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bargainsleuthbooks · 5 months

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The Porcelain Maker by Sarah Freethy #ARCReview #NetGalley #BookReview #HistoricalFiction #WWII #StMartinsPress

In this debut novel, readers will learn about the creation of fine porcelain figurines in Germany during WWII under the direction of the leader of the SS, Heinrich Himmler. #ThePorcelainMaker #StMartinsPress #NetGalley #ARCReview #BookReview #WWIIFiction

Germany, 1929. At a festive gathering of young bohemians in Weimar, two young artists, Max, a skilled Jewish architect, and Bettina, a celebrated avant-garde painter, are drawn to each other and begin a whirlwind romance. Their respective talents transport them to the dazzling lights of Berlin, but this bright beginning is quickly dimmed by the rising threat of Nazism. Max is arrested and sent to…

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#Allach Porcelain #ARC Review #Book Review #Concentration Camp #Heinrich Himmler #Historical Fiction #Nazi Occupation #NetGalley #New Books #November 2023 Books #Sarah Freethy #Simon & Schuster #St. Martin&039;s Press #The Porcelain Maker #World War II #WWII

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jolieeason · 5 months

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The Porcelain Maker by Sarah Freethy

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press Date of publication: November 7th, 2023 Genre: Historical Fiction, Fiction, World War II, Romance, Historical, Adult Fiction, Holocaust, Germany, War, Relationships Purchase Links: Kindle | Audible | B&N | AbeBooks | WorldCat Goodreads Synopsis: An epic story of love, betrayal, and art that spans decades, through the horrors of World War II to 21st century…

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#adult fiction #fiction #Germany #Historical #historical fiction #Holocaust #relationships #romance #Sarah Freethy #The Porcelain Maker #war #World War II

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jamboreeartsupplies · 6 months

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MEET THE NEW PALS !!!!

Banana Milk Denim Jean they/them

Fruitloop Freddie he/they/it (needs a new hat!!! he lost it's old one)

Banana Milk is plastic and fabric (no porcelain) and they smell vaguely of cherries or almonds and it reminds me of a clown doll i had as a kid that i can barely remember other than the smell. its so nostalgic 🥹💕🌈

#i was lonely without Acorn Anne 😭💔#so now Acorn Anne will come home to two more siblings hehe #still hoping to move before this year is over so 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻😬😬😬#there was a few other clowns with the same maker as Acorn Anne that i thought were cuter but #im so glad i got these two bc first of all 2 clowns are better than 1 and also bc Banana Milk is so nostalgic #but also Freddie is sooo cute like i love it so much actually the colors of both these friends are so so fun and cute #they make me so happy #i named them after their colors bc the colors are just so yummy #just like Acorn Anne Syrup lol all my clowns are food names xD sort of xD #my clowns #clown dolls #clowns #clown #porcelain clown doll #porcelain clown #clown posting #clownblr #clowncore #clown doll #fruitloop freddie #banana milk denim jean

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oddduckdice · 3 months

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Antique

Blue and white washi tape

Charming mixed cups-and-saucers-in-tea-shop feel

#ttrpg #dice #dice goblin #handmade dice #dice maker #ttrpg art #resin #rpg dice #dnd5e #delft #porcelain

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saltysunflowersugar · 9 months

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I made a bunch of OCs with a Monster High doll creator, most of them don’t even have names but I still wanna show them off

BTW here’s the link to the game

First up, here’s Portia-Lynn (I haven’t actually decided if Portia-Lynn should be her first name or if her first name should be Portia and her last name is Lynn) she’s a sentient porcelain doll

next up are a bunch of unnamed OCs

like this Bee girl (I kinda want to name her Regina but that feels too obvious for a queen bee character, especially since Regina George already exists)

or this unnamed fish girl

or this scarecrow (I haven’t decided on her first name but I think her last name should be Hayworth)

And of course, we can’t forget about this cutesy hopeless romantic Gargoyle

or this galaxy girl

or this fairy

or this angel

or this Zombie girl

bonus points: here’s what she looked like when she was alive

#Monster high #Monster High OCs #made in a dress-up game #porcelain doll OC #Bee girl OC #Fish girl/ mermaid? OC #scarecrow OC #Gargoyle OC #Galaxy Girl OC #Fairy OC #Angel OC #Zombie OC #I'm probably gonna re-draw them later but with some details changed so that I don't have to deal with the limitations of the doll maker #just made them for funsies :D #I don't know if I will be able to re-draw them quite yet just simply because my phone is running low on storage #my OCs

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dawnatkin · 2 years

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Group shot of the tea bowls heading for today’s shop update at 3:00 mountain time. They all have a much larger indent than I have done in the past. It feels more…. well, more. These past few weeks have been high stress for me. Tea bowls are a great stress relief, so there are more than usual in this update, and they all have a little extra “lost myself in the details” feel. Thank you for keeping me grounded, little cups. . . . #creativityeveryday #artislife #pottery #ceramics #keramik #teabowls #yunomi #handmadecups #claytalk #etsy #shopetsy #shophandmade #newwork #ilovewhatido #porcelain #maker #makeart #potterylovers #potteryoninstagram #instapotterylovers #lithologyceramicart https://www.instagram.com/p/CdTWpNjLp_2/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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eternallyphan · 7 months

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Enclosed - Transitional Kitchen

Mid-sized transitional l-shaped porcelain tile enclosed kitchen idea with stainless steel appliances, an island, shaker cabinets, dark wood cabinets, quartz countertops, beige backsplash, and stone tile backsplash.

#metal cabinet pull #kitchen #coffee maker #brown porcelain tile flooring #glass pendant lighting #skylights in kitchen #medium wood distressed cabinetry

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plotjotsandespressoshots · 8 months

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Personal tea pots came out banging this time around!

#tea #teapots #ceramic #porcelain #handmade #maker

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wr0n9way · 1 year

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Contemporary Laundry Room in Orange County

#Utility room - large contemporary galley porcelain tile and beige floor utility room idea with an undermount sink #recessed-panel cabinets #blue cabinets #quartzite countertops #beige walls #a side-by-side washer/dryer and white countertops pacific coast custom design #pull-down drying rack #laundry #sonoma tile makers #hafele

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batty4u · 1 year

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Pantry Kitchen

#Inspiration for a large modern u-shaped porcelain tile and gray floor kitchen pantry remodel with a farmhouse sink #shaker cabinets #yellow cabinets #quartz countertops #blue backsplash #glass tile backsplash #stainless steel appliances #an island and white countertops pop up outlet #appliance garage #blue and white #ice maker #glass mosaic

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jolieeason · 6 months

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WWW Wednesday: November 15th, 2023

WWW Wednesday is a weekly meme Sam hosts at Taking on a World of Words. The Three Ws are: What are you currently reading? What did you recently finish reading? What do you think you’ll read next? Here is what I am currently reading, recently finished, and plan to read from Thursday to Wednesday. Let me know if you have read or are planning on reading any of these books!! Happy…

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#Amy Taylor #Isabel Ibanez #meme #Never Wager with a Wallflower #Sarah Freethy #Search History #The Porcelain Maker #Virginia Heath #What the River Knows #WWW Wednesday

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wucrnos · 1 year

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Dining Kitchen

#Eat-in kitchen - large contemporary u-shaped porcelain tile #gray floor and tray ceiling eat-in kitchen idea with an undermount sink #flat-panel cabinets #white cabinets #multicolored backsplash #stainless steel appliances #two islands and multicolored countertops leather bar stools and counter stools #dark charcoal shiplap #custom cabinetry #coffee makers #book matched backsplash

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chigusaeyes · 1 year

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Porcelaine and some Looks

front shot of second outfit under cut

I've been playing fantasy dress up can you tell

#kae's render tag #kae's oc tag #kae's art tag #art is just a way for me to have my own doll maker tbh #what can i say...............#porcelaine tag

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diejager · 2 months

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New Ownership

Pairing: Dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, magic?, death, heartbreak, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.2k

You used to watch people awe at you, expressing their shock, incredulous and pleasing, under the protection of your owner —your creator. You were an object of emotion; of melancholy. You were a life size doll made of porcelain and wax, of hohair and glass eyes, painted in the richest pigments and dressed in the finest fabrics, you were the epitome of treasure in your time. A doll made with utmost care and tenderness to heal a wounded heart.

Your creator was a doll maker, building every doll with a special kind of affection, be it for his collection or for a client, he always loved his dolls. He made as much as he gave, the single joy of his life was the present his late-wife gave him, a daughter to call his own, someone soft and living unlike the cold bisque of his creations. You were a present for her coming-of-age, a mimicry of her person, made with love for the adoration he had for his daughter, and sadness for seeing her grow up and leave, to start a new life without him. Every stroke was perfection and every detail was imperfection, you were perfectly imperfect, a mirror to a human.

You were made as an object to remember him by once she left to live with her fiance, painted in the last moments before he saw her off. He dressed you up in a pretty dress, a voluptuous crimson for the passion and a deep black for the end of he past and the start of a new beginning. He made you into what he saw his sweet, precious daughter as, a dream that he was ecstatic to gift, but she was in an accident the week before her celebration. She died of it, passing in writhing pain and tearful agony. It broke the man who lived to care. Your tender creator who lived to love and give.

He drowned in the throes of sorrow and agony, paraliysed by his own fears and torn apart by his nightmares, and left the house you once loved to rot and waste away just as he was. Sobbing nights and depressing mornings, you were unable to do anything but watch as he spent his days rotting, his skin sinking, his hair outgrow and his complexity pale unhealthily, yet he still cared for you. Your creator —your father cleaned you, dressed you and incased you in a thin layer of wax and gel to protect you from the changing times.

You gave him solace, something to live for after he closed his quaint shop and became a hermit, crazed and lonely, having nothing but you to talk to and spend his shortening time with. You wished you could tell him how much you cared, how much you shared his sorrows or how saddened you were to see him like this. And like his daughter, your father passed away, heartbroken and lonely, leaving you to watch over his cooling body dissolving in his bed. All the wasted years, spent seated in your chair, unmoving and unliving, never being able to reach out to him to show him how much you loved him. Life, however, ran its course, uncaring of any kind of self-sought fury or self-given agony, you were just a doll given conscience and memory.

You were picked up by a relative, estranged and distant from yours. He was German, or Austrian from the rough tone he used, a deep growl as he appraised you, rough fingers caressing your face like he was admiring you. He was, this wasn’t admiration in his eyes, you knew it, that sick and twisted gleam in his brown eyes, it was obsession. It was a perverted kind of adoration, it made you fear what he would do to you.

And these fears, these demons that clung to your peripheral, weren’t unfounded, weren’t an illusion your conscience made up to fill the void in your empty core. You were carefully stuffed in a box, stored safely during the long move from your small town in Germany to a place in Austria, locked away in a loud and dark place and only brought out to be placed in another cage of gold.

He laid you in a pentagram of sorts, a crooked thing painted in a dark red and terrifying runes that promised nothing but evil. He enacted this… ritual that would affect you in some way, his low chants and hisses while he stared you down with hungry eyes once he stripped you of all clothes, lathering your porcelain with markings. He scared you more, knowing that he had this planned out, and that he wasn’t alone.

There was a shadow of a giant behind him, a man heads taller than most with cold eyes peeking through a fabric to gaze at you. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, seemingly swallowing the corner he stood from. He took up a lot of your attention, ripped between the chanting man and him from your chair, placed perfectly at the center of this ritualistic circle. You were a show to the giant and a project to your new owner, a spectacle to watch unravel and writhe in pain.

It hurt. Why did this hurt? Your skin tingled, an annoyance that grew to a boiling agony, this sacrilegious magic reworking your imperfect body to fit one of his whims. You shook in your chair, the red sinking into your skin, lining the inside of your precious porcelain with runes as your fingers and toes flexed, limbs jerking from the information overload on your new nerves, synapses snapping into place and building a circuit of sensitive system. You could blink and you could cry, tears springing from your fluttering lashes, lips trembling before you screamed, a shrill cry that wailed out of your lungs.

Your chest burned, it felt heavy with an erratic pulse, beat after beat slamming into your calcified ribs, warm fat and strained muscles. You felt like you were drowning, your throat clogged with something sick and dying after you shriek, acidic to your tongue. It stole the air from your lungs and you had to fill it back, the nagging urge to do so. Your chest expanded with your first breath, it hurt - it burned, but you didn’t drown - but it seamed the first seed of life within you.

You slumped forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the last words he uttered passed through your mind, a searing memory forever imprinted in your conscience. You fell into warm arms, a soothing warmth unlike the boiling pit of magma that raged over you, embracing you with a quiet coo from the man who brought you to life. He hoisted you up, wrapping an arm under your knees and another firmly pressing your naked chest to his. Yours limbs were strangers to you, new and uncanny that you couldn’t move or control just yet. You limply laying your head in the crook of his neck, burying your nose in a green veil smelling strongly of musk and metal, your legs too weak and arms too tense like a newly born fawn.

“Besorg mir etwas, um sie zu bedecken, König”

“Ja, bin gleich wiener da..”

“Welcome to the living, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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dawnatkin · 2 years

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By request, a few plates for this #throwbackthursday Most of these are in my personal collection, which means they have been tested with the microwave, dishwasher, kid knocking them around in the sink, and other such daily abuses for about 10 years now. Of course my work is porcelain, so it is breakable, but it certainly isn’t fragile. I believe art should be part of everyday life. My plates can hang on a wall. Tea bowls can be displayed on a pedestal. They are safe there. They will never wear out. But they can’t reveal their full meaning without use. . . #tbt #plates #ceramicart #pottery #porcelain #arteveryday #maker #etsy #etsymudteam #clayartsutah #onmytable #inmykitchen #dinnerware #functionalart #lithologyceramicart https://www.instagram.com/p/CkOI6U7r03O/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#throwbackthursday #tbt #plates #ceramicart #pottery #porcelain #arteveryday #maker #etsy #etsymudteam #clayartsutah #onmytable #inmykitchen #dinnerware #functionalart #lithologyceramicart

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hairmetal666 · 8 months

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Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #getting back together #mutual pining #fluff #ficlet #part 2 #time jump #a tiny bit of angst #here's the happy ending #implied child abuse #part one was august i guess part two is the one #we were something don't you think so #and if my wishes came true it would've been you #jk eddie is the one #they're in love your honor #steve's parents are pieces of shit

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