the literary world's racial expectations, the next you're deep in Monk's personal struggles with his family, including a mother battling dementia (played masterfully by Leslie Uggams) and his coming-to-terms with his brother's sexuality. These personal threads aren't just subplot filler – they're integral to understanding Monk's relationship with authenticity and identity.

The technical aspects of the film deserve special mention. The way Jefferson frames Wright in academic settings versus his family moments versus his alter-ego appearances creates subtle visual commentary on code-switching and performance. The score, alternating between classical music and contemporary beats, perfectly underlines the cultural tug-of-war at the film's heart.

Wright's performance is a masterclass in controlled chaos. His Monk is simultaneously over it all and deeply invested, maintaining a facade of academic detachment while internally screaming at the absurdity around him. The supporting cast, including Issa Rae as a successful author of "authentic" Black literature and Sterling K. Brown as Monk's brother, adds layers of complexity to the conversation about Black identity and success.

Where the film truly excels is in its refusal to provide easy answers. It would have been simple to make this a straightforward critique of the publishing industry's racial politics. Instead, it forces us to grapple with our own complicity in these systems. Do we, the audience, secretly crave the very stereotypes Monk is fighting against? The film suggests that the truth lies somewhere in the uncomfortable space between authenticity and performance.

If there's any criticism to be made, it might be that the film occasionally gets too caught up in its own cleverness. Some viewers might find the meta aspects a bit heavy-handed. However, this feels less like a flaw and more like a deliberate choice – after all, subtlety isn't always the best tool for dissecting systemic issues.

"American Fiction" is more than just a satire of the publishing industry or a commentary on Black authenticity – it's a mirror reflecting our own expectations and biases back at us. It's the kind of film that starts conversations and arguments, the kind that makes you laugh until you realize what you're laughing at. In an age where discussions about representation often feel like walking through a minefield, Jefferson's film provides a map – not to safety, but to better, more nuanced questions.

[yuvan123]

Fashion Jewellery: What are some interesting eCommerce startups?

Innovative eCommerce Startups Redefining Fashion Jewellery

When it comes to fashion jewellery, eCommerce startups are taking the industry by storm with their innovative designs and affordable prices. In the world of fashion jewellery, there are a few brands that stand out for their unique designs, and two such startups are jewellery designed by Nikita and Indian Artificial Jewellery.

Noori By Nikita is startups which offers a unique selection and of stylish jewellery collection pieces of jewellery that are that perfect for every type of the modern woman fashion. Their brand's main focus is unique designs and Fashion affordable on Jewellery.  Closer pieces look of at jewellery some that of boasts these of emerging the brands.

Jewellery designed by Nikita is an India-based eCommerce startup that creates jewellery pieces that are inspired by nature. This eCommerce store has an array of unique and elegant jewellery pieces that are designed to add charm and personality to your wardrobe. Each piece is crafted with utmost care and can be a perfect gift Fashion for Jewellery.

Fashion jewellery has been around for centuries. A lot of people have been collecting jewellery since time immemorial. However, with the advent of eCommerce, jewellery shopping has become even more convenient. Here are some interesting eCommerce startups that you should watch out for:

Noori By Nikita’s fashion jewellery: Noori By Nikita is India's best one-stop- store for all your jewellery needs. Based in Delhi NCR, they provide an exquisite range of imitation and semi-precious jewellery designed by highly talented team of designers in India, with worldwide shipping facility. The multiplicity of jewellery that they offer ranges from minimalistic office wear collections to heavy bridal jewellery collection. Be it festive wear, wedding wear or casual jewellery, they serve you on platter a pot-pourri of all sorts of ethnic and western ornaments! They are focused to keep our clients updated with the latest fashion jewellery trends. Nikita's designs are inspired by her travels, and the pieces reflect her love for nature and culture.

2. Mejuri: It is an online direct-to-consumer brand that focuses on minimalistic and fine jewellery. They offer a curated selection of high-quality pieces made with precious metals and gemstones. It emphasizes ethical sourcing and affordable luxury. They offer a wide range of earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, and personalized jewellery. Mejuri places an emphasis on sustainability and transparency in their supply chain.

3. Adina’s Jewels: Adina’s Jewels was founded by Adina Kamaitachi in 2012. This eCommerce startup provides affordable and fashionable jewellery. Adina's jewellery pieces are made with precious metals and are adorned with beautiful gemstones. The brand has gained popularity, and its pieces are now worn by celebrities and influencers around the world.

4. Miss Oma - Miss Oma: It is a British jewellery brand that was founded by Marisa Hordern in 2008. The brand offers affordable, high-quality jewellery that suits every taste and style. Their pieces are perfect for everyday wear, and they also have a range of statement jewellery that is ideal for special occasions.

5. Bauble Bar:  Bauble Bar, it is an eCommerce startup that offers trendy and affordable jewellery. The brand was founded by Amy Jain and Daniella Yacobovsky in 2011. Bauble Bar has collaborated with fashion magazines and designers, making their fashion-forward accessories easily accessible to a wider audience. They are known for their wide variety of statement necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings.

6. AUrate: It is a jewellery brand that offers a range of minimalist and timeless pieces. They are committed to using sustainable materials and ethical practices. Its collection includes earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets made with 14k gold, sterling silver, and diamonds.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, there has been a significant rise in the jewellery sector, and it's always exciting to discover new eCommerce startups that are designing exciting pieces. If you're looking for jewellery that is affordable, trendy, and unique, then head over to Noori By Nikita, Neon Boehme, Adina’s Jewels, Bauble Bar, and Miss Oma.  So, the next time you're on the hunt for new jewellery, consider these eCommerce startups, and see what they have to offer. Happy shopping!

[logintechscom]

What Are Kitchen Ceramics?

What Are Kitchen Ceramics?

Ceramics are made of clay and mixed with other materials. These are then shaped and fired. The final product is then coated with glazes. The ceramics can be either translucent or opaque. A variety of shapes, sizes and colors can be used. This is a versatile material that is ideal for statement pieces.

The two main types of ceramics are porcelain and stoneware. Porcelain is more durable than stoneware. It is also more expensive. However, the two are manufactured using similar techniques. Both are scratch resistant and durable. The difference between the two is only subtle.

If you are looking for a piece that can be used for cooking and serving, you should consider using porcelain. It is more durable, stronger, and more decorative than stoneware. It is usually white or off-white in color. You can find more vibrant colors in porcelain. If you prefer a more subdued look, try stoneware.

You can also find handmade kitchen ceramics, which are perfect for adding a touch of style to your home. Some of these are made in small workshops. Others are hand-crafted by artisans. The ceramics are food-safe, dishwasher-safe, and lead-free. These types of ceramics are ideal for gifts and will make an excellent addition to any dinner table.

If you are interested in finding a more inexpensive option, you can check out the kitchen ceramics offered at 1stDibs. This company sells a range of kitchen ceramics, many of which are created by mid-century modern designers. Some of the pieces available include sterling silver kitchenware and pottery from Art Deco designers. Some of the more modern pieces are created by Kati Von Lehman, a Portland, Oregon-based maker. Several of the products are microwave safe and can be purchased for under $15.

If you are looking for a gift for a special someone, you might consider giving them an elegant set of mugs. The handmade mugs are not only beautiful, they are also dishwasher safe. You can find some beautiful designs at RossLab, an Etsy store.

If you are a foodie, you may want to consider purchasing some coffee drippers. These are a welcome departure from plastic coffee drippers. These will be a unique gift that will be useful for years to come.

If you are looking for something a bit different, you might want to purchase one of the beautiful, hand-crafted studio pottery coffee mugs. These are perfect for expressing your own personal style, while still being functional. You can find a number of unique designs and colors, from the simple latte mug to the more dramatic speckled platter. The prices vary, depending on the size and other attributes. Click here to grasp additional details visit logintechs.com

If you are looking for a stylish way to add a little spice to your home, you can always buy a modernist teapot. You can also find an eclectic collection of handcrafted dinnerware at The Shack. They have a prix fixe menu that includes a choice of dishes crafted from ceramics. You can also find a wide selection of antique kitchen ceramics at 1stDibs.

[furnituremoving-medina]

Styles and Types of Kitchen Ceramics

Kitchen ceramics are available in a range of styles. From Art Deco pieces to mid-century designs, you can find the perfect fit for your kitchen. You can also find a variety of materials for these pieces, including metal and sterling silver. In addition, you can opt for items with a more modern or minimalist aesthetic.

If you want to add some spice to your dinner table, consider some of these stylish pieces. If you're looking for a unique gift, try a hand-thrown mug. Another option is a set of modernist teapots. If you prefer more subdued styles, you can choose a more organic-looking stoneware dish. These are more affordable, but they're durable enough to last for years.

If you love the look of a contemporary tablescape, you may want to invest in some ceramic plates. For example, you can find some beautifully glazed ones at Henry Street Studio. These are handmade by a mother-daughter team in Brooklyn. They are available in a wide range of colors and finishes, such as black and white. You can even find a pitcher in ash grey and graphite glaze. You can also buy a round bowl and a shallow serving dish.

While both ceramic and porcelain cookware are resistant to heat, you should know the differences. You might be surprised to learn that ceramic is made from lighter clay, while porcelain is made from a stronger type of clay. During the manufacturing process, the raw materials are crushed into different units. The resulting product is then molded using different molding techniques. The difference in temperature is one of the major factors in hardening.

While both types are strong, porcelain is more durable and decorative. It is a great choice for baking and serving. Compared to ceramic, it can also be more expensive. It is less porous, which is ideal for those who don't want to be prone to food contamination. It is often covered in a glaze to protect it from scratches.

Some popular kitchen ceramics include plates, platters, and even watches. You can even find a butter dish, a French butter crock, and a kitchen utensil holder. You can also purchase dishes with beautiful details such as a sloping edge and a pinched-edge. These are perfect for serving stray fruit or a bulb of garlic.

For some, it can be challenging to choose between stoneware and porcelain. Both are durable and heat-resistant, but they're more expensive than ceramic. Depending on the size of your kitchen and your needs, you can purchase ceramic and porcelain kitchenware for as little as $15 or as much as $958. The price varies by the time period and other attributes. You can even custom-order pieces. Click here to grasp additional details visit furnituremoving-medina.com

Some manufacturers, such as Material Kitchen, offer a range of dinnerware and cutting boards that are made from recycled plastic. Their ceramic pieces are designed in partnership with Korean ceramics studio Soilbaker. The dinnerware is designed in a range of shapes, sizes, and colors, and there's a full and half plate, as well as a shallow bowl. These pieces are also dishwasher safe.

[estate-sterling]

Direct from a Private Chateau near Paris, A Magnificent 10pc Set of 19th Century 950 Sterling Silver Louis XVI Serving Platters by the World's Premier French Silversmith Jean-Baptiste Odiot, An Ultra Luxurious Addition to any Stately Home and Includes 7 Anti-Tarnish Wraps for Easy Storage, Absolutely Magnificent, circa late 1880s.  The set includes 4 round serving platters, 2 oval serving platters, 1 square serving dish and a covered 3pc. vegetable server with sterling silver interior; and each piece has been professionally restored to near new condition.

[girlactionfigure]

Alone With The Dishes

[I wrote the first draft of this back in 2004 to describe the mental process I go through at this time of year.]

One gets to do a fair amount of thinking late at night, alone with the dishes.  To be clear, my wife does her fair share of the dishes.  But for the big jobs - particularly after dinner parties, large Shabbat/holiday meals, etc. - I’m the one left surveying the wreckage and not knowing exactly where to begin.

So it is (for me) with the approach of Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur.

For me, looking back at the year is like surveying the aftermath of a wild dinner party; one where invitations were extended to far more people than the house could comfortably accommodate… the kind of rollicking soirée that is talked about and savored (and paid for), for months.

But every such a party comes at a cost.

Rosh Hashanah (for me) is roughly analogous to standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room looking aghast at the damage.

What was I thinking?!

Every horizontal surface is stacked high with dirty glasses and dishes.

Empty bottles of Merlot, Syrah and Chardonnay stand abandoned beside half-empty bottles of bourbon and scotch.

The sinks overflow with greasy dishes, and the dessert service (dishes, tea cups and saucers), seem evenly distributed between the diningroom table and the various kitchen counters.

Soiled linen napkins sit balled on (and under), chairs.  And glasses of every description seem to wink at me from wherever the wandering conversationalists happen to have abandoned them.

On Rosh Hashanah I stand slumped in that imaginary doorway trying to make the insurmountable seem, well, surmountable; trying to place the soiled contents of my slovenly year into some kind of framework where things can be addressed in an orderly fashion.

Anyone who has ever been left to clean up after a big party understands the daunting nature of the task. At first glance it seems the house will never be clean again, so why bother?!.

But then you pick up that first wine glass (with the half-moon of lipstick on the rim), and place it in such a way as to demonstrate to the long departed guests and sleeping house that this spot on the sideboard is where the crystal will be gathered.

And so Rosh Hashanah begins (for me)… nothing getting washed just yet; just making the insurmountable seem surmountable.

Several circuits of the house bring more dirty wine, whiskey, and water glasses than I ever knew we owned, to join that first one there on the counter.

Then, after emptying the sinks of their precariously piled contents, I draw a basin of hot soapy water.

As the basin fills, I designate other places for dishes and for cups and for saucers - each to each - all according to size. Warming to the familiar task, while I work I take comfort in the muffled sound of the water under its foamy cloak… almost like a prayer.

And so Rosh Hashanah continues (for me).  Nothing getting washed just yet… just making the insurmountable seem surmountable.

Next the sterling flatware and serving pieces are gathered into a pot full of soapy water, and the linen napkins are bundled with the tablecloth into the hamper in the laundry room.

With the leftovers wrapped and put safely into the refrigerator, and the trash bundled to the bin, the place is starting to look more sane… not one iota cleaner, mind you... but some semblance of order has begun to emerge from the chaos.

Now pots and pans of every shape and size are filled with hot soapy water and placed on the stove and sideboard to soak. Measuring cups and carving knives are placed beside legions of serving platters. Spices are returned to their racks, and canisters of flour and sugar are placed back on their shelves; each gestures creating a bit of space… and again, I am comforted by the suggestion of emerging order.

And so Rosh Hashanah ends (for me)… nothing having been washed just yet… but the insurmountable finally beginning to seem surmountable.

If I've done that much, it seems less daunting to stand in the spiritual doorway between Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur… balanced on the threshold between what has happened... and the tantalizing suggestion of more good things that might still lie ahead.

I haven’t yet washed a thing, although some of the bigger problems have been identified and been placed in to soak. The glasses all sit with their fellows and the dishes are stacked according to shape and size. Everything still bears the smudges and smears of too much fun… too much indulgence. But now, as I look around, the task seems somehow more manageable… surmountable.

As I stand listening to the soft ahhhhhhhhhh of the soap bubbles as they settle in the sink, I am almost ready for Yom Kippur. I have a clearer idea of what has to be washed… and I know (hope) that after the necessary work, I will find myself at the end of the process with sparkling china… lovingly polished sterling… and immaculate crystal.  And the house  - and my life - will be looking - and feeling - ready for a fresh beginning.

May we all be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

Treppenwitz

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 1 ~The Birthday Party~

James Fraser peered through his front windshield into the sunlight and wished he was back in his apartment in Edinburgh. If his older sister Jenny hadn't called earlier to drag him out of his blissful, mind-numbing slumber and reminded him of his nephew's birthday, he would have been still in bed. Instead of his usual routine of sleeping until past midday, eating junk food and washing it down with beer, playing Xbox and going back to sleep, he'd found himself putting on some fresh clothes and driving to Lallybroch. His sudden motivation had more to do with his nephew, wee Jamie. He wouldn't miss his birthday for the world, come rain or shine. Unfortunately, sunshine and children's parties seldom bode well for his mood while nursing a massive hangover.

It had been three months since he was last in Lallybroch - three months of avoiding his family and dodging questions about his future. He knew he'd hit his limit for grieving the untimely death of his career and feeling sorry for himself. It was time to face the world of adulting, and it was time for a change.  But what change? A job in the Fraser distillery?  It was his legacy and fallback plan, after all.

But he didn't need the money, and his brother-in-law, Ian Murray, was more than capable of overseeing its running. He considered going away to take an extended sabbatical and figure out what he wanted to do with life.

Not too long ago, he had been the nation's sports phenomenon until his sterling rugby career was prematurely cut short by a neck injury sustained during a Six Nations game against France. Later, it was discovered that he had a triple fracture of the vertebrae. Although he avoided any serious nerve damage and had worked with the best therapist in the country in an attempt to get back on the field, he'd been advised by his doctor and friend, Joe Abernathy to retire.

See it this way - you could have ended up in a wheelchair. Count your blessings, Jamie. You're still young, you have a fat bank account from your time in rugby and sponsorships, and the future is full of possibilities. How about going back to your roots? Like your family's distillery?

Jamie pushed himself out of his black BMW SUV with an annoyed grunt and grabbed the toy bicycle from the back seat of the car. He could hear the loud, shrill screams of children and smell burger meat grilling on the BBQ. Tugging on the collar of his T-shirt, he grimaced at the perspiration running down his back. It was a warm day, and already a headache was starting to grow. From his vantage point, he could see the flowers in the front of the manor house in full bloom and the path leading to the rear garden where the party was being held. Colourful birthday buntings were hung, and balloons decorated posts and hedges. Whether he wanted to be surrounded by people at that moment or not, coming home always hit him with a sense of nostalgia for a time when life was less complicated.

Tamping down the sudden urge to turn around and walk away, he thought of his wee nephew and kept moving. He wondered what kind of reception he would receive now that his identity had been stripped away. He'd always been a rugby player and the game ran in his veins. However, it appeared that the end of his career seemed to have cast a shadow over his every interaction. Ever since he retired, the topic of rugby had been delicately avoided anywhere he went. He thought if someone asked him about the weather or complimented on how good he looks one more time, he was going to implode.

Is this how it's going to be from now on? Pretending as though ten years of his rugby career never happened? What was the point of all the hard work then?

Jamie came to a stop when he reached the back of the house and took in the scene before him. A few adults were clustered around the makeshift buffet, and some congregated around the BBQ. There were probably around twenty children surrounding an entertainer who was dressed as a cartoon character from Paw Patrol.   Conscious of his damp shirt sticking to him, he felt sorry for whoever was in the mascot outfit on this sweltering day. Somehow it made the state of his mood, and the complexity of his life seemed insignificant compared to the person earning a living dressed as a dog. Disgusted with his wallowing and despondency, he pulled himself together and took in a huge fortifying breath and braced himself.

"Uncle Jamie! Uncle Jamie! Ye're here!"

Jamie's gaze landed on the small figure hurtling towards him, hands flapping in the air. Putting the toy bike on the ground, he crouched down and grinned, opening his arms to catch his nephew. His lousy mood and discomfort dissipated all at once. " A chuilein ," he breathed, gripping the boy's small frame and lifting him in the air. He smelled of lollies, vanilla buttercream and baby sweat.

Wee Jamie squealed with delight as he was spun around. "I knew ye'd come, uncle! Ma said ye have lots and lots to do." As soon as he was released, he eyed the shiny red bike and let out a gasp. "Is that my pressie, uncle?"

He laughed. "Aye, that it is. Want to try it?"

"Ma! Look what I got from uncle Jamie!" his namesake shouted at the top of his lungs as he excitedly got on the bike. 

Jamie watched his nephew pedal towards his mother to show off his latest acquisition. 

Jenny turned, smiled and then she was coming towards him.

"Aah, the prodigal son is back home." Her face was flushed with heat, and her expression showed relief. He had been expecting reproof or anything of that sort. But his sister seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Guilt prickled his nerves. "Jenny ...can we talk?"

"Not now lad. We have plenty of time for that later. I'm just glad ye could make it." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and stood back to get a better look at him, a platter dangling in one hand. "I need to get more buns in the kitchen. Can ye sort out the lass in the mascot costume for me? My purse is upstairs," she explained, jerking a thumb towards the children's entertainer.

"Aye, of course, I'll do that." There was a squeeze in his chest at the prospect of facing his whole family and explaining his disappearance. He knew it had to be done, and it was only a matter of time.  

..........

What have I gotten myself into? Argh, Geillis you owe me big time! 

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp rolled on her back in the grass, gasping for air as half a dozen five-year-olds piled on top of her. The impact of hyper and sugar-high children nearly dislodged her mask. She wished she was dressed as a clown or some other cartoon character instead, and one that didn't require her to put on such a weighty headgear. Alas, the birthday boy was a Paw Patrol fan.

Under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed the company of children, but she felt like dying from heat and exhaustion. Sweat trickled down the nape of her neck, and the fusty smell of her mascot headgear was making her nauseous. Without looking at the mirror, she knew her hair was an untamed mass of frizz thanks to the humidity.

Surprisingly, she hadn't collapsed from fatigue after her back to back shift at the hospital. She had been up all night when she was called into trauma surgery during an emergency. Despite having very little sleep and her body crying out for a much-needed rest, she couldn't back out on her promise to help her best friend, Geillis. 

Geillis had just started her own business in children's party entertainment. The venture was still at its early stages, and because she was double-booked that day and didn't have enough money yet to hire extra staff, she had pleaded to help her do the Paw Patrol gig in Lallybroch. 

How could she say no? Claire was already guilt-ridden for the many times she had cancelled on their night outs. These days her life revolved around her job at the hospital, planning her wedding and Frank. It was the least she could do for her neglected friend and social life.

"Who's hungry?" a voice shouted from the designated BBQ area. "Burgers, hotdogs and chips are ready!"

Instantly she was relieved from the weight of tiny bodies holding her down. Sitting up, she adjusted her mask as the children abandoned her for food.

"Um, Geillis?" She looked up. It was Jenny Fraser, the mother of the birthday boy. Claire hadn't bothered correcting her and elaborating that she was a stand-in for her friend. After all, this was just one-off and favour for Geillis.

"Yes?"

"Listen, the other children's entertainer is here already, and the bairns are eating. I believe yer two hours are up. D'ye mind collecting yer fees from my brother? He's just arrived and..." Jenny shrugged, looking down at the empty platter she was holding. "...as ye can see my hands are full at the moment."

She stood up, and through the eyeholes of the dog mask, she glanced at the newcomer. 

Aah, bloody hell, it's James Fraser. The Highland's homegrown hero is back.  She wondered how she failed to make the connection. She was in Lallybroch, the childhood home of Scotland's rugby best and finest centre.

"Ah, of course, I don't mind."

Jenny gave her a grateful look and smiled. "And thank ye. I ken it's nae job for the faint-hearted keeping the wee bairns entertained especially on a hot day like this. Ye must be shattered. Not to worry, though, I promise to give a good review online for yer new business."

She bobbed her big doggie head and watched Jenny turn and approach her brother before disappearing into the house. 

After all these years, the sight of James Fraser could still make her heart kick into a gallop and the moisture in her mouth dry right up. What is it about this man that turned her into a lovesick teenager just by looking at him?

Easy now, Beauchamp. You're as good as married. Remember Frank?  The weight of the three-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger served as a reminder.  Think Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank!   But her head refused to obey, and she continued to stare.

The first and only time she exchanged words with James Fraser, he was half-naked in the men's locker room being treated for a hamstring injury during a game. Her friend, Joe Abernathy, was a Tournament Medical Manager for the team, and through him, she had been there to assist for her own selfish reason - to see a live rugby match, up-close. It hadn't been difficult for Joe to get her in since she was an intern from the Royal Infirmary Hospital, and was more than qualified to assist. 

She remembered only too well when she came face to face with the famous rugby player. He had been cocky as sin when she was caught staring awestruck instead of preparing the ice pack for his thigh. How could she not stare? Given his considerable height and athletic frame, he was one fine specimen of a man, gorgeous and bursting with character. 

"Like what ye see, love?" he asked in amusement, flexing his pecs to tease her.

Mortified at being called out, she felt the heat creep up her neck. Not one to be intimidated by the display of cheek, she swallowed her embarrassment and tilted her chin at him. "To be honest, I've seen better. Robbie Henshaw is more my type," she retorted, referring to another rugby player.

A ruddy eyebrow shot up. "A sassenach that fancies an Irish charm! Weel, that's funny. I had a feeling ye like looking at my arse."

Ooh, the arrogance!  "Sorry to give you the wrong impression Mr Fraser but, I thought I was looking at your face." Joe's snort and Jamie's frown sent her backing away to get the ice before he could respond. But by the time she returned, he was already surrounded by his manager and other paramedical crew, her presence and their exchange soon to be forgotten. It didn't come as a surprise since, in the grand scheme of things, she was just one of a myriad of faces he came across daily.

Later on, Joe teased her regarding the chaffing rejoinder she had launched at Jamie. "You should have seen his face after that comeback you did back there?"

"Sorry?"

"Come on, LJ ...stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw sparks flying." LJ stood for Lady Jane, a nickname Joe had given her during her first year of internship at the Royal Infirmary Hospital. It all began when their mutual friends made fun of her voice, and posh English accent, jokingly pointing out that she sounded like she just had tea with the queen. The moniker remained ever since.

"Sparks? You must have mistaken it for my short fuse firing off."

Joe boomed with laughter as he walked away. "You definitely like the man ...no use denying it. Your mouth may be saying one thing, but your face tells another story."

"I most certainly do not!" 

"Oh, and LJ?" Joe paused and turned around, ignoring her vehement denial.

"Yeah?"

"Don't believe everything you read in the newspaper about Jamie. Most are just tabloid nonsense."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Yes, it's true she had a crush on James Fraser and had religiously followed his career. But her infatuation was just that and nothing more, even though she was often teased by her colleagues in her early years of internship. She was realistic enough to admit he was way out of her league, especially when he had been photographed and linked to high profile women in the past and fawned over by over-eager fans. After the locker room incident, she crossed path with James Fraser a couple more times, and there was never any hint of recognition on his part. She simply put it down to her baseball cap concealing most of her face and her refusal to engage, in case the embarrassing episode of her ogling at him was brought up.

Over a year and a half ago, she'd watched him score try after try for the national team during the World Cup, along with everyone in the local pub she frequented. There had never been a doubt he was destined to become one of the all-time greats in the rugby world. But no one had seen the injury coming, especially Jamie. Claire could still remember the heartbreak in his eyes when he announced his retirement on live TV at the age of twenty-eight, despite the light-hearted joke about having more time to practice his golf swings. And just like that, he disappeared from the media circuit. 

After a while, rumours started to spread that he had gone off on a self-destructive bender. Joe Abernathy had confirmed the stories were true and he had tried to reach out to him, and so had the local community and his own family. Instead of being coaxed out into the light, James Fraser hid in his apartment, refusing to answer calls and emails. She thought what a waste if he ended up as a drunken slob as she'd never known him to be anything but a fiercely confident man even to a fault. Although she was a nobody to James Fraser, she had urged Joe multiple times to keep trying to reach out. Unfortunately, he didn't want the help and soon, even his staunchest fans began to lose interest. Except, maybe her.

Making her way towards him, she watched with interest as James Fraser smiled at his nephew whizzing about on his new toy bike. Russet coloured hair curled unruly over his brow and brushed the nape of his neck. He looked rather pale, and it was the first time she'd seen him with a beard. The uneven state of it told her the facial hair was a product of self-neglect rather than a style change. Her gaze dipped lower. With his feet braced apart, arms folded across his chest and at least his six-four height, he towered with an impressive bearing. Clad in faded black jeans that hung low on his hips and a white t-shirt that stretched over his muscular build, he looked like a modern Highland warrior.

"Hi there." 

Claire's thought bubble burst, and she quickly reeled in her dwindling focus and pulled it higher until she met his eyes. A pair of pale ice blue with piercing intensity momentarily froze her in place.  Right! What was it again I'm supposed to do? Oh yeah, collect the money, and get the hell out of here. Piece of cake.  "Hi." 

He gave her a forced smile as he fumbled at the back of his jean's pocket. "Ye've come to collect yer money. How much does my sister owe ye?" 

"That'll be seventy quid, please. And um, good to see you out and about, Mr Fraser."

He stopped and squinted at her as if attempting to see through her doggie disguise. "Ah, a sassenach!"

"Yes, I've been reminded often enough."

There was a moment of silence.

Puffing his cheeks, he dragged a hand through his hair and rapidly let out a lungful of air. "Christ, I didn't mean it that way. And please call me Jamie. Everyone else does. And nae need to be so formal!"

She nodded her big head. "Alright ...Jamie, it is then. And don't worry. I didn't take offence. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

He was about to pull a note out of his wallet, but he stopped. As if he was in search of the right words to say. "Ye have a beautiful voice. What's the word ...aye, husky. Kinda like a bedroom voice."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she searched his face. It seemed he was genuinely just attempting small talk. "Thank you."

"Would ye like a drink before ye go? It's a hot day. Ye must be parched."

"Ah, no, I'm quite alright. But thanks."

"Ye have a name?" He drew out a hundred-pound note from his wallet, pinching it between his fingers.

"Call me Chase. I'm one of the Paw Patrols." When he laughed out loud, she was grateful for the mask that hid her unexpected smile. 

"Weel, Chase I think ye sound bonnie." He took a careful step forward to peek through the eyehole. "Ye bonnie under there, Chase?"

Oh no, you don't!  She took two steps back.  This is getting bloody ridiculous.  In as much as Claire was enjoying the harmless blather with the handsome Scot, she knew she was running out of time. She had a couple of hours of nap to take, shower, and meet Frank for a dinner date. For the most part, he was affecting her in ways that no other man had made her feel. Including Frank. "I really need to go," she said hoarsely.

"Right. Just one request before ye go. I'll give ye this ..." He waved the hundred-pound note in front of her. "...and ye can keep the change if ye let me see yer face."

Claire felt a stab of exasperation.  Why does it matter what I look like?  She was exhausted, hot and bothered and all she wanted right there and then was to get out of the stuffy costume. "Why do you need to see my face?"

Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "What I meant ..."

She didn't let him finish. "What if you don't like what you see? Do I have to give the change back? Don't you have enough girls fawning over you?"

His shame morphed into annoyance and then into smug. "Careful, Sassenach, ye're starting to sound a little jealous to me."

Ooh, he's back to his usual cocky self.  "Wot? Me? Jealous?" she fumed almost sputtering. 

"Aye, jealous." He looked like he enjoyed making her feel uncomfortable as a corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

A cloud above her head darkened, lightning threatening to shoot at all sides. She knew it was the heat and exhaustion that was making her cranky and tried to take calming breaths. "You're presumptuous and rude."

"And ye're annoyed because I can see that the idea of girls fawning me irks ye."

That's it, I've had enough of this palaver.

Claire rolled her lips inward to plump them, then reached up and removed her mask. Gratification coursed through her when his jaw went slack, and his blue eyes turned a deeper shade.  That's right matey, I am not at all that bad!  As she took a step forward, he straightened his posture, a groan escaping from his throat. He saw the intention in her eyes and knew what was coming.

"Jealous, you say?" she hissed. Remembering the embarrassment Jamie had caused her during their initial meeting, she shoved him against the wall of the house, not caring if anyone was watching the spectacle she was creating. Surging up on her toes, she brought her face up close to his, their noses almost touching. "That's right, darling, I would rock your world."

Ah, what the heck ...I'm getting married soon, I might as well.  Not giving Jamie a chance to get a word in edgeways, she leaned even closer and merged their mouths together. To her astonishment, his lips parted, and the kiss hit the ground running in no time. One strong hand gripped her chin and pulled it down further, allowing him to slant his head and deepen the kiss more.  Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  Shock exploded into her brain, and she swayed a little under the onslaught of heat. Jamie pushed his tongue deeper, making a low moaning sound, and she echoed it in kind. Then she felt his hand slide behind her neck as if he couldn't allow her to get away, and that's when she knew she was losing control.  What the hell are you doing Beauchamp? Remember Frank?

Claire pulled away and took a deep breath. With his mouth damp and parted, he too was trying to draw in as much air as he could, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. "Ye look familiar. Who the hell are ye?"

Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she plucked the hundred-pound note out of his fingers. "I'm gone. I'll have a receipt sent over." She took a few steps, stopped and then turned around to look at him. "Oh, by the way, I sincerely hope you're done feeling bad about your rugby career. Circumstances mess everyone up once in a while. And I guess it's fair to say, you've been messed up really bad. But, please, don't lie down and play the victim. I know you're better than this. Look at this way, you've achieved more than anyone could in a lifetime. You did it, Jamie. You've already achieved what you set to do. And I wish you all the luck in the world." 

Taking advantage of the group of people approaching them, she hurried away.

"Hey ...wait, what's yer name?"

This time she didn't respond nor look back. With as much dignity as one could summon while dressed in a doggie costume, she ran as fast as she could.

[softliebgott]

EVENING TEA DRESS

REQUEST: “Speirs steals the reader a sexy dress from a house in Germany and asks for photos of her wearing it 💕🔥” - Anonymous

TAGS: If you would like to be tagged in future prompts or requests, go here and add your username below!

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Swastikas stared at him, and portraits of Hitler looked on in disinterest as Ron grabbed fistfuls of sterling silver forks, spoons, and knives and piled them into his helmet. Pinched beneath his armpit was an opulent serving platter, its edges reminiscent of the intricate carvings of Versailles. 

After depriving the wooden box’s blue velvet mouth of its silverware, Ron’s eyes latched onto a pair of sterling silver candle holders. Like a kid offered his favorite candy on Halloween, he hurried over and snatched the candle holders, putting them in his helmet. 

He moved to the oak desk, swiping a letter opener, cigarettes, and a lighter. He flipped open the lighter, disrupting its rest by provoking a flame to test it. Satisfied, he stuffed it into his pocket.

Robbing any Nazi of their valuable possession incited an enthusiastic tingle in his stomach. They lose the war, and they lose their valuables, just like their victims did. He not only wanted these upscale items for himself, but wanted to give you some nice things. You always came to his mind concerning gifts. He loved seeing the way your eyes would glimmer, like light hitting a diamond’s intricate edges. He never grew tired of your smile, either. You were his girl. You deserved nifty things and to feel happiness.

Ron meandered the house until he found what he assumed to be a woman’s room. Neat, although she had taken what she could. It smelled floral, with notes of gardenia, lilac, and jasmine. It almost smelled like you, which excited his senses. He had to bring back something special. Not used makeup. Not a hand mirror.

He found a closet with little options of clothing, but a wine red dress snagged his attention. He set his helmet on the vanity, the sunlight striking the silver sterling objects in the way liquid mercury reflected light. Ron plucked the dress from the closet and turned it to fully face him. He wasn’t sure what occasion the dress was made for, but it was damn sexy. Picturing you in it wouldn’t be enough. He had to see you in it.

Removing the hanger, he draped it over his arm, grabbed his helmet, and left.

When Ron came to you, arms full of sumptuous goods, your delight triggered a broad smile from him.

“Silver sterling?” You exclaimed, your eyes swollen with surprise. “Krauts have got it all! Bastards.” You searched through his heavy helmet as if it were a candy bowl, picking out knives with intricate designs on the handles.

Ron let you dig through his helmet, setting down the serving platter on the mahogany coffee table. He gripped the red dress by the shoulders, holding it up to show you. “I found this for you. Looks like your size.”

Your eyes flicked up to the dress, and your apple red lips parted in glee. You hurriedly set the helmet down and began to admire the dress, feeling the fabric and your eyes seeking out the details. “Oh, Ron,” you sighed. “It’s gorgeous.” Your eyebrows squished together, adoration softening your features. “Can I try it on?”

Ron lifted his chin, his gaze heavy-lidded and sensuous as an idea came to him. “Only if I can take pictures.” He pushed his tongue against the backs of his teeth, a sly smile teasing the edge of his mouth.

You glanced to the dress and back to him, pursing your lips at your growing smile. “I’ll go change,” you said softly, taking the dress from him. As you walked off to the bedroom, your heels a chorus of clicks, his eyes fell to the curve of your rear. He clenched his jaw and retrieved the camera, an Agfa Readyset Special, something he had stolen from another German household. 

You had changed out of your navy blue, Kitty Foyle dress and into the red one he had brought you. You kept on your black heeled Oxfords, for they could be worn with anything and were gentle on your feet. Cold excitement stirred in your stomach as you fixed your hair, which was akin to Veronica Lake’s style.

When you came out of the bedroom and Ron looked to you, his shoulders went lax as his eyes, heavy with longing, caressed the curves your dress accented. The chest pattern beckoned more attention to your breasts (almost making them appear bigger), and split down your chest in a teasing way. You placed your hands on your hips where the fabric hugged the most.

“Fuck...” Ron whispered. Red suited you more than it should have. His heart drummed in his ears, and he swallowed a sudden build up of saliva. He raised the camera to his eye level, and as you posed like your favorite pin-up models, he took a myriad of photos, his mind wandering into a vixenish territory.

Hands sweating, he set down the camera and approached you. “You frustrate me, baby doll,” he said, breathless. He bent down, hooking his hands behind your knees, and hoisting you up so your legs girded his waist. He pressed his heated lips against yours, breathing in your scent; a fruity, floral, and vanilla perfume. He headed into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Now that he had seen you in the dress, he wanted to feverishly rip it off.

He’d be sure to keep those photos on him at all times, too.

[poeticallyunkind]

A Marriage Proposal - Chardelia

[side note: this is a repost of a story i’ve already published because, like the idiot that i am, i accidentally deleted the original post that this oneshot was under :( sorry for the confusion!]

By the time Cordelia takes the chicken out of the oven, her kitchen looks something like a hurricane. Pots and pans are strewn about the unkempt counter space, left unclean as the blonde rushes from one dish to the next. She runs through her messy checklist for the umpteenth time. Roasted chicken? Check. Charlotte's favorite soup? Check. Red wine, which she may or may not have found in the clearance section? Check. Fancy candles, white tablecloth, and the fine china she'd "borrowed" from her mother's house? Check, check, check.

Sighing, she takes in her hard work. The dining room looks even better than she'd expected. Elegant music flows through the radio, filling the apartment with a symphony of violins and gentle notes. Their table is decked in porcelain serving platters and crystalline wine glasses— the best she could find. In the center stands a candelabra, its light flickering softly in contrast to the darkened walls. She'd even gone as far as to deck the counter space with roses from their local florist.

After checking once more that everything is set, the caterer allows herself a moment to sit and breathe. It briefly calms the nerves tugging at her stomach, but one look at the clock on the wall confirms that Charlotte will be home any time now. In a matter of minutes, she'll give what just might be the biggest, most life-changing speech ever: a proposal to the woman she's madly in love with. No pressure, right?

Wrong.

Cordelia produces a small velvet box from her pocket. A glance at the ring she'd purchased nearly a week ago makes her heart pump with excitement. Admittedly, she'd had quite a bit of trouble finding something at the jewelry store to fit her tiny budget. She ended up with perhaps the most basic engagement ring possible: a sterling silver band that holds a diamond roughly the size of a pebble. The salesperson (who would occasionally throw the blonde a disgusted glance, as if horrified that a woman was going to propose to another woman) had described it as budget-friendly, but Cordelia figures that was the polite way of saying "perfect for people with shitty salaries". She had almost feared that Charlotte would reject her because of the gemstone, but Cordelia knew in her heart that her doctor would never be so materialistic and vain.

A smile creeps onto the caterer's lips as she thinks of her partner of three years. There's not a single doubt in her mind that Charlotte's the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with. Sure, not everything in their relationship is perfect, but she adores her doctor and couldn't imagine a life without her. Her intelligence, her smile, her loyalty and maturity, the way she looks at Cordelia as though she's a goddess... Charlotte is breathtaking in every sense of the word. Despite her nervousness, Cordelia knows that she's about to make the best decision of her life.

Just then, a subtle click of the doorknob fills the cramped apartment. Cordelia quickly crams the box back into her pocket, taking a moment to smooth out her blue blouse. As the door opens, she's blessed with the sight of her beautiful soon-to-be fiancé, who runs a hand through her hair and offers a tired grin.

Unable to wipe the anxious smile off her face, Cordelia coos a greeting. "Charlotte, baby! You're finally home!"

"'Delia, how are y—" the doctor falters, her eyes slowly trailing to the candlelit dining table. "Oh, what's all this?"

"Surprise! This is all for you!"

Charlotte raises an eyebrow. "It's not already my birthday, is it? And Valentine's day was two months ago, and our anniversary isn't for—"

"Sheesh, can't a woman do something nice for her girlfriend without any particular reason?" Cordelia interrupts, heart beating a tad faster than what's considered normal.

Before the brunette can respond, she leads her into the dining room and pulls out a chair, gesturing for Charlotte to take a seat. In the dim candlelight, her partner looks positively radiant.

"Honey, you really didn't have to go through all of this effort," Charlotte says, looking a little bewildered she sits. "You already work your ass off cooking at work, the last thing I'd want you to do is wear yourself out trying to do the same thing at home for me."

Cordelia scoffs. "Oh, shush. It was really nothing. And besides, my favorite girl deserves the best."

Okay, perhaps "nothing" is a bit of a lie, but the exhausted look on Charlotte's face suggests that the last thing she needs to hear about is the grueling time Cordelia spent on this surprise.

Hand on her hip, she leans down to give Charlotte a kiss on the cheek. It isn't until after they've pulled apart and Cordelia has already waltzed into the kitchen that the doctor speaks again.

"...Is that matzo ball soup that I'm smelling?"

Giggling, Cordelia steps back into the room with two plates of food. She sets one on either side of the table and sits across from her partner. "Yep! I made your favorites— matzo ball soup, roasted chicken and veggies, even bought some red wine. Also, there's cookies that I baked with my family's secret recipe!"

"That must've taken forever..." Charlotte trails off, gazing at her dinner with a wide range of emotions. "I really don't deserve you, 'Delia."

"Hey, don't talk like that. We're in this together, sweetheart. I deserve you and you deserve me!"

"Sure, but I still—"

Cordelia interrupts once more. "No 'buts'! We deserve each other, and that's final. Now tell me, is the food good?"

Normally, it isn't. The caterer isn't necessarily the greatest chef of all time, and more often than not her meals are considerably less than great. Sure, her food was edible... but not much more could be said about her cooking.

Maybe a homemade dinner wasn't the best idea for this, she thinks, growing more nervous by the second. Everything has to go perfectly tonight! Shit, what if she says no to my proposal because of how bad my cooking is?

Tentatively, Charlotte takes a bite of chicken. Cordelia half expects her to spit it out when she isn't looking, but surprisingly, the doctor's features light up. "Honey, this is delicious. You made this?"

Cordelia has to resist the urge to break into a happy dance, choosing instead to beam. "I did! I made it all by myself!"

"I'm proud of you, 'Delia. This is absolutely perfect— no, you're perfect."

At that moment, Cordelia becomes uncomfortably aware of the small box's presence in her pocket. Her throat goes dry. Her nerves are telling her to simply take it out and get the proposal over with, but something deep within her forbids it. She needs the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity to confess her undying devotion to the woman in front of her.

In other words, she'll need to wait a little longer to get things moving.

The couple eats in relative calm for the next several minutes, occasionally exchanging bits of small talk between bites. They talk of Charlotte's day at work, of how things are going at the catering business, of their friends— anything to keep the conversation alive. All the while, Cordelia plasters a nervous smile on her face and keeps a hand tucked firmly on her jeans.

"How's Marvin?" Cordelia asks, the topic now settled on the lives of their mutual friends. Marvin is Charlotte's closest friend, but lord knows Cordelia doesn't get to hear enough about him. "I haven't heard from the poor guy in a while."

"Oh, he's... adjusting," Charlotte offers. "I try to talk to him on my lunch breaks as often as I can. All things considered, I guess he's doing well enough."

"Poor thing. It can't be easy, living a situation like that. Suddenly coming to terms with your sexuality, having to go through with a divorce..." Cordelia shudders, the word divorce leaving an unpleasant taste on her tongue.

"I think he's lonely. He's had time to cope with everything and make amends with the people in his life, but what I think he needs is to start getting out more, experiencing things with people."

"We could always invite him over for dinner," Cordelia muses. "Or, hell, I could grab Whizzer and force them to finally meet."

Charlotte huffs out a laugh, making Cordelia's heart flutter with glee. "Now that's an idea. Putting the two most different men in the world in the same room."

"Oh, come on, they're not that different! They're both gay, for starters. Both of them like to, uh, y'know..." Cordelia wracks her brain for any similarities between her best friend and Marvin, and comes up with nothing of substance. "Okay, maybe you're right."

They both share a laugh, and soon enough their plates have been cleared. The radio drones on, filling the apartment with gentle music. The candles have nearly gone out, and the bottle of wine has long since been drained of its contents.

Charlotte rises from her seat, gently pulling in Cordelia for a hug. The two take a moment to simply be with one another, wordless as their fingers intertwine.

"Thank you again for dinner, 'Delia." Charlotte presses a kiss to Cordelia's hand. "It was phenomenal."

"Well, thank you for not hating my surprise. You're phenomenal." Cordelia grins. "I'm really lucky to have you in my life, Char."

"I'm the lucky one."

They reluctantly break from their embrace, and a glance at the clock tells Cordelia that it's growing later and later by the second. Charlotte stands in front of her, her gorgeous features shadowed by the dying candlelight. The scent of roses wafts throughout the room.

A deep breath. Then another. She allows her gaze to fall on the woman she's absolutely crazy for, who in return smiles sweetly. Another breath, and the nervousness practically melts away from her body. Somehow, she knows that she's ready to make the biggest decision of her life.

In other words, it's time.

"...Char, wanna play a game?" she quips, hand moving instinctively to her pocket.

Charlotte's face scrunches up in confusion, a deep contrast to the smile she'd had only seconds ago. "What?"

"A game," Cordelia teases. "Y'know, something you play with—"

"I know what a game is, you dork. What kind of game?"

"Well, just close your eyes and I'll explain the rules."

Her partner gives her a strange look. "Why... would I need to do that?"

"You'll see," is all Cordelia says.

Charlotte scoffs at the cryptic wording, but indeed shuts her eyes. "Alright, eyes are closed. Now what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, the game has to be played between two people who are madly in love with each other." Cordelia swipes the box from her pocket, fidgeting with the velvet.

"Go on..." Charlotte encourages, completely oblivious to what's happening before her.

The caterer props herself on one knee, breathing deeply once more. "And one of these players has to buy a ring, right? But not just any old ring. Because this ring represents the commitment, passion, and love between both players, and connects them for life."

Charlotte becomes visibly nervous, her voice edging somewhere between hopeful and scared. Her eyes remain closed. "Cordelia, are you...?"

"And the person with the ring loves the other player dearly, and desperately wants to spend the rest of her life with her. The other player is her better half, and she knows that. The other player makes her happier than words can tell, and god, the person with the ring hopes that she makes her feel the same."

Cordelia swears she can see Charlotte starting to tear up, and she'd be lying if she said that her own eyes weren't doing the same.

She continues. "So, basically, the game goes like this. The player with the ring gets on one knee, just like this..."

Charlotte finally opens her eyes, taking Cordelia's outstretched hand and producing a watery smile.

"Tells the other player just how much she means to her..."

Cordelia squeezes Charlotte's hand.

"And asks the question of a lifetime."

Charlotte keeps her soft gaze locked firmly on the woman pouring her heart out beneath her. "God, Cordelia..." she trails off.

"Will you marry me, Charlotte?"

Before Cordelia can even stand, she's swept into a long, passionate kiss. The box falls to the floor as she combs her fingers through Charlotte's hair. The world around her falls to meaningless pieces; her fiancé is the only thing that matters. She takes it all in— the wonderful sensation of Charlotte's lips on her own, the tantalizing scent of her perfume, the way the doctor's hand cups her cheek— and knows what Charlotte can't seem to convey in her own words.

Yes, she'll marry her.

[mrsterlingusa]

Be Italian

I love summer evenings and eating outside. Vintage Italian majolica wine jug. Brass peasant girl candlestick. Italian majolica serving platter.

Photography by Mr Sterling

[timcookblog]

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