#tile coasters

[claypigeonpottery]

added a little blue shading on the bison and it suddenly made it feel like dawn lighting. like the bison is stepping out of the shade and into the early morning sunlight

[figdays]

Bloody hands Stone Coaster // UnchainedCreativity

[prestonmonterey]

ceramic pieces :D

i have some pinch pots as well but theyre like

really ugly

annnyway

i havent really posted in a bit so yay im back :3

[tiffanydaleo]

Party Coasters

Check out these adorable party coasters!!

Lots to celebrate today, this is my 700th blog post and it happened to land on my 53rd birthday! 🥳🎉🎊 To commemorate, I wanted to share something a little different. Our 30-year-old water heater died this week. So, while we were moving and cleaning old dusty stuff, I found a box of unused ceramic tiles. I’ve always wanted to play with alcohol inks on tile but never had any tiles, until…

[wildbeautifuldamned]

VTG MCM Mosaic Tile Stone Coasters Ashtray Trinket Tray Set of 3 Ceramic Silver ebay Green Acres Vintage

[alightercraft]

[indecrafts12]

Stylish Marble and Printed Tile Coasters Online – Indecrafts

Upgrade your home with stylish marble and printed tile coasters from Indecrafts. Durable, elegant, and perfect for any space. Shop online today!

[31jindo]

Horses. I am NOT great at horses. Either in wire or other mediums. The tiles carved into horse heads for coasters turned out alright, as did their box. The aluminum on wood sign for turned out alright. The wire horses are just an uphill battle. I just cannot capture the proportions correctly. Either it has a tiny Macedonia style head and a huge badonk-a-donk, or it has an extra set of joints to make it weirdly extra tall. That pink horse eventually became a unicorn, so I am not sure if it really counts as a success or not.

[annmariealford]

Give me your address, so I can mail you a Catan coaster for free

Can I mail one to you as a Catan coaster to protect your Ikea coffee table from sweat rings? I know, I know. You have a Stanley 40 oz bucket of water that doesn't sweat because of double-walled stainless steel. What's that? You have a cool Owala?

I made 49 tiles for my bedroom floor, but my husband doesn’t like them. Can I mail one to you as a Catan coaster to protect your Ikea coffee table from sweat rings? I know, I know. You have a Stanley 40 oz bucket of water that doesn’t sweat because of double-walled stainless steel. What’s that? You have a cool Owala freestyle sipper and you also don’t have sweating cup issues at your house?…

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ 🏠 ✩ domestic prompts

¹⁾ a basket of laundry left in a doorway

²⁾ a sticky note on a pillow

³⁾ colourful fridge magnets

⁴⁾ a laden clothesline

⁵⁾ plates of fresh-cut fruit

⁶⁾ towels warm from the dryer

⁷⁾ the whistle of a kettle

⁸⁾ messy bedsheets

⁹⁾ books stacked on a nightstand

¹⁰⁾ a cupboard of mismatched mugs

¹¹⁾ fresh-brewed tea

¹²⁾ a sink full of dishes

¹³⁾ pictures lined up on a mantlepiece

¹⁴⁾ sun-warmed floorboards

¹⁵⁾ odd socks

¹⁶⁾ overflowing paper grocery bags

¹⁷⁾ a steamed-up bathroom mirror

¹⁸⁾ dinner left in the oven to keep warm

¹⁹⁾ a porcelain teapot

²⁰⁾ mismatched cutlery

²¹⁾ potted herb plants lined up on a windowsill

²²⁾ a stocked bar cart

²³⁾ a teeming closet

²⁴⁾ cold tiles

²⁵⁾ a shared bath

²⁶⁾ rooms decorated with trinkets

²⁷⁾ a jewellery dish

²⁸⁾ shoes left by a doorway

²⁹⁾ a faded portrait in an old frame

³⁰⁾ soft lamplight

³¹⁾ the drone of a ceiling fan

³²⁾ homemade lemonade

³³⁾ a messy makeup vanity

³⁴⁾ faded coasters

³⁶⁾ lit candles

³⁷⁾ frayed couch cushions

³⁸⁾ a blanket draped over a sleeping form

³⁹⁾ creaky stairs

⁴⁰⁾ fresh-cut timber

⁴¹⁾ an overgrown garden

⁴²⁾ a spare room

⁴³⁾ a medicine cabinet

⁴⁴⁾ jasmine bath salts

⁴⁵⁾ soft pyjamas

⁴⁶⁾ bare feet on cold floorboards

⁴⁷⁾ sunday dinners

⁴⁸⁾ post scattered under the letterbox

⁴⁹⁾ family photos

⁵⁰⁾ an old armchair

⁵¹⁾ scrawled-on calendars

⁵²⁾ a roaring fireplace

⁵³⁾ reminders stuck to the fridge

⁵⁴⁾ boardgames

⁵⁵⁾ a dusty attic

⁵⁶⁾ smoke curling out of a chimney

⁵⁷⁾ evenings on the porch

⁵⁸⁾ a record player

⁵⁹⁾ tangled chargers

⁶⁰⁾ a chipped bathtub

⁶¹⁾ a silver serving tray

⁶²⁾ souvenir shot glasses

⁶³⁾ a blackout

⁶⁴⁾ movie nights

⁶⁵⁾ a late dinner party

⁶⁶⁾ half-finished crochet projects

⁶⁷⁾ a loose thread on a sweater

⁶⁸⁾ dog leads hung by the door

⁶⁹⁾ a leaning coatrack

⁷⁰⁾ a grocery list

⁷¹⁾ patterned dishes

⁷²⁾ bright teatowels

⁷³⁾ an empty drawer

⁷⁴⁾ vhs tapes

⁷⁵⁾ documentary reruns

[claypigeonpottery]

sold

the underglaze crawled in two places, but I actually didn't notice it on first look. the bare patches just look like stars

[frankiecatphotography]

Excuse me...your birdfeeder is empty Tile Coaster - on Sale!

[bills5lut]

delivered

masterlist prompt list

warnings: angst, avoidance. 

synopsis: you and billie having to do long distance because she’s touring, but the distance seems to be becoming too much for the both of you. 

The apartment is still. Not the comforting kind of stillness, this is the kind that feels like something’s missing. A low-grade hum of wrongness beneath the surface, like you’re walking through a version of your life with the volume turned down.

You’ve had your phone beside you all day. Not even pretending otherwise.

Every buzz has made your heart jump. But none of them have been her.

You glance at the screen again.

Delivered.

The last three messages sit there like tiny bruises. Nothing terrible, just, nothing back.

hope you slept okay, what’s today like?

saw that clip of last night, you sounded insane. crowd went nuts.

are you on the bus today? finneas said you guys had a long drive. hope it’s not too boring.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. You’re not angry. You’ve told yourself that so many times it’s almost true. She’s working. She’s doing what she loves. She’s tired. 

But still. Billie’s somewhere on a bus, rolling through southern Europe with signal and time and a full day of nothing but road ahead of her. You know that because Finneas responded to your story with a blurry pic of Billie asleep on the couch. Not because Billie told you.

You press your thumb against the screen and hold it there. Staring. Then you hit the call button. The ringtone hums into your ear, and you stand up, too full of restless energy to stay sitting. You pace from the window to the kitchen counter and back again, your socked feet whispering across the hardwood.

Second ring.

You pick up a coaster, set it down again. Open the fridge. Close it.

Third ring.

Then a click. The line connects with a faint burst of static, followed by the low murmur of movement, fabric rustling, maybe the sound of Billie shifting under a blanket.

“Hey.”

The sound of her voice makes your knees almost buckle.

“Hey, hi,” you say, too fast. You try to sit on the couch but end up perching on the edge, one leg tucked under the other. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just tired.”

You smile automatically, even though your chest is tight. “Long drive today, huh?”

A pause. You can hear the dull hum of the engine in the background. Someone’s faint laugh, far away.

“Mm. Yeah.”

You pull at the drawstring of your hoodie, winding it tight around your fingers.

“I saw a video from last night’s show,” you say, your voice lighter now, trying to find that old rhythm. “You sounded incredible. That acoustic section? Jesus.”

“Thanks.”

A whisper of fabric again, as she moves. The line crackles softly.

You keep going, gentle and hopeful. “What city are you headed to?”

Another beat.

“I forget. Somewhere in Spain.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. “You’re so bad at geography.”

No laugh from her. Not even a huff.

You sit back a little, shifting your weight. You hear the tiny click of her water bottle cap. She’s moving around, kind of half-there.

“I was thinking about Lisbon,” you say. “That bookstore. The one where the floor slanted and you kept making me read poems out loud.”

“Yeah.”

“I read the back page of that notebook today. You’d written something about the light on the tiles. Made me cry a little.”

Billie doesn’t say anything. You imagine her staring out the tour bus window, barely listening.

“That’s cute,” she says eventually.

You run your hand through your hair, slowly. Everything in you wants to ask her what’s wrong. But you know the answer: nothing. Nothing’s wrong. And that’s the worst part.

“Did you eat today?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you have?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “Some gas station shit.”

You fake a smile into the receiver. “Romantic.”

She doesn’t respond. Just a soft shift of her breathing.

Then she asks, “How was your day?”

It’s a strange question coming from her now. Her tone doesn’t match the words. It’s distant, like it belongs to someone else.

Still, you answer. You always answer.

“I, it was okay. Kinda quiet. I did some work, went for a walk after dinner. The sunset was….”

“Hey,” Billie cuts in. Not harshly. Just suddenly.

You stop talking.

“I think I’m gonna crash,” she says. “Got an early soundcheck tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “Okay.”

You pause, fingers tightening around the phone.

“Goodnight, baby,” you say softly. “I love you.”

There’s a long, long pause.

Then just: “Yeah. Night.”

The line goes dead.

You stare at the screen for a few seconds, like maybe you imagined that. Like maybe she didn’t just hang up without saying it back.

She always says it back.

She always calls you baby. Or babe. Or honey. Or something.

Tonight, nothing.

You lower the phone to your lap and just sit there. The room is too still again. The fridge hums. Somewhere in the apartment, a pipe clicks.

You feel suddenly ridiculous. Like you’re twelve years old waiting on a boy to text you back. Except it’s not that. It’s worse. Because it’s Billie. And you’re not mad. You’re not anything sharp or fiery.

You just feel small.

And maybe a little foolish for loving someone who feels a million miles, and kind of is. 

[gojover]

[4:56 a.m.] ⋆ “you better have a good fucking reason for dragging me out of bed, miya.”

the hallway light is dim, and you squint at your boyfriend, standing at the kitchen doorway. it’s way too early for whatever he’s up to: the curtains are still drawn, the heater is still humming, and your dog is still curled into a ball at the end of the hallway.

atsumu doesn’t look the least bit guilty. he’s wide awake, hair sticking up in all directions, crouched in front of the freezer in nothing but sweatpants and a sock on one foot.

“craving hit,” he says simply, holding up a container. “y’know the fruity kind you like? they had it the last time i went to the store.”

“so you dragged me out of bed for sherbet?”

“it’s limited edition,” he says.

you rub your face with a sigh, but you’re already padding towards him anyway. the tiles are cold beneath your socks. atsumu steps aside to let you steal warmth from the open fridge light, and hands you a spoon.

“y’wanna sit down? i put the kettle on too. figured you might want tea.”

your grumpiness falters a little. the tea part softens you.

the two of you end up on the couch, legs tangled under the shared throw blanket, a half-eaten tub of sherbet between you. astumu uses your thigh as an armrest while balancing his tea on a coaster he didn’t grab until after he was scolded. the dog eventually joins you, curling into the crook of atsumu’s legs. the clock ticks softly.

“this is so stupid,” you mutter, though you’re not grumpy anymore. “it’s nearly dawn.”

he leans his head against yours. “but yer smilin’.”

you snort. “barely.” 

“still counts.”

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and eats another bite of sherbet. you wipe a drip off his chin with your sleeve, and tuck your feet under his calves and nudge his tea closer to him. atsumu kisses your temple again, because he can. the sherbet’s melting. the sky’s starting to lighten, but neither of you move to clean up. there’ll be time for that later.

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Saxophone Player Real Marble Coaster Cork backed EBAY bit_and_bob