#that's the birthday flower for august!

[raatopaikka]

[mspaint-flower]

impressionist flower

convenient timing

[maxphotoarchive]

August 29, 2024

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

there should be advent calendars for every month

what are we counting down to? nothing. i just want a daily treat. next question

[ayoosho]

21.August.2O23🎈

Happy birthday to amazing me …

Celebrating my special day

at the coziest coffee house 🫶🏻

[reddirttown]

Language of Flowers: Thrift

In the language of flowers, the flower for today, August 14 (which is also my parents’ 69th wedding anniversary), is Thrift, which signifies sympathy for the fallen. Armeria maritima. Image from Wikipedia. This perky pink wildflower has been a favorite of gardeners since the 16th century. In Gaelic, Thrift is known as tonna chladaich, meaning ‘beach wave’. In Welsh it is called clustog fair,…

[inkedwaters]

* ⟢ THE  TRIPLE  A’S   ,   THE  DOUBLE  A’S.                         →   @starlightfreed​

[kenkenstrawberries]

I made a collage for how i picture my 21st birthday!

[twistedkittyart]

It's August soon (crazy as I don't feel we've had much of a summer yet with all the rain), Augusts birthstone is Peridot, a beautiful green gemstone.

Pictured is on of my Peridot star-flower pendants.

[themethereoncewas]

Natural Chamomile Soap Recipe + Soap Making Instructions

Woensdag 16 augustus 2023... kamille zeep maken... als cadeau

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -

[templeofelysium]

some ancient greek holidays

these holidays follow the lunar/athenian calendar, so I will either be providing the moon phase or Athenian date and the corresponding Gregorian months. also this is pretty obvious but these are just very general descriptions of these holidays, to give you an idea of which you think you'd like to practice. no one is forcing you to do every single one of these, nor is it expected. do whatever works for you.

if there's anything you think I should add, let me know

HEKATE'S DEIPNON

when: during the new moon phase purpose: honor Hekate and the souls of the restless dead, cleanse self and home activities: a meal set out at Hekate's altar (often including garlic, raw eggs, cake, leeks/onions, or fish), a sacrifice (usually of an animal, but it can be your choice), and burning of incense and/or cleaning house as purification deities honored: Hekate, the dead

NOUMENIA

when: the first day a sliver of the moon can be seen purpose: a day of rest and feasting activities: offer frankincense, flower garlands, wine, and barley cakes on the altars that had been cleaned the day before deities honored: household gods like Hestia, Hermes, Hekate and Zeus, celestial deities like Apollo and Artemis, or personal protective deities (like Athena was for Athens)

AGATHOS DAIMON

when: the day after Noumenia purpose: it's personal to each family but is often a ritual to honor the intermediary(ies) between mortals and gods, and to ask for things like good luck or protection activities: wine/other libations, offerings placed on an altar personal to the Agathos Daimon which can include incense, food, and things related to snakes deities honored: deities commonly associated with snakes, like Dionysus and Hermes, as well as the goddess of luck, Tyche, and Zeus, who is often called Agathos Daimon

RURAL DIONYSIA

when: during the month of Poseideon (december/january), but the festivals often happened on different days depending on the place purpose: honoring Dionysus and cultivation activities: a procession of men carrying phalluses, girls carrying baskets of bread, people with water, bread, cakes, and wine). dancing and singing contests, possibly even dramatic performances, and choruses of dithryambs. deities honored: Dionysus

CITY DIONYSIA

when: 10th-17th of Elaphebolion (March/April) purpose: honoring Dionysus activities: a reenactment of Dionysus being rebuffed from Athens, one or several dramas/plays, dramatic competitions, singing and dancing, feasting and offerings (especially of bread or phalluses)/libations (often of wine) deities honored: Dionysus

PANATHANEA

when: 23rd-30th of Hekatombaion (July/August) purpose: celebrating the birth of Athens activities: a huge procession showing off a large tapestry woven by only women, a torch race, a meal of meat for everyone in the city, athletic games deities honored: Athena

THARGELIA

when: 6th (for Artemis) and 7th (for Apollo) of Thargelion (May/June) purpose: celebrating the birthdays of Apollo and Artemis activities: the beating and banishment of an ugly man and woman (as purification, but you could just do the usual cleaning and incense burning) on the 6th. offerings of the first harvests were given to Apollo (but you could just cook a dish and offer part of it), a procession of children carrying a wreath with fruit, honey, wine, oil, and bread along with singing on the 7th. deities honored: Artemis and Apollo

THESMOPHORIA

when: 11th-13th Pyanepsion (October/November) purpose: honoring Demeter's loss of Persephone to the Underworld activities: a procession of women up to a space where men were banned, sexual activity was abstained from, they lived primitively (fasted and sat on a floor of branches), and sacrificed of piglets in the first days. then had feasts and prayed (often for things Demeter could provide, like good harvests or fertility) on the last day deities honored: Demeter and Persephone

DIASIA

when: 23rd of Anthesterion (February/March) purpose: honor Zeus Chthonius activities: solemn but joyful night rites of sacrifices, sheep/pig shaped pastry offerings, feasting, dancing, and hymn chanting deities honored: Zeus

KRONIA

when: 12th of Hekatombaion (July/August) purpose: honor Kronos (and to some extent Rhea) activities: feasting in large groups, where slaves can join their masters at the dinner table. like an early version of Labor Day deities honored: Kronos

THEOGAMIA

when: 27th of Gamelion (January/February) purpose: to celebrate the anniversary of Hera and Zeus' marriage activities: feasting, offerings/libations, and possibly also hosting a person's own marriage deities honored: Hera and Zeus

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.

His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.

Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.

He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.

Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.

“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.

The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.

Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.

Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.

“Alright, Alfred.”

Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.

Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.

Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.

He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.

Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.

“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”

Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.

“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.

“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.

They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.

It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.

Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”

——

A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.

As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.

——

Dick had left long before Bruce did.

And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.

“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”

But there was no-one.

[actualori]

happy flower husbands anniversary (i’m probably off a few days oh well)

happy birthday to a rare healthy mcyt ship

drawn in august, november, and december

[postmortemnivis]

spring was simon’s favourite season.

maybe because it meant rebirth, seeing the trees turn a vivid green again and the fields full of flowers and colours gave him hope. he loved to wake up and open his window in the early days of april, when the world was finally getting rid of the chilly morning breeze that always made him sick the first weeks of winter. every time he felt the air getting warmer, he couldn’t wait to change his heavy winter jacket into his windbreaker.

maybe it was because his birthday was in may, and despite not having celebrated it like he should’ve when he was a kid, he knew you would never forget to wake him up with a soft peck on the lips.

‘morning birthday boy.

if you asked him, he would tell you he liked spring better than summer because the weather was more enjoyable, not too hot yet not cold. spring’s light showers were his favourite noise to wake up to, after the one of the coffee maker he got you for christmas.

the real reason simon was so devoted to spring, almost as much as he was to you, were you. what did you expect from him?

he knew you probably couldn’t remember, but all those years back, you two met in early spring, after a particularly difficult winter.

simons life had been a deep, cold and dark winter for the past years. two, five, ten, who kept count anymore? his days would blend one into the other, seasons slowly bleeding into the next, he almost couldn’t tell the difference between august and february. seasonal depression was real, but somehow it lingered all around the year for him. that was before you.

you were the first shy sun ray that filtered through the clouds, quite literally. you, as fresh as the cold rain, and your heart, as warm as a late may afternoon, were all he needed to get out of his hibernation. you were what simon needed to wake up, the signal that spring and all beautiful things were on the way, that he needed to arise and get out of his hollow tree.

for the first time in years, simon’s eyes realized that spring was blooming everywhere around him, he was just too deep into his winter, blind, to notice; the flowers were blossoming, as beautiful as ever. he was grateful.

for you, for spring, for the sun finally caressing his face and skin and for your sweet kisses, each of them feeling like the first warm day after months of wind and snow.

“good morning, birthday boy.” you whispered as you kissed his lips.

simon squeezed his eyes shut before slowly opening them. he’d heard you get up, of course, the moment you started stirring in bed he was informed you were awake. you could try to keep the military out of the house, but the instincts followed him home, whether you liked it or not.

your bright smile was beaming at him, your hands on his bare broad chest as you sat on his hips, your thighs on either side of his waist.

“‘mornin’ beautiful.” he mumbled, resting a strong hand on your hip as he sat back, leaning against the headrest.

“breakfast’s in the kitchen,” you smiled, “i made coffee too.”

he hummed. “can smell it. i heard you too.”

you grinned.

“what’re grinning at?” he tiredly grinned back.

“want me to bring you breakfast in bed?” you said, “we can stay here in bed all day if you want to.”

he shook his head. “nah, love, i’m coming to the kitchen. i’ll be ready in a minute.”

you brought your lips to his again before getting off of him and caressing his cheek as you walked back to the kitchen, waiting for him.

his eyes followed your figure until you left the room, and he raised his gaze to the ceiling for a minute before shuffling his feet to the bathroom. he closed the door and stood in front of the sink, his hands on either side of the ceramic. his brown eyes, so dark they looked black, remained fixed on his reflection before he walked to the big window and opened the panes.

“simon?” you called. “baby, your coffee’s getting cold!”

his broad figure stood there, studying the nature outside. there was a small park in front of the flat, a little green heaven where mostly children went to play, he could hear from there the laughters and giggles. the trees, wild cherries and guelder rose followed the small street, their branches almost reaching the top floor where you lived.

“comin’ love.”

it was the middle of may, almost summer, and simon took a big breath of the fresh morning air before leaving the window open as he turned around and walked to the kitchen, right into his little piece of spring.

[reddirttown]

Language of Flowers: Vetch

In the language of flowers, the flower for today, August 13, is Vetch, which signifies shyness. Vicia orobus. Image from Wikipedia. Vicia sativa, known as the common Vetch, garden Vetch, tare, or simply Vetch, is a nitrogen-fixing leguminous plant in the family Fabaceae. ‘Vicia’ means ‘binder’ in Latin; this was the name used by Pliny for Vetch. Vetch is also referenced by Horace in his account…