#bath and body works country apple

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bath and Body Works Country Apple Anti Bacterial Deep Cleansing Hand Soap Refill and Hand Soaps

early-mid 2000s (expires 2009)

Found on Ebay, seller snazzylabels

[heartland-sunrise]

🍎💓 Country Apple splash 💓🍎

[lovelytsunoda]

kiss me down by the broken treehouse // mick schumacher

summary: honeymoons in the midwest, heart shaped jacuzzis and scented bubble bath. this is how mick wants the rest of his life to be

pairing: mick schumacher x newlywed reader!

warnings: vague allusions to sex, two people being sickeningly in love, bathing together. nicolas cage should be a warning in itself

author's note: this is the last fic in the cozy collection and not gonna lie, it's making me very emotional. thank you for coming along for this cozy and warm, and sometimes scandalous adventure <3. i can't wait to share the christmas collection with you all.

the hotel suite was dim as she slipped the rose gold wedding band off her finger, dropping it on the dresser next to the almost identical one her husband wore.

mick was sitting by the window, lighting a tangle of scented candles as the heart-shaped jacuzzi tub filled with bubble bath.

"baby, what's all this?" she asked softly, leaning down to kiss him.

they had spent the day in town, visiting country stores and hiking trails, downing more apple cider than mick had ever thought possible. they were cold to the bone when they returned to the hotel, but that didn't stop mick from pulling his wife into bed and reminding her just how happy he was to spend the rest of their lives together.

"just another way to show how much i love you." mick hummed, reaching for the bottle of champagne he'd had room service deliver on their way back to the bed and breakfast. "i figured the best way to end the night was a nice bubble bath and a movie."

she smiled, giggling as she kissed the side of his head. "i knew there was a reason i married you."

she disentangled herself from mick, slender fingers making quick work of the belt holding her plush hotel robe together, fabric pooling over the floor and revealing her naked body to her lover.

blushing furiously, mick turned off the tap, quickly filling two champagne flutes before stripping out of his own hotel robe.

“after you, my darling wife.” he grinned, taking y/ns hand and helping her into the tub. he slipped under the bubbles after her, nuzzling into her back and pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. “ich liebe dich.”

“I love you too, mickie.”

she settled on one of the built in tub seats, smiling at her husband before she looked dreamily out the frost covered window. the trees in the vermont woods next to the hotel were dyed shades of red-orange, the colors themselves beyond breathtaking.

“whatcha starin’ at, pretty girl?” mick pondered, kissing the top of her head as he settled in next to her.

“the trees. nature. it’s beautiful. how did you manage to get a room with such a great view?”

mick shrugged. “turns out, telling the hotel you’re on your honeymoon gets you special privileges. but that view isn’t as a great as the one I had earlier when I was on top of you. or the view I have every morning when I wake up with you in my arms.”

she giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder. "mickie!"

mick laughed, kissing the side of her head before reaching for the laptop next to the tub. "how do you feel about the nicolas cage dracula movie?"

"absolutley not! when i get nightmares, are you going to nurse me back to sleep?"

"yes." mick said solemnly, loading up amazon prime on his laptop. "one hundred percent."

y/n snickered, reaching for the champagne. once mick schumacher was alseep, not even a tornado could wake him up. "babe, we both know you'd sleep right through. you sleep like a goddamn rock."

"yeah, babe. you're right. but nicolas cage is in it, it wont be that scary."

“I’m not worried about it being scary; I’m worried about it being gory.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of champagne. “if I start watching ‘renfield’ through my fingertips, you’re on your own, mickie.”

mick giggled, hitting the play button before pulling his wife into his lap. “consider me warned. we can watch the original halloween afterwards.”

“you’ve got yourself a deal, husband.” she laughed, passing him a champagne flute.

the room was small and cozy, lit only by the blue glow from micks laptop and the candles around the bath, the air filled with the calming scents of vanilla, cinnamon and pumpkin. micks gentle fingers trailed up and down her thigh as they watched the movie together, sipping champagne and enjoying each others company.

every so often, mick filled the silence with a small praise, a gentle kiss against his wife’s skin. it was still so surreal to him that he would get to hold her in his arms, every day, for the rest of his life.

she rested her head on his shoulder, placing the empty glass back on the ledge outside the tub before she properly folded her body against his, fingertips mindlessly tracing shapes on his chest, the fine blonde hairs dotting his pecs matted to his skin by the water, a few errant bubbles still stark against his skin.

she loved him, truly madly and deeply.

it seemed like just yesterday they had met each other, although it had been almost four years. four great years of love and laughter and highs and lows. and in a blink of an eye, there she was, in her white dress, in micks arms as they danced to a bryan adams song.

four years of feelings she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the joy of feeling for another living, breathing person. and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

when the movie was half over, candle wax dripping into hardwood and the bubbles all faded away from the lukewarm water, skin dried out and pruny, only then did the newlyweds emerge from the heart-shaped tub.

micks touch was gentle as he helped his wife dress in her long, pale nightdress, silk dusting the carpet as she pulled down the handmade quilt, ready to fold herself into bed next to her husband.

he slipped into bed next to her, laying the laptop down in front of them. his fingers played with her hair, twirling strands around her finger before he began to lazily braid a small section, the last half of the movie playing on the small screen.

“mick?”

“yeah?”

“I’m so excited to spend my future with you.”

“me too, Liebling.” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “we’ve got so much to look forward to.”

BONUS

y/nschumacher ❤️🍂

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @diorleclerc @userlando @thatsdemko @oconso @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre

[bluecanvasshoe]

I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive

Chapter 5 of Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed)

Red Dead Redemption 2 x reader

Warnings: Animal death, blood, panic attacks, ptsd?, guns, alcohol relapse, trauma, passing out, drunk people, angst in general

Summary: You desperately keep your mind off of the gang, but bad things seem to follow you regardless. You lose a lot, but maybe you gain some, too.

Word count: 2.7k

Title from 'I'll Never Get Out Of This World Alive' by Hank Williams

Previous chapter | Next chapter

A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry this took a while. My lungs decided to stop working and one of my pets died, so I've been struggling to write. Hopefully we like this one!

----

Days had passed.

Your back is killing you, and the insides of your thighs are irritated from constant riding. 

The gang still plagued your thoughts, but it became too painful to think about. Anytime they’d weasel into your brain, your mind would shut everything out again.

The weather was a gamble each day; the damp forests of West Elizabeth were rainy and cold. The trees would act as a canopy from rainfall, but thick branches would become heavy with rain and dump whatever water they'd been holding onto you and your horse. Thanks to the late spring season, mosquitoes terrorized you constantly. Irritated red bumps came and went on any exposed skin.

Past the forests of West Elizabeth were the Heartlands, a dusty, dry environment. 

Valentine was a nice break from the riding, and you managed to get a hotel room, a bath, and a hot meal for a night before having to move on. You would’ve taken odd jobs to earn a bit more money, but a strange, frantic anxiety tugged at your heart; you couldn’t waste more time than you already had.

And now, here you are. Riding through the Heartlands to Lemoyne.

Your eyes hurt, and the sun has only just reached the middle of the sky. You almost feel nauseous, something in you begging to stop. But when you do, your heart starts beating that frantic rhythm, and you can’t seem to sit still.

Your horse is likely tired, but he’s been treated kindly; frequent stops for water and a near-constant stream of treats or food kept him in higher spirits than you.

When you were forced to spend a night resting, he’d keep you company by nudging your shoulder and huffing. You’d feed him an apple or an oatcake as a treat, satisfying the horse.

The days dragged on, and your mind grew incredibly weary.

Still, as you saw dry ranch country turn to rolling meadows, it was hard to deny how beautiful the scenery was.

An old, crinkled map was held in your hands. You had to keep an eye out for landmarks, anything to help you guide yourself to Saint Denis as fast as possible. 

Birds chirped too loud, and the occasional yowl of a fox was heard. Your horse’s hooves languidly hit the ground, steadily carrying you closer to Saint Denis. 

Your gear clinked and jostled with each step, the sound practically becoming background noise.

You tried to distract your exhausted mind with songs, but couldn’t remember much past the first few lyrics of most. Your head fell forward, and you blinked yourself awake. 

Your horse grunted, huffing with a flip of his mane. Your head lifted, the aching vertebrates of your neck supporting your overly heavy noggin.

Just a bit longer, you told yourself.

—

It was getting close to dusk, and the lights of a town entered your vision. It was Rhodes; you were undoubtedly close to Saint Denis.

With a click of your tongue and a gentle nudge of your spur, your horse quickened his pace.

You neared the small town, the sound of crickets mingling with faint chatter. Streetlights lined the main road, and cute buildings framed the paths. Reaching the red, dusty paths of Rhodes, you froze.

A white building stood not far away.

You walked past that one a few years ago.

You remember looking at that building.

You distinctly remember hearing a gunshot, and a whir of red cross your vision. Something hit the ground, a bag of bones and flesh.

Your body tensed, knuckles turning white and clenching your horse’s reins. Your already frazzled mind was startled when the sound of a boot hit the ground, and it instinctively urged your hand onto where the holster of a gun would be on your belt; if you��d bought a revolver, that is. 

Your head snapped to the side, surprising an approaching man. Frantic eyes darted around.

Your chest heaved, your vision caving in as white crept in around your eyes. Your hands trembled and your heart beat horribly fast. Everything suddenly felt too close, and you had trouble focusing your eyes.

The man in front of you waved his hand. “Howdy, miss, er, I’m not quite sure how to say this, but have we met before? You seem awfully familiar.”

“Met before…?” you muttered.

Shit. He remembers you from when the gang shot up the town in 1899.

He’s getting the law. They’re probably close, with their shotguns and horses and you’ll be put up in the gallows. You’ll die here or rot in prison. 

You idiot.

It’s your fault that you’ve been caught; maybe you shouldn’t have come here. 

This is a nightmare. This isn’t happening.

“Miss?” He said. You couldn’t make out his expression; everything was a blur.

A door opened not far away; bar music stopped. Glass broke. Men shouted at each other.

At you?

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t talk; everything mixed together. White clouded your vision, your eyes hazy. Nothing is processed through your brain. Not the desperate command you gave your horse nor the worried call of the man behind you. Dust kicked up as your horse grunted; that didn’t register, either.

You blinked, and you were suddenly riding as fast as you could. Pitch dark surrounded you.

Distant shouts were heard in the background; from what, you couldn’t make out. Only one thing was on your mind; the law was coming.

You looked over your shoulder, and your horse hit a tree. You were sent tumbling, rolling on the ground amidst soil and brush. 

After a moment, your limbs began to work again. A horrible ache resonated through you, your stomach and lungs empty as you gasped for air.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, getting to your feet and running to your horse.

You could barely walk as your legs shook violently. You stumbled to the ground, crawling the rest of the way toward the horse lying on the soil. Trembling, unsteady hands roamed his neck and eventually his head, eyes zeroing in on the blood spilling.

Your ears hardly picked up how the pained cries of the animal died out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” you chanted, your voice coming out as a choked plea. 

“What do I- what do I do? I can’t…” you heaved, hands clammy.

You leaned forward, resting your head against the horse’s shoulder. Your mind raced, and you could barely think. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Nausea crept up your throat, and you had to look away. Gathering your things as fast as possible, you stood and ran.

You stumbled over tree roots and uneven terrain, branches and plants brushing at your ankles. You’d usually jump in surprise, but your heart is pumping too fast and too hard to make out any sensation other than the desperate flutter in your stomach.

Your legs gave out not five minutes later, leaving you defenseless, exhausted, and hurt on the forest floor.

You became lightheaded, unable to bring in enough air.

Your hands grasped at your throat, and it suddenly felt like your lungs were choking themselves.

You wheezed violently, but air refused to go further than your mouth despite the quick succession of your breaths.

A hand searched for something; you didn’t know what. 

Your body hit the ground.

—

When you awoke, your head felt as if it had split open. Like you had been pelted at the earth, a stone cracking your skull and crushing your bones.

You sit up with squinted eyes and quickly realize you’re in a forest; how did you get here?

Looking to the ground, you spot your bag and rifle. Thank god.

The sounds of nature surround you as if you hadn’t existed there at all; birds chirped and animals yowled, running across the forest floor. Sunlight filtered in through tall, leafy trees and hit the ground in dotted shadows. 

Stumbling to your feet, you gasp in surprise when a sharp pain shoots up the bone of your ankle, sending you down again. A memory comes back to you; white creeping around your vision and overwhelming dark, black night. You trip over a tree root but keep running anyway. There’s no pain.

You groan, your upper body hitting the ground again. 

Your horse. 

You run your dirtied hand down your face; it hardly matters, considering you likely have a week’s worth of sweat, dust, and who knows what else covering your body. It was your fault; of course it was. You did something stupid. You’re paying the price.

Getting up carefully to avoid irritating your ankle, you grab your bag and decide to find a road. It doesn’t take long to find a dirt path next to a rolling meadow with fresh horse tracks; hopefully, it was used often.

Your prayers are answered when a young man comes riding on a shoddy cart, a shire pulling the wagon. The wheels clatter as they roll, the links and parts of the horse’s tack clinking like bells or a ring of old keys.

“Sir!” you wave him down, balancing on one foot to the best of your ability.

He slows the large horse with a click of his tongue, appraising you with scrutiny. He scrunches his large nose, his mouth curving downwards. His cheeks are covered in sunburn-afflicted freckles, a tan covering the high planes of his face. A brown hat sat upon tawny hair. “You alright there?” He asks.

“Um, yeah,” you mumbled, looking back at the forest briefly. “Look, sir, my horse, uh… you see, he died a little further... in the forest, and I need to get to Saint Denis. Are you heading in that direction?” you sounded more desperate than you preferred, your voice more pleading than it was asking a polite question.

He looked at the back carrying splintered crates and labeled burlap sacks, sighing before shuffling to the side. “I’ll getcha there,” he nodded. 

You loaded the small bag and rifle you had onto the seat, stepping up and into the rickety driver’s bench. “Thank you, sir,” you smiled, though you’re sure it came off as more of a grimace.

You probably smell awful; you probably look awful, too. 

The closer you get to Saint Denis, the swampier the air is. Maybe the stench can cover you? Are you really that bad?

…Probably.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you, occasionally jostling and bumping into each other within the tight confines of the bench. 

“So, uh… Why’re you headin’ to Saint Denis?” The man awkwardly piped up, not looking away from the beige, dusty road.

You blink for a moment, your brain processing at the speed of a snail. “I’ve got some family. A distant uncle,” You settled upon the idea of estranged relatives, hoping he’d buy it. He seemed to be convinced if the nod and an absence of suspicion was something to go off of.

“I see. Um, my pa’s got a sister who lives there. I’ve hardly met her, can’t say I’m looking for her.” He said, adjusting the hat on his head. Sunlight shined upon your backs, heating up the top of your scalp uncomfortably.

You sighed, brushing your hair back in hopes that it’d lay flat. “Why not?” 

“I ain’t ever met her.” He shrugged. “My name’s Martin.”

You nodded at his introduction, your hands settling upon your knees. You introduced yourself, clearing your throat. 

The conversation between the two young adults soon flowed into something comfortable, a nice distraction amidst a warzone of a mind.

Fields and meadows surround you and the boy, golden sunlight bringing out hidden hues of trees and flowers. It’s peaceful.

—

The smoke-filled streets of Saint Denis soon enveloped you. A faint haze of grey shrouded the city you came to hate, the smell of smoke and sewers filling your aching sinuses.

“I’ve never liked this place,” you said, shaking your head.

Martin tilted his head. “Really? I’m not against bein’ in the big city.” His voice carried an indifferent lilt as he shrugged.

“It’s not that I hate cities,” you corrected, looking at the working-class folks who wandered the streets. “I just hate the atmosphere of this city in particular.”

“Hate’s an incredibly strong word,” Martin pointed out, almost sounding cheeky. “Are you sure it ain’t a subtle dislike? You can’t hate it.”

“I do hate it.” You insisted, watching the people go about their lives.

Some swept streets, and others took a smoke break from their smoke-filled factory jobs. Haughty men on horses occasionally passed by, his lips turned in a grimace as he looked upon those he deemed less than himself; he who works four days a week and sips tea from delicate china. The muddy streets squelch and it’s a wonder how no one loses their footing. Big, proud signs and murals display the names of companies, their establishing dates set an unimpressive twenty years prior.

Martin stops, pulling to the side of a polluted street. “I ought to drop all this off. I’ll leave you here.”

Gathering your things hastily, you step down from the wagon and look back up at him with what you hoped was a grateful look. “Thank you, Martin. I uh, I really do appreciate your help.” 

“Don’t thank me, miss, it was nothin’. Good luck findin’ your uncle.” He replies humbly, clicking his tongue with a small flick of the reins. The large shire horse begins walking again, its steady gait carrying them away and down the corner of a street.

You look around where you were dropped off, vaguely remembering how to navigate the muddy labyrinth. The lonely grey of the sky presses upon the looming structures of connected buildings, the sad atmosphere of workers weighing on you almost immediately. With a sigh from your nose, you turn and set off to find the nearest bar.

Just this once, you tell yourself. Just one time, you’ll be fine.

—

You have hardly any money in your bag anymore.

The bartender scoffs, his lips curled in disgust as he ushers you from the warmly lit bar. You stumble onto the streets, swirling vision and muddled mind altering your surroundings. Sunlight invades your eyes.

You lean against a wall, ignoring the awful ache of your ankle as you try to collect your thoughts.

God dammit. Charles is waiting!

Your heart rapidly increases its beating, and you push yourself from your support.

You stumble down cracked and uneven sidewalks, vaguely remembering the area in which the fighting ring was reported.

Your confused, hazy mind gets you there, and totally not because you stopped multiple strangers on the road and asked for directions.

You find a white-bricked building, a path curving around it. Tripping through, you’re met with a rotting, wooden apartment and staircase, the ground packed with dirt and framed by flimsy fencing.

A muffled shouting comes from further down, and you get yourself there after ignoring the shouts of strangers around you.

Shouting? 

The law?

Nah. Probably not.

“Charles!” You call, your voice slurred.

A crowd fills your vision, men erupting into a cacophony of cheers for a person beyond your sight. Another, however, takes your attention.

Your befuddled mind couldn’t believe what it was seeing.

Charles was speaking to a man. He was a little ways away from the onlookers, their backs turned. 

“You’re a killer, Charles. Remember that.” a man with a moustache said, a hand on your old friend’s shoulder. Upon hearing footsteps, the stranger giving the pep talk narrowed his eyes that landed on you. “I’ll… be off now…?” He said, turning away and walking towards the loud group.

Charles sighs before noticing you. 

“Charles!” you cheered.

His eyes widened, and he said your name with an air of disbelief; said shock quickly morphing into exasperation and his own kind of worry when you threw yourself at him.

“Charles! I’ve been- Charles, I’ve been looking for you, Charles,” you smiled lopsidedly, looking up at the long-haired man. He furrowed his brows, unsure of what to do. 

Carefully pushing you off of him, he sighs.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, surely recognizing you. “Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I’m not,” you slur, shaking your head with a goofy expression.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, grabbing one of your shoulders and guiding you away from the crowd. He stopped at some crates, putting on a blue shirt and a leather vest. Another man wearing a brimmed hat approached him. They exchanged words your brain couldn’t quite process before Charles turned back to you.

He led you outside the alleyway, stopping when you crouched down unexpectedly.

“What? Are you alright?” He asked, bending at the waist.

You don’t remember anything after that.

---

Taglist:

@gallantys, @justsomereaderwholikesanime, @shackspossum, @photo1030

[formerly-windblume]

For more TWST Shenanigans please join the Discord Server!

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Epel Felmier - Apple Child (Head Canons)

Epel has had more than his fair share of trips to the nurses office due to being rough and rowdy in PE- the amount of times he’s scratched up his elbows and knees or bloodied his little nose is enough to give Vil grey hair and a heart attack.

Despite being a rough and tough country boy, he is genuinely very gentle at heart and befriends animals easily.

He has a special affinity for bunnies, they are practically drawn to him.

Sometimes when he’s all alone he hums a small song from home, his grandmother taught him “I’m Wishing” and he hums it whenever he misses his MeeMaw.

He sleeps looking like a baby, both of his fists are loose by his face with one clutching his poison apple pillow. Do NOT say he looks cute- like a kitten he will bite!

Epel = Spicy Kitten with extra ferocious murder mittens.

The quilt on his bed was made by his grandmum for him when he was younger and he has not parted with it since.

Much like Riddle, he has been called every short person nickname there is.

He is very much like a bunny, he will get all thumpy when he is angry.

Very, and I mean very squishy face!!

He has called Vil “mum” more than once and is absolutely embarrassed by the fact he’s done it without thinking. (Vil takes that as a compliment)

After what happened at STYX, Epel was quite honestly traumatized and never wanted to part from Vil’s side for at least a week or two after the situation. Vil even caught Epel outside his door one morning fast asleep, he could not help but awe at the sight and feel his heart break a bit at the sight knowing how Epel felt.

Epel secretly admires the Fairest Princess (Snow White) and adores how she, like his MeeMaw, can bake amazing pies.

Flexes his muscles in front of the mirror every morning just to see if he got stronger.

Measures himself constantly to see if he’s gotten a growth spurt.

Once he ate so much meat that he got a major stomach ache, he learned his lesson- only for a little while…

Epel has come back to Pomefiore looking like an absolute mess because he decided to be a little rough on his broom and ended up taking a mud bath. Vil was furious with him for that.

Epel calls his grandmother and family before bedtime just so he can hear their voices.

Epel gets along well with Silver, he’s even asked Silver for help in learning to use a sword because he wants to become stronger and manlier. Silver just is happy to have a new training partner.

He is Vil’s favourite whether he likes it or not.

He has accidentally called Rook “dad”.

Epel has a really hard time falling asleep again if he has a nightmare and will suffer eye bags and exhaustion because of it.

His worst nightmare ever was from when he was a child and he ate a poison apple in his dream, that nightmare comes back to haunt him on occasion.

Despite hating his adorableness, Epel is a master of the “puppy eyes” and uses them from time to time if he really, really wants something.

Sometimes he hums a tune when he cleans or does chores.

Ticklish on his feet and underarms. Tickle him and you will hear the wildest laughter in all of Twisted Wonderland.

His Bath and Body Works scent is either Whiskey Reserve or Champagne Apple & Honey (or anything in the fall collection)

He has a candy and beef jerky stash under his bed.

[rabbitcruiser]

Candle Day

Candles offer more than just light — fill your home with sweet scents and transform any space into a warm oasis.

For those who absolutely love the joy of lighting candles to provide warm, soft light as well as a delightful fragrance to their homes, especially in winter time, Candle Day is a beautiful way to usher in the cooler season.

History of Candle Day

Typically celebrated on the first Saturday of December, Candle Day was founded by the American retail company, Bath & Body Works. Originally owned by the Limited Brands, which also owns brands such as Victoria’s Secret and Abercrombie & Fitch, the first store in the Bath & Body Works chain was opened in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1990.

Selling products for the body, as the name implies, the company grew rapidly and now runs more than 2000 stores all over the world, 1600 of which are in the United States.

Bath & Body Works is a brand that is particularly beloved for its amazing scents that have a wide range of popularity, from fruity scents to flowers and also offering a line for men. Some of the most popular scents have been Sweet Pea, Japanese Cherry Blossom, Cucumber Melon and Country Apple.

Within these popular scent lines, as well as many others, are many products such as body lotions, fragrances, room sprays and, of course, candles. And for many people, Candle Day is one of the best times of the year to celebrate at Bath & Body Works because that’s when they hold some of their best sales.

Because the season for Christmas and other winter holidays often includes gift-giving, and because candles make incredible gifts, Candle Day was started in 2013. Plus, it’s a great time to simply stock up on candles for the cold, winter months.

So get ready for the fun and celebration of Candle Day!

How to Celebrate Candle Day

Candle Day offers a variety of options for just about any personality, whether looking for some time to spend at home or getting out and taking advantage of various sales. Consider celebrating with some of these ideas:

Light a Candle

Candles can bring so much comfort and warmth to a room, especially if they also envelop the room with a cozy and delicious scent. Fragrances such as Champagne Toast, Cinnamon Apple, or Strawberry Pound Cake are a lovely way to enjoy the day.

Buy a Candle (or Several!)

Head to the local Bath & Body Works to get access to their Candle Day sales and discounts, or look them up online and have the products delivered directly. This annual event typically provides customers with the opportunity to get the brand’s most famous 3-wick candles at a deeply discounted price. Other brands, such as Yankee Candle, may also be offering special prices in honor of Candle Day.

Give a Candle for Candle Day

What a great time to delight and surprise someone with a little present in honor of Candle Day! Find out which scents are a friend’s favorite and get them a large winter-themed pillar candle in honor of the season. Or leave a small votive on the desk of a coworker as a little bit of encouragement.

Source

[y2kradiocannibal]

What We Smelled Like in Y2K

(Circa 1994 - 2004)

Adidas

Eau de Toilette

Bath & Body Works

Country Apple Body Spray

Cucumber Melon Body Spray

The Body Shop

White Musk

Vanilla Perfume Oil

Calgon

Hawaiian Ginger Body Mist

Calvin Klein

Eternity

Obsession

One

Candie’s

For Her

Clinique

Happy

Coty

Exclamation

Davidoff

Cool Water

Debbie Gibson

Electric Youth

Drakkar

Noir

Elizabeth Arden

Sunflowers

Estee Lauder

Pleasures

Gap

Dream

Heaven

Giorgio Armani

Acqua di Gioia

Jean Paul Gaultier

Classique

Juice Bar

Body Spray

Gucci

Envy

Rush

Liz Claiborne

Curve

Love’s

Baby Soft

Mugler

Angel

Ralph Lauren

Ralph

Revlon

Charlie Red

Spice Girls

Impulse Body Spray

Tommy Hilfiger

Tommy Girl

Versace

Red Jeans

[eva-knits12]

A Throwback Fragrance From Bath and Body Works

I've had this body spray under the sink since 2015, just waiting to be used. This was one of Bath and Body Works original fragrances back in the '90's. I wore this, along with the country apple, sunripened raspberry, and the cucumber melon.

The fragrance is called Juniper Breeze starts out as nice and woodsy, then goes into a nice and fruity scent, then goes into a green scent. Its one of my favorites, and reminds me of a men's cologne. It reminds me something Andy Barber would wear.

[yesimwriting]

What would you say is best friend reader’s signature scent? The perfumes she’d commonly buy and soap brand she bathes with

anon i am absolutely obsessed with this question and you for asking it, it's so creative and i think perfume/soap choices say sm about a person

i see best friend reader as leaning into the warmer "spunkier" side of classics, so ig what i'm saying is she's a little avant-garde in the way she presents herself/wants to come across

i got a little excited breaking down my reasoning and describing scents,, so i'm putting the straight forward answer here and my logic below the cut:

perfume: juicy couture eau de parfum and/or dior j'adore

body wash: bath and body works' warm vanilla sugar and/or country apple and mango mandarin

in perfumes/scents i think the vibe i described above translates into a vanilla base and floral notes but in a fun way and while i don't see best friend reader following every trend, she's still very much an embracer of early-to-mid 2000's culture

combining all of that, i think her signature scent could be the juicy couture eau de parfum!! this perfume is rooted in a vanilla and woods base with notes of fruity white floral (specifically green apple and mandarin) (fun fact, i have its sister scent "viva la juicy" and love it,, but the stronger floral/fruity notes of the og make it feel more best friend reader)

i can also see best friend reader regularly using dior j'adore, it's more fruity and floral than vanilla but still very that girl and classic while still being fun

i couldn't find too much online about early 2000's soaps/body washes so i'm not sure how accurate this will be but i can see best friend reader being into bath and bodyworks,, specifically warm vanilla sugar body wash, and maybe country apple or mango mandarin body wash/lotion during the summer when she's feeling a little more nature-based

[nancypullen]

Geez

It's the 19th of May and I haven't posted since late April. That's a sad state of affairs on this ol' blog. Since my last post we have celebrated Jamie's birthday and Mother's Day, two noteworthy occasions. In the near future we have Tyler's birthday, Father's Day, and Matt's upcoming trip to Ireland. Plenty to look forward to and celebrate, June should be a delight. On Saturday the library hosted a celebration of our renovations and re-opening (even though they been open since January). There was a ribbon cutting, food and drink, and a good crowd. I spent five hours in the children's area applying glitter tattoos to lots of small hands and arms.

This little guy was thrilled with his glittery blue Batman emblem. He stole my heart.

I actually put lots of books into those little hands as well, so mission accomplished. After working all week and then surviving enjoying a busy Saturday I didn't do much of anything on Sunday. We browsed the auction house. Do I need this globe?

Probably not. I'll bet the countries are outdated and if it doesn't open up and become a James Bond style liquor cabinet, what good is it? I'm 100% sure that I don't need this gal around giving me body issues.

Is it just me, or does she kind of look like Caitlin Jenner? I talked the mister into cruising into the Starbucks drive-thru while we were out. I'd had a headache for two days, and darned if an iced caramel macchiato didn't cure it. I guess there's something to be said for caffeine and sugar. I enjoyed every drop. Once home, Mickey went to his office to work on photos and I puttered. I checked out the gardens and gave everything a pep talk. The mister has been murdering moles so I have high hopes that the grass will fill in and flourish. At this point I'm willing to spray paint the dirt green. I ended up on the porch, which is looking so pretty. I'll have to snap some pics and share them. I don't know why a pretty porch makes me so happy, but it does. For dinner I cut up some chicken thighs and made bourbon chicken in a skillet - no actual bourbon involved. It's basically that yummy food court chicken. The recipe is apple juice, apple cider vinegar, low sodium soy sauce, ginger, garlic, pepper, and brown sugar. After the chicken cooked I thickened the sauce with a little cornstarch slurry and served it over rice. I topped it with a little diced green onion and sesame seeds to make it pretty. Normally I'd have tossed in some broccoli florets but I didn't have any. There was a crunchy cucumber in the frig so I sliced that up for our veggie. I probably should have made a salad, but I'm just so dang tired. I've started questioning my Oregon Trail viability. That was always how I judged my health/fitness - whether or not I'd survive walking beside a wagon for four or five months. I knew I could do it, even enjoy some of it. Now I know I'd be jumping off at the first trading post. I'd be selling maps in Missouri at the jumping off point. I don't feel good, I don't look good, and I'd just be dead weight in the wagon. Leave me, save yourselves. All of that to say that I've become a bit of a bore. I work most days and get home after six (sometimes eight) and my routine is the same - eat dinner, watch Jeopardy, take a hot bath, read in bed. Ho hum. Where's the fun? I've lost my magic. I really need to find my way back to playing with words and paint and paper. I miss it. I feel like a hypocrite saying that. Before taking the position at the library, I was lonely, isolated, longing for friends, and looking for a purpose in this dull town. Now I get to talk and laugh with nice people at work, I certainly have a lot to do, there aren't enough hours in the work day to finish everything (I have a deadline hanging over my head right now that is stressing me out!), and I actually do feel a little appreciated. The paycheck is a nice bonus. So I suppose I got what I wished for, I just didn't want it nine hours a day. I don't have a life. Right now the library is very short staffed, and I think everyone is stretched thin. Most people have no idea of how much work is involved in keeping a public library not just open, but relevant. The programs that we offer, the community outreach, the technology that we have to stay on top of, the daily tasks of keeping track of a large inventory, fielding reference questions from patrons and finding the resources and answers they need, processing materials that come and go in large tubs, the list goes on and on and that doesn't even include just the regular check-ins and outs. My calendar also includes a lot of children's programs - tomorrow I'm working with Petite Picassos, another day I'll be making bee hotels with a group of twenty, don't even ask about Bubblepalooza (guaranteed bad hair day). I've actually managed to get a month ahead in gathering materials and planning for displays. I have some birds to paint, but otherwise I'm ready. Getting ahead on some things means putting others at a lower priority - which is why I have an online training class for Beanstack, the software we'll use for all of our summer reading programs, still on my to-do list. I'm supposed to have it completed by the 22nd. Maybe if I don't get it done they'll fire me.

I just want my life back. Not even all of it, maybe just half. I wanted to be a volunteer. Help.

Okay, I've whined enough. It's past time to get my clothes ready for the morning, pack a little lunch, and pray that the building burns down overnight. Just kidding. Kind of. Sorry for this mess of a post, I just wanted to keep this blog alive. It tells the story of my life since 2007 and I'd hate to let it fade away now. I suppose everything runs its course, but I'm not ready yet. Thanks for staying this long and reading this far. Sending out lots of love tonight. I hope it finds you. I also hope that joy finds you - we can all use a healthy dose of that. It's most often homemade. I'll be back during the weekend. Until then, stay safe, stay well, stay hopeful. XOXO, Nancy

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bath and Body Works Country Apple Mini Body Cream (listing also includes the full size)

early 1990s

Found on Ebay, seller scot.eiche

[historian-in-pearls]

Bath & Body Works is releasing some of its classic scents again, so I’ve been collecting vintage bottles from the 90s (on left, much cuter packaging) and refilling them with the new stuff. I regret nothing and can’t wait for Country Apple, Sun Ripened Raspberry, and Cucumber Melon to arrive 🎉

CC @bbwheartland

[daynascullys]

🐰💕🎂🍯

🐰 - do you believe in soul mates? I do in the sense of "whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." Not necessarily romantic soul mates, but I do believe in soul mates!

💕 - are you crushing on someone? all the people you see me blogging about lmaoooo

🎂 - if you had three wishes, what would they be?

for covid to be over/not have happened

fix the things causing suffering (world peace, in a sense)

enough money to not have to work so I could afford to do things that currently wouldn't earn enough to pay rent

🍯 - describe your favorite smell My favorite bath & body works scents are country apple and nectarine mint! both discontinued I think 😭

send me an emoji!

[thewhiskersonkittens]

Does anyone know a very specific aesthetic that's kinda like what shows like Dawson's Creek and Deana Carter's "Strawberry Wine" music video had? Like what do you call this? Is there a specific name for it? The vibe is very mid to late 90s, or very early '00s. It's a very cozy, warm vibe. It's like afternoon spring/summer sunshine peeking through a screen door. The sound of a mourning dove as you wake up on a Saturday morning. A house filled with wood furniture and the only phones are landlines and/or rotary. The Internet is still dial-up. You still make most of your social connections in person. You smell like old school Bath and Body Works like Cucumber Melon or Juniper Breeze or Country Apple. A childhood friend who gradually becomes to mean so much more. The newness of a first love, first kiss, first everything. Your parents are still relatively young and it hasn't really dawned on you yet that they won't be around forever. Time seems to stand still. You think things will always be the same. You can't wait to grow up but it also completely terrifies you.

Maybe it's not an "aesthetic " but just plain nostalgia for my childhood/teen years. 😭

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

37% of the web is porn.

Sex burns 360 calories per hour.

Baths kill more people than terrorists.

Earth has lost 50% of its wildlife in the past 40 years.

The big bang was quieter than a Motorhead concert.

Men are biologically hardwired to fall asleep after sex.

100,000 Japanese people disappear without trace every year.

The brain naturally craves four things: food, sex, water and sleep.

A blue whale can swallow half a million calories in a single mouthful.

The literal meaning of “Once in a blue moon” is once every 2.7 years.

The number of emails is expected to reach 376 billion daily by 2025.

In North Korea, the sentence for getting caught watching porn is death.

Being alone weakens your body. Having friends strengthens your body.

British people inserting things up their bums costs the NHS £350,000 a year.

The Peter Principle holds that people are always promoted beyond their ability.

Studies show that the average man exaggerates the length of his penis by 20%.

In 1997, Bill Gates invested $150 million in Apple to save it from going bankrupt.

According to a 2014 study, shorter men report that they have more sex. (No comment.)

On average people are 2 inches shorter and 20% poorer than they claim to be online.

Friendship has more influence on longevity than exercise, diet, heart problems and smoking.

In 1973, China had an excess of females and offered the U.S. 10 million Chinese women.

In 2011, a lorry crashed on the M1 spilling enough Marmite to cover 24 million slices of toast.

Eminem wrote and recorded ‘The Real Slim Shady’ three hours before his album was due.

To test what happens when someone sits on their phone, Samsung has a robot shaped like a bottom.

India used to be the richest country in the world until the British invasion in the early 17th Century.

In 2006, Liechtenstein accidentally found 0.3% more of their country when they remeasured their borders.

The more you hide your feelings, the more they show. The more you deny your feelings, the more they grow.

A study has found that friends-with-benefits relationships are just as sexually satisfying as marital relationships.

Marrying your best friend eliminates the risk of divorce by over 70%. These marriages are more likely to last a lifetime.

According to new research, your cat will happily take treats from your enemies. Your dog, however, will not.

At the 1968 Olympics, Bob Beamon broke the long jump record by so much they had to find another tape measure.

Emotional pain lasts for 10 to 20 minutes, anything longer is actually self-inflicted by over thinking, making things worse.

In 1900, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle caught fire during a cricket match at Lord's. The ball hit a box of matches in his pocket.

You may gain 20% more muscle strength by working out in the afternoon instead of the morning, according to a study.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), an estimated 619,000 people die each year due to heat stroke.

‘The Shawshank Redemption’ has been rated the best movie of all time according to IMDb, with a rating of 9.2/10.

There are 67.1 million tracks sitting on music streaming services that, in the 2022 calendar year, attracted 10 or fewer streams.

Alfred Hitchcock, the master of suspense, who terrified audiences with movies like ‘Psycho’ and ‘The Birds’ was frightened of eggs.

The most expensive movie ever made is ‘Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides’ (2011) with a budget of $378.5 million.

When pirate Jean Lafitte (c. 1780 – c. 1823) saw that the governor of Louisiana had offered $500 for his successful capture, Lafitte put up flyers offering $1500 for the capture of the governor.

A ‘binfluencer’ is a person on a street who takes the lead in putting out the correct waste and recycling bins on the correct day, thus prompting neighbours to follow suit. (My next door neighbour is one!)

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[definitionsfading]

I'm really intrigued about that bedding poll (or your tags that is) because I know bedding culture varies so much even between european countries (I had an exchange student from Italy once and because I had been to Italy first and had been rather overwhelmed with how to use the bed there, I was aware enough to ask if she knew how "the bed worked" when we were about to go to bed at night and she just looked at me helplessly and said "no" lol) - anyway I have two questions:

1) that flat sheet (which I have never heard of before in my entire life): do you lie between the fitted sheet and the flat sheet or between the flat sheet and the duvet?

2) did the duvets in England have no duvet covers?!

in America if you buy a set of sheets at the store, every single standard set comes with two pillowcases, a fitted sheet that goes around the mattress, and then a flat sheet that goes between the fitted sheet and the duvet lol. this is without exception! the flat sheet gets tucked under the corners of the mattress at the foot of the bed so it stays put while you sleep, but you can still pull it back and get into bed as needed up at the head of the bed. 1) we lie between the fitted sheet and the flat sheet, and the duvet or blanket goes on top of the flat sheet. lying between them prevents body oils and other things (heavy lotions, etc) from getting directly on the duvet or the blanket. it's just general consensus here for most people that two cotton sheets are easier to wash and deal with than wrestling a duvet or duvet cover every week. much of the American South also deals with horrifically hot summers, even at night, so some people tend to sweat in their sleep and don't even need a duvet for half of the year. it's nice to have the breathable flat sheet on your body without the heaviness of a blanket or duvet. 2) the duvets in England DID have duvet covers, but at the airbnb we stayed at especially, it was clear the duvet cover had not been washed ahead of our visit 💀 it had some kind of smudge/stain on it and when we first arrived to drop off our luggage, only the fitted sheet and the pillowcases were in the wash at the time (the duvet was just sitting on the bare mattress). I'm sure some airbnb hosts probably wash their duvet covers but ours DID NOT lmao and I was so jet lagged and exhausted and without any other options so I just....did what I had to do and went to sleep. but it bothered me immensely while I was there 😂 later when we were in a hotel, there wasn't a flat sheet either, nor anything to bathe with!? the beds were horrific and from the 1980s at least though so I have no idea if they washed the duvet covers or not, but with the poor quality of service provided I'm guessing they didn't wash them between every guest and stay. I probably just had two bad apples while I was there, I'm not holding it against the entire country...but I do think in high traffic places like hotels that a flat sheet would be a more sanitary option.