#Wintry Bouquet

[academyoftheheartandmind]

Suncakes and Other Poems

By Joan McNerney Suncakes Do you know how to make them? They’re supposed to be light bright and full of vitamin C. Everyone says you just glow after eating one. My friend had a shining recipe I kept asking for. Suncakes stop you from being cold and lost in avalanches. I remember something about filling golden pans with flowers seeds sunflower seeds…bake at high noon, of course. If only there…

[thefoxtherapist]

Birthday Kisses

Happy Birthday Aalto!!! He's my favourite<3

I'm a bad bf though because I did not realise it was June 11th, so sorry.

You heard the keys in the lock, or rather, you heard him struggle with the keys in the lock. You could hear his frustrated sigh, the thud of him hitting his head on the wooden door. It was then you stood up to let the poor man in, his keys never seemed to work, you weren’t really sure how he managed.

You coughed as you entered the entrance of your apartment, a greyish golden mist formed underneath the door, seeping into the entrance. You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched the mist grow in size and shape. Eventually, it became humanoid, and quickly, it became Aalto.

He took a step back in surprise, clearly he hadn’t expected you to be standing there. The man pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, pushing his bangs up in the process. You snickered, uncrossing your arms to step closer to him where you could lean up and kiss his exposed forehead.

“Done protecting the world for the day?”

You watched his face twist, he looked tired, but his annoyance was played up, a faux exasperation. “It never ends.” Aalto shook his head, his sunglasses falling back onto his face, albeit, awkwardly. You reached up, plucking them from his face to put on the entrance table in their usual location.

“Find what you wanted at least?”

Aalto stretched his arms upwards before he took his terminal off, setting it beside his sunglasses. He then bent down to undo his boots. “Not exactly, but at least we found answers. Did Encore get in okay?”

“Yeah, she’s in bed.” 

His boots came off then he stood to take his poncho off, abandoning it on the ground beside the door. He paused when he felt your stare on him, slowly bending down to pick it up and put it in the closet instead. A sheepish smile on his face.

“Do you know what day it is?”

Aalto stopped to think about it as he began to undo the various pieces of armour he wore daily. He let out a small sound and you couldn’t help your adoring smile at his expression of confusion. “Tuesday?” He finally answered, at least he was right about that, it was Tuesday.

You beckoned him to follow you further into the apartment, and he did, following you into the living room where he left his gear on the couch. Then into the kitchen. Aalto hoisted himself up on the counter as you went to the ice chest, crossing his ankles, still gloved hands in his lap.

You pulled open the ice chest door, bending down to grab something from within. Fluffy silver hair fell into his face as you closed the door with your hip, holding a small box in your hands. He uncrossed his ankles, spreading his legs so you could stand between them comfortably.

“What’s this?”

“For you.”

Aalto took the box, feeling the weight in his hands, the slight indent, the shape. He quickly opened the box, golden eyes widening in clear glee. “A cake?!” He looked up at you, his canines visible as he grinned. But then he paused, realisation dawned on him. His eyes dropped back to the cake in the box. 

“It’s my birthday..”

“Happy birthday, Aalto.”

You reached above him, opening a cupboard near his head, you took a small bouquet out from within. A dozen wintry bells bundled together with silver and golden ribbons. Aalto put the cake on the counter beside him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into an awkwardly angled hug.

“You remembered.” 

“Of course I remembered.”

“I didn’t even remember!”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him. “Too busy playing hero for the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes at your comment, but you meant it genuinely. You also set the flowers down so you could push yourself up in his arms. At this angle, you were able to enact your final goal.

Aalto always smiled into your kisses, part of what made him so endearing. Even if it made kissing him more difficult for no good reason. You were just happy he seemed so happy by the fact you remembered his birthday.

“Alright! Let’s dig into this cake before Encore smells it!”

“I got her one of her own.”

“Smart!”

[thedevillionaire]

and there will your heart be also

She’s been away five days and will be away two more.

He sneezes again, curses under his breath about it and gazes out the window for an uncertain time. It’s raining still, and bitterly cold. The flowers she’d left on the sill are starting to fade. Wintry sleet falls steadily, constantly, and he has a thousand things he’s supposed to do and he’s not doing a damn one of them, his focus both scattered and singular as he claims a tissue from the box by the flowers.

He wipes his nose firmly and recalls her placing the bouquet just so, fresh and vibrant, smiling at him so pleased with her arrangement of it all, her arms around him in soft devoted embrace. The ghost of her touch caresses him in memory; the image brings a suffusing warmth, and he loses himself to its comforting spectre.

For a moment, at least.

He sniffles, chilled despite the hearthfire’s radiant heat, and an ominous shiver runs through him. A catch in his throat follows, barbed and wicked. He frowns at it, shakes his head in an irritated, unspoken refutation of what it might imply. Any further acknowledgement of coming down with something is pushed as firmly from his thoughts as he can; he can’t be sick. It’s not going to…

Hh-HH…

It’s not… *snf!* Not going to happen. He won’t allow it. He won’t… *SNF!* It’s not…

His breath sharpcatches and all thoughts crumble capitulated to urgent, desperate sensation.

“HHTSSCH-uu! Hh-TSSSCH-uu! Ah, gods.” With a wetly insistent series of sniffles, he takes yet another tissue and, after a moment of consideration, another for good measure. Another.

He sighs.

And he misses her, and he misses her.

---

[lyselkatz]

Flowers for the Black Fairy 💐

Adding a new outfit to the "YáoYao paperdoll collection" to mark this day. We sent a bouquet (from 10 countries) to him thank to the help of a couple of Mainland wolflings.

🖌Commission

Special thanks to @kingsandbastardz and @the-wintry-mizzenmast 💜💜💜

[kvohru]

boxes of clementines | w. herondale

will herondale x fem reader, no mention of shadowhunter stuff, established relationship, husband!will, fluff!!!! so much fluff!!!!, cross posted on ao3 under @/kvohru

‘There are boxes of clementines in the kitchen and the thing is that I love you again.’ — Alessia Di Cesare, The Side Effects of Eating Too Many Clementines

Despite it being a December morning, it was surprisingly warm in your home— for a wintry London day's standards, that is. The sun was up, for one thing, its delicate rays filtering through the clouds and into your kitchen.

Perhaps it's the fact that you live in the countryside? you thought idly as you put away your groceries. Maybe that's why it was sunnier today? Well, regardless, your warm friend was still a welcome guest any day.

Seeing as how it was the weekend today, neither you nor Will had work, so you took it as a chance to get caught up on some housekeeping chores like groceries and such. Well, you had been out getting groceries while Will—who was set to return by the afternoon—was out doing… other things. (He was out replacing something or the other, you weren't quite focusing when he had told you about it the other day.)

And so you went on, adopting a tranquil rhythm, sorting boxes into cupboards and washing all the fresh produce you'd bought. Apples, strawberries and cucumbers were left to soak in the sink while the boxes of clementines were left on the kitchen counters.

You let out a contented sigh. It was a good morning.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It was well past the afternoon when Will was walking up the stone walkway to the quaint countryside home. In fact, the sun was already starting to set by then, the pale blue sky quickly turning a warm orange instead.

He trudged up the steps to the front porch, adjusting the large bouquet in his hands; a brilliant arrangement of flowers that he didn't think twice about buying when he passed by that florist he often frequented for you.

He shifted the bags he was carrying along with said bouquet to his other arm, freeing up his right to dig into his coat pocket for the keys. “Cariad?” he called as he walked in, toeing his shoes off and placing them neatly beside the door.

It was a few seconds before your reply, which came in form of a Hm?, could be heard. He set all the bags down. A few more seconds where he could hear your feet padding across the wooden floors before you finally, finally, came into view.

“Will!” After all these years, you still had a way of seeming utterly excited when seeing him. I mean, he could practically see the almost cartoonish glimmer in your eyes from across the room.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted gently, his whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of you. It was as if simply being around you worked all the knots from his shoulders and eased all his muscles.

The smile wholly transformed your face at the sound of the term of endearment, the corners of your eyes crinkling adorably and your lips splitting instantly into a wide smile.

The setting sun cast long shadows on the ground, the slanting rays giving a warm orange tinge to the earth, the sky and everything in between.

Your eyes finally left his face and travelled down to his body, where you finally spotted the bouquet balanced on his elbow. He had thought it'd be the first thing you'd notice when he walked in, seeing as how it was almost as big as his torso, but you hadn't.

You'd been too transfixed on his face, on him, to notice anything else.

Your face instantly softened, an almost infinitesimal shift in your expression that would've been impossible to notice if it were anyone else looking at you. But Will noticed. He always did.

It was like it was happening in slow motion, that change in your expression. From the previous childlike joy at seeing your husband to the look of pure, unadulterated love in your eyes.

“Oh, darling,” you breathed, almost to yourself, as you walked closer. You gingerly plucked the bouquet out of his arm, instantly pulling it up to your face to smell it. It really was a gorgeous arrangement; from the roses to the carnations to the peonies, and the tiny pieces of baby's breath sprinkled throughout.

And the part that made it all the more precious to you was that you knew Will had taken time out of his day to put it together. You knew it wasn't prearranged, and the image of your husband standing at the florist and meticulously putting together an assortment of flowers for you warmed your heart to an immeasurable degree.

“Will,” you breathed again, and… were you getting teary-eyed? You looked up at him, and yep, those were definitely tears lining your waterline. He couldn't help the corner of his mouth lifting at the sight. “They're so beautiful. You're so beautiful. Thank you so much. I love you.”

You were gushing your praises and gratitude now, and it wouldn't be long before—

“Wait,” you mumbled, a look of realisation (which looked more like horror than anything) falling over your face. You whipped your head around, your ponytail smacking him in the chest from the force of the motion.

He barely contained his amused scoff. You were and would always be incredibly and adorably predictable. Not to mention incredibly easy to read, too.

“No occasion,” he said, interrupting your Oh No Did I Miss An Important Date?™ scanning-over-the-calendar routine. You let out an audible sigh of relief, your whole body slumping forward with the motion, and this time Will couldn't hold back the smug grin.

You set the bouquet down and looked at him, suspicious despite your relief. He could practically hear the question in your gaze (refer back to what I said about you being incredibly easy to read), and he was sure it went something like this: A bouquet this big for no reason?

He sighed dramatically and leaned closer, his voice taking on that classic teasing lilt of his, “What? Can't a man surprise his wife with flowers in peace?”

“But why?” you insisted quietly. Clearly, you were incredibly worried you'd somehow forgotten about an important date. Because what if you had and Will, being the ever so gracious (debatable) man that he was, didn't want to embarrass you by reminding you?

“Just because.”

“But it's so big.” Your worried gaze met his, and his grin split even wider.

“Not the only big thing I can—”

You smacked him lightly on the arm to shut him up. “Come on!” he complained, forever the melodramatic man that he was, “You practically walked into that one!”

You rolled your eyes, but the gesture held absolutely no heat, especially not when you were smiling despite yourself. “Thank you,” you said sincerely, rising up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, and hoping he could sense the extent of your gratitude in that kiss.

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly between kisses, the teasing leaving his voice entirely and being replaced by an insurmountable amount of love.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A while later, after he had changed and joined you back in the kitchen, the two of you could be found sitting at the kitchen island, sharing a clementine.

[ofdrivensnow]

@bairdsings || plotted starter.

The winter ball was about to begin and he was still conflicted on what to wear to it. It was a massive gathering for everyone who had money in Washington, D.C. to attend to profit a charity. So to say. But Coriolanus knew the meaning got lost along the way of it simply being just another event for members of congress and other politics to gather and try to up one each other. As long as he mingled like he was interested, it didn't matter though. Rushed along by his scolding father, forced to wear the shirt he didn't wish to wear from his booming voice as interruption that had made him jolt right in the middle of switching it out, he begrudgingly pulled back on the white long sleeve onto his broad shoulders. There was nothing wrong with it, it was elegant and fit perfectly right, minus the few wrinkles in the sleeves ; but that's precisely what made his mind obsess the most as he roughly tried smoothing out the minor wrinkles over and over. Grandma'am dressed to the nines came in reassuring he looked perfect and handsome ; pinning a rose to his vest– even she must've noticed the distress on his face even as batty as she is. Corio gathered his other belongings and then quickly left his room with his grandmother so his father wouldn't have to lose his temper. He was still to anxiously fidget with his shirt on their way out of their grand home and into a luxury vehicle. The sparkling all black Chevrolet Suburban that awaited outside. Scent of new leather filled his senses once he climbed in after his grandmother then roses. Scent of his mother. His head perked up, wondering where that smell was coming from then eyes dropped down on the red rose sticking from his vest once he was reminded. He didn't even realize the obsessive thoughts finally had faded once the memory of his mother's scent filled his mind and he had began finally focusing on the road passing by outside his window the rest of the way instead of his appearance.

Once they arrived and secret service eventually stops crowding in on them because they are allowed to, Corio does his rounds of handshaking and mingling, making sure to put his best efforts into it ; knowing his father wouldn't be far observing how he acted. Then he found himself entering the crowd of the ballroom. The ballroom was magnificent as it always was... other than the grand architecture of it, it was dazzling in winter themed decor. The lights were dim other than from the chandeliers, blue and white lights projecting giving the room a wintry glow. Pre-lit painted white trees sitting around. Chairs and tables adorned with white ribbon, candles and white and powder blue bouquets roses sitting in the centers and along the stage, lavish tablecloths, buckets of drinks, servers making rounds with appetizers. Glasses clinking.

The blue snowflakes glittering above the stage caught his eye as he took a seat not far from it, the voice next to him distracting him out of his thoughts as blues turned on his uninvited companion who just found a seat next to him. Livia Cardew, someone he hated. Naturally, without even having to think of the way she used to make fun of him for not having a mother. Without a doubt, she was cozying up to him to try and catch him as her dance partner when it would be time for it. The traditional ballroom dance held each year after the live act. As usual, Coriolanus wondered how he would get out of it. But especially this year, with Livia trying to work her way in and he feared he'd be stuck with her at last second. 'And who is the puny act? Hope she sings bigger than she looks.' she sneered at the brunette taking the stage, snorting to herself. The blond's gaze moved away from the other blonde and eagerly looked to whoever she was speaking about, his sight landing on the dark haired girl but unlike Livia he didn't really have a bad thought. Simply absorbing the way she really was smaller than most of the girls. Maybe that made it endearing, or should he change that thought? And she was young, probably their age. He's used to seeing older women in their 60s with their violins and boring voices take the live act, so of course he's taken by surprise and staring longer than he intended.

His mind was full of ambition ; usually occupied by his studies and he had a hard time feeling love for people outside of caring for his deceased mother and his living cousin. So he didn't really care to pay attention to females unlike his peers, even if his father would soon be pushing it. He especially wasn't looking for romance in fear of how horrible the attachment must feel once you were trapped. The lack of control it must make one feel. And then the reminder of his trust and abandonment issues always sent him quickly looking away from any potential relationships. The solitude he felt trapped behind his castle walls, was far more comfortable. So looking to the stage, enthralled by the songstress, it was the first time he had been even remotely interested in wanting to know more about another being. That's why his gaze didn't tear away and he even anticipated what her voice is going to sound like.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

💐 for robibi

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 💐 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓 MODERN VERSE Dahlia: Elegance & Commitment Lavender: Loyalty & Tranquility

" ━ Oh!"

Robin's eyes grew wide when a sudden basket of dahlia's and lavender was presented to him, sparkles of light filling his gaze as he lifted his stare from the palette of pinks and violets. He peeked up from between his white bangs and while his smile was contained, his cheeks shifted to a pale shade of flush. The assistant searched for the words to say; the last thing he'd expected to happen today was for Evelynn to burst into his office and yell to "cancel their meetings" and that it was "time for mimosas, darling!" Even less expected was the bouquet being pushed into him with a grin full of fangs and crinkled golden eyes watching him with excitement. How could he ever hope to contain the wondrous way his eyes lit up with his laughter?

"Miss Evelynn! I - What is the meaning of this?"

He peeked down at the various petals, the tips of his fingers brushing over the edges with such tender eyes. A calm came over him as the floral perfume wafted around him, his wintry lashes falling halfway and heavy while a familiar warmth spread across his skin. Robin felt his heart a-flutter. He had to find a way to return this gracious gift. But that could come later; as for now - he had an invitation to accept:

"Time for mimosas!"

[merrybrides]

Winter Wedding Bouquet Ideas

This ruby red bouquet boasts a mix of King Protea, roses, gerbera daisies, fritillaria, waxflower, silver brunia, eryngium, tulips and gorgeous greenery.

A frosty bouquet of light peach, pink and cream roses, dusty miller and silver brunia proves pastel is perfect for winter.

This stunning winter bouquet features velvety red roses, quicksand roses, lisianthus, dried bunny tails, and more. The pretty palette of deep red and blush pink was simply gorgeous.

A total winter white out has never looked so good, bursting with crisp white roses, white ferns, and draping amaranthus.

Add a little Art Deco style and a pop of color against white with peacock feathers and purple calla lilies.

This dreamy white winter bouquet is filled with white O’Hara Roses, Mona Lisa anemones, ranunculus, spray roses, Queen Anne's Lace and trailing jasmine which adds even more magic.

A gorgeous, frosty blue bouquet features roses, anemones, berries, dusty miller and silver brunia.

We're loving this winter take on a boho bouquet which features pampas grass, lunaria, olive and eucalyptus foliage, and roses.

A total winter whiteout has never looked so good, bursting with crisp white roses, white ferns, and draping amaranthus.

This ranunculus, waxflower, spray rose, muscari, and eucalyptus bouquet is paired with fragrant pine, giving it an unmistakably wintry feel.

The Christmas Rose (also known as hellebore) is such a showstopper in this bouquet. It's joined by whimsical fritillaria, roses, lisianthus, and waxflower to make the perfect winter posy.

This stunning Winter bridal bouquet of purple blooms pairs moody ranunculus, hellebores, and fritillaria for an unexpected twist on winter wedding flowers.

Splashes of deep red in this bouquet add a wintry feel. Roses, spray roses, lisianthus, eucalyptus, all tied with red and gold ribbon, add to the festive effect.

Maximize seasonal foliage with this stunning bouquet featuring eucalyptus, heather, berried ivy, anemones, roses, and ranunculus.

This classic winter bouquet is filled with roses, ranunculus, and greenery.

[auburniivenus]

Ichigo showed up at Orihime's doorstep with snowflakes in his orange hair & a faint blush on his cheeks. He had spent days rehearsing what he'd say, what he'd do in this moment but now that it had finally come, his mind just went blank-- especially as she opened the door and his brown eyes fell upon her stunning figure. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous, even though they'd been together for a while now, he could still scarcely believe she was his. That she loved him just as much as he loved her. "Hey-- " He held out the bouquet of heliotrope flowers, his face turning redder. "These... These flowers... They mean eternal love. I thought they'd be a good way to express my feelings for you and to ask you if..." He paused, nervousness making his hand tremble slightly as he reached into his jeans pocket to retrieve a small velvet box. "If you want to spend this Christmas and all the ones to come with me?" Ichigo smiled, eyes full of love & admiration searching hers. "Will you marry me?"

YOUR   LIPS   DON'T   LIE.   Within   the   confines   of   her   own   domicile,   the   solitary SYLPH of   her   demesne   stood   perched   amidst   the   culinary   crucible   of   her   kitchen.   The   aroma   of   her   creation,   an   omelette   assembled   with   the   tender   care   of   an   artist   bestowing   life   upon   canvas,   perfumed   the   air,   a   fragrant   symphony   of   pine   and   cinnamon   that   imparted   the   secrets   of   the   season.   She   contemplated   the   profound   silence   that   encompassed   the   evening,   a   lone   odyssey.   A   wisp   of   emptiness   caressed   her   heart,   as   ephemeral   and   delicate   as   a   snowflake’s   gentle   kiss   upon   the   frosted   glass   of   time,   yet   she   harbored   no   yearning   to   cast   her   shadow   upon   her   companions   or   to   intrude   upon   Ichigo’s   familial   abode.   She   sometimes   abhorred   the   concept   of   being   a   burden,   a   specter   in   the   luminous   exuberance   of   others.

As   she   conferred   the   final,   loving   flourish   upon   her   modest   banquet,   the   clarion   call   of   the   doorbell   cleaved   the   silence,   presaging   unforeseen   revelations.   With   her   auburn   wispy   locks   unfurling   like   the   fiery   train   of   a   phoenix   in   graceful   descent,   she   wafted   to   the   entrance,   her   soul   infused   with   curiosity.   Upon   flinging   open   the   door,   a   tableau   of   wonderment   bloomed   upon   her   visage,   as   resplendent   as   the   aurora   borealis   adorning   the   velvet   night.   There,   at   the   threshold,   stood   Ichigo,   an   enigma   covered   in   the   wintry   embrace,   his   arms   cradling   blossoms   that   seemed   to   have   captured   the   vernal   essence   of   Demeter’s   own   gardens.   “Ichigo,   shouldn’t   you   be   with   your   family?   I-It’s   Christmas   eve.”

Her   mane,   now   bejeweled   with   the   delicate   filigree   of   snowflakes,   were   as   a   diadem   of   heaven’s   souls   bequeathed   by   the   nocturnal   winter   herself.   Ichigo,   whose   legitimate   place   was   undoubtedly   woven   into   the   familial   mosaic   of   his   own   abode,   stood   before   her   with   a   surprise   that   outshone   the   splendor   of   the   cosmos.   With   a   query   that   hung   in   the   air   like   the   Sword   of   Damocles,   he   sought   her   hand   in   matrimony,   a   proposition   as   unforeseen   as   a   rose   courageously   blooming   amidst   the   alabaster   snow.   “M-Marry   you?   W-What?”

A   solemn   tear   of   rapture,   a   scintillating   orb   of   purest   glee,   sortied   from   the   perimeter   of   her   caramel   orbs,   etching   a   shimmering   trail   upon   her   visage   as   a   silent   ode   to   the   euphoria   burgeoning   within   her   bosom.   No   longer   would   she   face   Christmas   Eve   nestled   in   solitude;   instead,   she   would   be   encompassed   in   the   loving   embrace   of   Ichigo   and   his   kin,   not   merely   for   this   consecrated   night   but   for   all   the   Christmases   that   destiny   would   lovingly   entwine   into   their   shared   chronicle   of   existence.

Before   the   utterance   of   consent   could   grace   the   air,   before   a   whispered   ‘yes’   could   take   flight   from   her   lips,   she   engulfed   him   in   an   embrace   that   melded   all   the   love   and   luminescence   harbored   within   her   essence.   Their   embrace   was   a   citadel   against   the   tempests   of   the   world.   And   then,   with   a   fervor   that   spoke   volumes   more   than   any   sacred   vow,   she   sealed   her   assent   with   a   deep,   impassioned   osculation,   a   confluence   of   spirits   that   sang   of   pledges,   and   a   future   drenched   in   the   eternal   vermilion   hues   of   undying   affection.   “Y-Yes.   I   always   dreamed   of   being   your   wife.”   A   whispered   against   his   lips. @orangeshinigami

[spogwam]

Connection Intentions

It's exciting to get started on Connection, a social realist short focusing on the need for connection in contemporary Scotland, and how it can be found in the most unlikely of places.

Full synopsis:

Brandon lives in the heart of Leith in squalor. Living from scam to scam, he marks the days ominously on the calendar. Brandon is world-weary and introverted. He hits the streets to find a new victim. Their money is better off in his pocket anyway.

Brandon, sporting a dead man’s suit, outlines his BT scam to his latest victim Robert, an older man living on his own in a humble semi-detached house. Convinced by Brandon’s enthusiasm, Robert invites the young man in for a cup of tea to keep him going on this wintry morning.

“Aye, you ken what? That’d be barry.”

While Robert makes the tea in the adjoined kitchen, Brandon strolls around the old man’s living room, looking at old pictures, ornaments… anything that could make him an extra poppy. He is mesmerised by an antique clock for a moment. Picking up a framed picture, he quickly places it back down as Robert returns with a tray of tea and tunnocks, placing them on the table.

Brandon compliments Robert’s home and sits promptly. Brandon politely inquires about Roberts day, to which he has little to comment.

“Business aside likes, you catch Hibs Hearts on Friday?”

“It’s an absolute joke.”

They find common ground in their shared loneliness and culture.

Brandon walks home, speeding up when someone calls his name from behind him. The man cuts Brandon off, confronting him about his internet.

“BT my fuckin’ arse. Gies my money back.”

Getting his phone out and filming Brandon, he rants in warning to any locals who may have come across him.

Brandon boosts down the road, disappearing out of sight before the man can put away his phone.

“Scamming bastard!”

Brandon jogs up to an abandoned lighthouse, spotting an elf bar on the ground on the way, picking it up and having a draw.

Brandon teeters at the top of the lighthouse, looking out to the sea, puffing away on his reclaimed elf bar.

Brandon arrives at Roberts home again, and is invited straight in.

As Robert intently watches Hibs County on the TV, Brandon comes through with a tray of tea and biscuits, setting it down on the table. Hibs scores and Brandon and Robert are overjoyed.

“You fucking dancer Boyle! Up the Staggies!”

Brandon spots a framed photograph of an older woman smiling and inquires about it.

“Robbo, who’s this lovely lady you’ve got up here, eh?”

“That’s my wife, son. Lost her, what… about ten year ago now.”

“You want to see her?”

“More than anything.”

“I mean likes, the now.”

Brandon and Robert visit her graveside, leaving her a bouquet of roses.

Back at Robert’s home they each nurse a dram by the fireplace. Robert is somewhat melancholy.

“How long have you been working for the BT like?”

“All my life really.”

“You’re only what, twenty though ken?”

“Aye, family business.”

“Aye. Right.”

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a while as Robert contemplates and Brandon gulps his whisky.

“Make the most of your youth will you laddie? You can do anything you want.”

“Aye.”

Robert’s heartfelt message permeates Brandon as he fixates on the fire.

Entering his flat and locking the door behind him, Brandon hangs up his suit next to several others, still with their labels. Taking the cash from his pocket he puts it in an untouched pile.

Brandon approaches Roberts house, before knocking enthusiastically on the door. He gets no response, and continues knocking. The knocking echoes through the desolate house of stopped clocks, old cups of tea, and an empty armchair.

Brandon’s cash is missing from its usual spot.

Dressed casually, in full Hibs kit, Brandon saunters through the graveyard with a massive bouquet of flowers until he reaches Robert and his wife’s grave. Placing the flowers at the graveside, he looks thoughtful for a moment, before carefully removing his Hibs scarf and wrapping it round the bouquet.

[thebelljarwriter]

Beautiful Rose

entry for @comfy-vember that might upload tomorrow, day five !! and it's a BFUCU fic, who would've guessed

Day 5 - Saying their name — Hand on knee — Dressing fancy

summary: small snippets of Ricky Goldsworth and his daughter, Rosalie Goldsworth, based around her name.

“Rosalie.” Ricky blinked, turning his head to Aimee for a split second. It had been a day since their daughter had been born in the cold month of January, they stood over her crib one night watching their little one sleep, a nightlight was the only thing that illuminated the room and the soft melody of a music box filled the quiet. Ricky remembered the first moment he had his eyes on his newborn daughter, small and so, so new. He hadn’t been used to such a concept as being a father, if anything, he hadn’t known the basics. At first he would fear her being scared of him, a fresh scar on his cheek just right above the eye.

 But she hadn’t cried, she smiled and reached out her tiny arms towards him, giggling. 

 “I want to name her Rosalie.” Aimee said again, a weary, kind smile and kind eyes greeted Ricky, “it means… ‘beautiful rose’.” 

 It really was no secret that Aimee liked flowers, roses to be exact. The pink ones were her favorite, at her shows, oftentimes people handed her a single rose during her jazz concerts, but Ricky back then, young and hopelessly in love, had given her a whole bouquet of them. Love was a weakness he supposed, a soft spot hidden in the calloused heart he had inside. Back then, anyone who knew the infamous golden boy assumed he didn’t have a heart. Nothing behind those cold, dark eyes but a warning, a threat and a frown that meant danger. But now, those same dark brown eyes had softened at the woman he loved the most, the sun herself almost. 

 “I like that…” he whispered, he looked at the sleeping infant, a smile. “Rosalie Leah Goldsworth, I like that a lot.”

 Under the gentle hum of the melody and the faint glow of the nightlight in that wintry evening, they kissed. 

***

“Rosalie, god damn it– Rosalie!” Ricky rarely got frustrated with Rosalie, she was five at the time, of course she was, she had been becoming an energetic child, running around the house and giggling, hiding where Ricky couldn’t find her, sometimes even being assisted by her uncle who in younger sibling fashion loved annoying Ricky to no end. “Rosalie, you get back here right this instance, I’m not playing around this time–”

 He yelped, Rose slammed the closet door open that would have almost completely knocked Ricky out cold. She laughed, raising her arms up and yelling out, “boo!” Ricky had remembered the time when his mother would tell him stories from when he was five, that when Ricky was small, he’d hide in his mother’s closet and try to scare her as well. It almost never worked. Rose was growing up fast, faster than Ricky would’ve expected, it almost scared him in a way that she looked like him. Almost like a carbon copy, and yet, he saw in her eyes, he could almost see Aimee. 

 “C’mon Rosalie, get to bed.” Ricky murmured, lifting her up and carrying her upstairs. She squirmed a bit, she had been wiggly too, always trying to pry herself from his arms and continue to run around the household, laughing to herself in hopes her father would play some sort of tag. Sometimes, Ricky wondered if he was ever this hyper (and unruly) as a child, always trying to pry out of his mother’s arm just to run around, burning out any energy he had left over from the day. As a child, Ricky had always known himself to be the quiet type, keeping to himself and usually seen alone, though he was very sure Rosalie had gotten her whimsy behavior somewhere else.

 Though, thinking it over as he tucked her in, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

“Rosalie?” it was getting warmer and warmer lately, and Rosalie had seemed to be getting older and older. It was the middle of May and lately Rosalie had been spending time in the backyard of his mother’s home. Angela had been taking up gardening lessons, she had been cultivating a rose garden in her mother’s backyard and Rosalie had taken great interest in it, more often than not she’d spend her hours with Aunt Angie in the backyard, bringing all of her attention on the lovely blooms, moment Ricky saw the familiar shade of pink on the roses when they started blooming, he froze.

 Rose had been around seven at the time, at the time she had been learning to write in cursive (as recommended by Angela) and spending her days reading book after book in the dining room. It was almost dusk, the sun beginning to set over the neighborhood of Brooklyn, dinner was almost ready and Ricky knew, of course, Rosalie would’ve been in the backyard. Her back was turned from him, sitting with her legs crossed and chin on her palm, her elbow rested on her knee. Ricky stood by her, she stared at the rose bush, Ricky stiffened upon seeing those blush pink roses, trying to stop those painful memories from flooding in his brain, after a moment he knelt down next to her.

 “Rosie,” he spoke, tone soft and gentle, “c’mon, mon ange, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” 

 “Why do you call me that?” Rose asked, now turning her head towards him, her wide doe eyes now staring at him in an innate curiosity any seven year old has. Ricky furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side. Growing up, Rosalie had been given an array of nicknames, NightNight called her Rosebud, Angela had called her Rosita, and Ricky, of course, called her Rosie, sometimes even her grandmother had called her Rosa. Ricky opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, he wasn’t sure what else was an easier answer than well, your mother loved roses of course. 

 “Your…” Ricky’s voice trailed off, his fingers digging into the dirt without him knowing. The talk of her mother had always been a tricky subject, there was no way in God’s name would Ricky ever tell her what happened to Aimee, he always danced around it, giving a vague answer whenever Rosalie asked about her mother (“What happened to her?” “What was she like?” “do you think she would’ve liked me?”). Rosalie blinked, her eyes searching for an answer. Jesus christ, Ricky thought, she truly did look like her sometimes.

 “When… when you were born,” Ricky began to explain, “me and your mother couldn’t decide on a name, and then your mother suggested that you’d be named Rosalie.” 

 “But why?”

 Ricky exhaled, his fingers now clawing at the soil wishing he could get out of his conversation and just get the damn table ready, “because, Rosie, your mother loved you. The moment she had you, she thought you were the most precious thing on Earth, so she named you after something she loved just as much as she loved you, so she named you Rosalie.” After a moment of silence, he squeezed his eyes shut, his tone feeling brittle and fragile. Please don’t make me cry in front of her, Ricky prayed, please.  “She thought you were such a beautiful little girl… so why not name you after a beautiful rose.” 

 After that conversation, Ricky and Rosalie had stayed quiet during dinnertime, only NightNight rambling on and on about a job promotion at the law firm much to Angela’s annoyance. By then, Ricky was tucking Rosalie in, the night light being the only thing that illuminated the room and the soft melody of the music box filling the glum quiet. Ricky found himself with shaky hands when he smoothed the wrinkles of her blanket. 

 “Papa,” Rosalie whispered, “can I ask you something?” 

 “Hm?” 

 “What is your name?”

 Ricky blinked, and then he let out a laugh, “oh, Rosie, sweetheart, I can’t tell you that.” 

 “Why?” Rose furrowed her brow, gosh, did Ricky ever ask so many questions starting with why as a child of seven? He shook his head fondly, before placing a small kiss on her forehead. 

 “Get some sleep, okay? You have school in the morning.” Ricky stood up, using her bed frame for support as he got to his feet, Rosalie snuggled into her blanket, curling up with her head on her flower decorated pillow. 

 “Goodnight papa.” Rosalie said between a yawn, slowly drifting to sleep, Ricky leaned against her doorway, the light of the hallway outlining him like a shadow that was watching over a peaceful little sleeping soul. His expression was softened, eyes flickering with something mixed with hidden grief and delicate affection. His hand lingered on the doorknob, slowly making a soft creak as he closed it in front of him. He inhaled for a moment, and finally suspired.

 “Goodnight, Rosalie, I love you.” Ricky mumbled, he backed away, fingers finally letting go of the doorknob, “and your momma loves you too, remember that, Rosalie.”

[infoblogifyzen]

The Best Bridesmaids Flowers for Every Season

Flowers have always been a significant part of weddings, symbolizing love, new beginnings, and the delicate beauty of marriage. When it comes to bridesmaids' bouquets, the choice of flowers is as important as any other detail in the wedding planning process. Each season offers a unique palette of blooms that can enhance the theme and ambiance of your special day. In this detailed post, we'll guide brides-to-be and wedding planners through the best bridesmaids flowers bouquets in every season, ensuring your floral arrangements are both stunning and seasonally appropriate.

Spring Wedding: A Bouquet of Freshness and Color

Spring is a time of rejuvenation and growth, celebrating the end of winter with a burst of fresh floral. For spring bridesmaid's bouquets, think of incorporating flowers that mirror the season's natural vibrancy. Some ideal choices include:

Tulips: A quintessential spring flower, available in a range of colors, from soft pastels to vivid reds and yellows.

Peonies: Loved for their large, delicate petals and sweet fragrance, peonies add a touch of romance to any bouquet.

Hyacinths: Their clusters of tightly-packed, fragrant flowers are perfect for adding a sweet scent and a pop of color.

Crafting a cohesive bridesmaid’s bouquet in spring is all about celebrating the return of life with fresh, lush blooms. Mix and match your flowers to create a look that is both elegant and vibrant, embodying the joy of the season.

Summer Wedding: Durable Blooms and Bright Hues

Summer weddings often feature outdoor ceremonies and warm weather, necessitating blooms that can endure the heat and remain fresh throughout the day. Here are some top choices for summer bridesmaids:

Roses: Available year-round, roses can withstand the summer temperatures beautifully and come in a variety of shades.

Sunflowers: For a bold and cheerful option, sunflowers offer a sunny disposition and a focal point for the bouquet.

Dahlias: These full and textured blooms are available in a spectrum of lively colors, making them perfect for a summer celebration.

Summer bridesmaid's bouquets should reflect the season's playful energy with bright and bold colors. Think about combining warm hues and large, impressive blooms that can withstand the summer sun.

Fall Wedding: Warm Tones and Textured Elements

Autumn is a season of transition, with landscapes awash in warm hues. Fall bridesmaid's bouquets should capture the essence of the season with rich and textured florals:

Calla Lilies: Available in deep reds, oranges, and creams, calla lilies offer a sleek and elegant complement to a fall color scheme.

Chrysanthemums: These hardy flowers come in various shapes and sizes, adding layers and visual interest to bouquets.

Vintage Roses: Opt for roses in shades like burgundy or dusty pink to match the season's moody and sophisticated ambiance.

Consider adding seasonal elements like berries, seed pods, or even wheat to your fall bridesmaid’s bouquet for an extra touch of autumnal charm. The key here is to play with textures and layering to create a bouquet that feels abundant and warm.

Winter Wedding: Elegance in the Cold

Winter weddings often evoke a sense of magic and elegance. The flowers you choose for your bridesmaids should align with this theme, offering a timeless and sophisticated look:

Stephanotis: These dainty, star-shaped blooms symbolize marital happiness and can be threaded together for a delicate, wintry look.

Orchids: With their exotic appearance and association with love and beauty, orchids make for an elegant and long-lasting addition to any winter bouquet.

Evergreens: Incorporate sprigs of pine, holly, or eucalyptus for a nod to the festive season and a lovely, aromatic element.

Winter bouquets are all about grace and understated beauty. Choose flowers that are classic and long-lasting, with a touch of seasonal accoutrement for a magical winter celebration.

Year-Round Favorites

Some flowers transcend seasonal boundaries and remain popular choices throughout the year due to their availability and adaptability. These include:

Roses: A symbol of love and romance, roses are a versatile choice for any season.

Lilies: With their striking appearance and fragrance, lilies are perfect for adding drama to a bridesmaid’s bouquet.

Carnations: Often underappreciated, carnations come in a wide array of colors and are long-lasting, making them reliable for any season.

These year-round favorites can be combined with seasonal accents to create a bouquet that is perfect for any time of year, ensuring you have an option that is easily accessible and always beautiful.

Lenox Hill Florist - Your Seasonal Bouquet Expert

When it comes to floral arrangements for your special day, expertise and craft are quintessential. The team at Lenox Hill Florist is committed to creating breathtaking bridesmaids' bouquets that resonate with your unique style while ensuring the choice of flowers reflects the season's charm.

Lenox Hill Florist offers brides-to-be a wealth of knowledge and creativity to make their wedding day truly exceptional. With a passion for design and quality, their flowers are always fresh and their arrangements impeccable.

Selecting the perfect flowers for your bridesmaids' bouquets is an important part of creating the wedding of your dreams. The seasonal choices outlined in this post are meant to guide you in making thoughtful and impactful decisions that harmonize with the natural cadence of the year. Remember to consider the significance of each bloom, its availability, and the overall theme of your wedding. Whether you're drawn to the ethereal blossoms of spring, the sun-kissed petals of summer, the rich tones of autumn, or the elegant grace of winter, Lenox Hill Florist is here to help you select and craft the ideal bouquet. Your wedding day is a tapestry of moments — makes your floral selection a thread of beauty that binds them all together.

For more floral inspiration and to explore how Lenox Hill Florist can enhance your wedding with seasonal blooms, visit their website and schedule a consultation today. Your perfect bouquet waits, no matter the season.

[ediblegardenspointloma]

In My San Diego Garden and Kitchen

The thumbnail is a sampling of the garden bounty last week. A cousin moved from Boston to San Diego recently and this was a welcome garden gift. She’s excited to think about growing vegetables 52 weeks a year, (as in ediblegardens52).

A salad with similar harvests of four kinds of lettuce, Tuscan kale, celery and purple cauliflower came together for a dinner with family.

I harvested the last of the Premium Crop broccoli and only one DePurple cauliflower remains in the garden. The Romanesco will be ready this week.

The coincidence of magenta garden vegetables and flowers.

Some of the citrus harvests this week—Bearss limes, Satsuma tangerines and navel oranges.

Another garden salad with a gifted Fuyu persimmon and additions of roasted pistachios and perfectly ripe avocado.

A wintry white bouquet from the perennial garden for the church entry table.

If you have a few minutes, check my Resources page for Seed Sources | Favorite Garden Books | Knowledge Bases for Gardeners.

To leave a comment, click on “Leave a comment/Show comments,” enter the comment, then insert your name. Finally, click on “Comment as Guest” to post comment.

[singing-river]

“we drove towards the widening dawn, that now streaked half the sky with a wintry bouquet of pink of roses,”

— Angela Carter

[mournfulminds]

╱ starter for ❪ @waveofstars​ ❫ .

January 23rd happened to fall on a Monday that year and a day after the Lunar New Year, and although Seobin had been very busy up until that time, only seeing Marley earlier that month at a New Year's Eve party she accompanied her to; she was steadfast to whisk her away for the night ─ that was if the birthday girl did not have any other plans. Calling her a week prior when she was in California on business, and mostly to hear her voice, she inquired if she was free and if she could plan something, "nothing huge, I promise," were her resounding words, wanting it to be a surprise. When the day finally arrived, she had left a brief birthday message for Marley, knowing she had a busy day ahead of her and would pick her up at 7:30. She also made her a batch of seaweed soup, a customary dish to eat on one's birthday in South Korea and she thought the other might like it on the chilly wintry day. The thermos was situated on top of a honey cake in the front seat as she drove to Marley's loft on the other side of Seattle.

As she pushed the buzzer, Seobin inspected her appearance in the glass of the doors for the final time, clad in a dress the colour of the flowers she was holding. The bushel of lavender encased in eco-friendly paper and a bow of blue silk, hid her face as she knocked on the door, an anxious quality briefly befalling her. But she was greeted by an elegant picture, and her breath hitched as she stammered to speak, dark hues peeking from between the floral bouquet, "happy birthday, 생일 축하해요 / saeng-il chughahaeyo... là breith sona dhuit, oh gosh, I hope I'm saying that sort of right, feel free to correct me in any way." She was swayed by this figure, her heart no longer timid in its trail. "You look wholly lovely... you sure Jinny won't mind if I steal you away for the night?"

[kelseys-poshmark-closet]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: B&BW Winter Cherry Blossom ultimate body cream & mist set.