#frangipanier

[fullcravings]

Homemade Pistachio Filled Chocolate Croissants

[thunderstruck9]

Nicholas Harding (Australian, 1956-2022), Pink Frangipani (3), 2003. Oil on canvas, 30.5 x 30.5 cm.

[justaddkeywest]

credit: sabspreppy

[jesncin]

MY AUTHORS COPIES OF LUNAR BOY HAVE ARRIVED!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!

Both in hard and soft copy form! This soft pink book looks incredible and the colors printed out so well!!! My baby moon boy is real, I can't believe it!!! He could be yours too, this May 14th!

[helluvatimes]

A Happy Day

Plumeria rubra looking happy with the warm climate here even after a passing shower. Photo credit: Jonathan Chua.

[lil-shiro]

The top 3 men at the 2024 Nebelhorn Trophy:

🥇 Sota Yamamoto 🇯🇵 🥈 Gabriele Frangipani 🇮🇹 🥉 Deniss Vasiljevs 🇱🇻

[m00nb04rd5]

Glory (Wings of Fire)

[redrcs]

After the rain

Red frangipani in my garden

[outdoormagic]

Unseasonable

[slaughter-books]

Day 14: JOMPBPC: Feel The Spark

I love the main relationship in this absolutely beautiful book! 💛

[francixoxoxo]

pirate billy finding a shell or an oyster with a pearl in it and feeling kind of silly giving it to mermaid reader because she lives with it all but he's just reminded of her when he sees beautiful things and he thinks everything lovely should belong to her. and mermaid reader loves it so much too :)

omg this is such a cute idea I think I went a little too crazy with it

As Billy turns the delicate thing over in his hands, he feels like a fool. You tend to have that affect on him.

His thumb feels over the small ridges of the oyster, hands behind his back. It’s already been cracked open a bit, though he left it to you to fully unfurl. You’re laying on your back in the sand, hands splayed over your belly (which you’re pleased to find is becoming dotted with sunspots, a token of spending time on the surface), and your eyelashes fanning against your cheeks. You already called for him to sit beside you, and sure, he’s shrugging off his boots and sticking his socks into the mouths of them, but he’s stalling. His baby blues are trained on the crown of hair sprawling around your head and collecting grains of sand, the low hum emanating from your throat as you hum a tune a mother’d sing to a young’un.

You already have what he wants to give you. You can find it anywhere, frankly, so what’s so special about the fact that the gift passed his fishhook-bitten and rope-scathed hands? Fact is that he ain’t got much to give. The most he can do is pick frangipani in their fullest bloom to thread into your hair, bend over a bracelet of twine for hours to ensure the rope is devoid of anything that could prick your soft skin, rove his eyes over the surf at low tide until he finds a worthy shell. A nook to lay in, to remain near to him even when miles separate you, a bed in the softest recesses of his heart; that's all he can give you.

"Billy?" You call again, opening an eye just by a crack. The tresses of your hair collect more sand as you tilt your head to see him. What could he possibly be pondering so hard, you don't know, but you know it won't be hard to coax it out of him.

"M'here." He's snapped out of his thoughts, willing his feet to move on the sand, finding it in himself to settle beside you. his feet are in the surf, the cold saltwater lapping at them tenderly. Satisfied with his presence, you close your eyes again, turning your face to the sun. Billy twirls and brushes his fingers through your locks affectionately.

The environment is gently licking at Billy's ears, all of it careful and all of it gentle, not one thing overpowering another. There is the warm breaths puffing from your nostrils, the sea's basin of rolling tides swishing against the shore, the faint twitter and warble of birds in the forest a ways away from the beach. You fit into this place like it was formed around you, like a party moves around a sleeping child on the sofa, the tide at your schedule, the sun at your preference, the wind at your whims. Billy sticks out like a sore thumb, thrown into this world with two left legs, stumbling like a fawn for survival. In the meanwhile, all that was beautiful in nature seemed to be created in your image.

He feels like a fool, presenting a queen with a birch twig when she is deserving of sapphire.

Billy fills his lungs in a deep breath and murmurs, "Got somethin' for you." The smile that splits your lips fills the growing cavity in his chest with a whisper of hope. Your eyes flutter open.

"Really?" Your smile was one that inspired murals. Billy nods, a laugh emanating deep from his chest. Carefully, he unclasps the hands in his lap, lifting a cupped palm to you, presenting the taupe oyster. As you take it into your own hands silently, a nervous feeling creeps up into Billy's stomach.

"I know y'probably got plenty, don't need none from me, but.. I dunno, I thought it was pretty. Made me think of you." Billy rambles, his brows drawing as he watches you. There is a tender smile on your cheeks, as you wedge both thumbnails into the tight-lipped mouth of the oyster. Masterfully pulling it open, not damaging the hinge, not needing a knife to shuck it. Of course you don't need a knife, his strong girl.

There's plenty more he wants to say, sure, he could fill a book with all the words to make up for the embarrassingly simple gift. But once the oyster is pried open and your thumbs are working the pearl out, he falls silent. You smile at him when you hold the small, ivory bead. "It's beautiful!" You lean over, bridging the small gap twixt you two and cupping his cheek in the hand not holding the pearl. His stubble is familiar, the scratch of it on your fingertips welcome. "It's already my favorite."

A breathy chuckle slips from Billy's lips, his eyes filled with a fond awe. You liked it, the thought is light with relief as it echoes in his head. It wasn't anything special to you. But it passed his hands, your man held it and wanted you in particular to have it. As he leans forward, tenderly bringing his lips onto yours, you feel absolutely certain that any gift from him would be cherished more than a bird appreciates the wind under its feathers; more than a fern cherishes the sun lending warm hands to its leaves; more than the sea cherishes the moon, willingly moving to its whims. Billy'd someday admit that he was under a similar gravity. Wherever you go, he will follow.

[tropiical]

Frangipani | Pixabay

[thistransient]

親愛的榕樹

[mickeysarmyguy]

“Its gentle scent makes me feel liberated, and it's also enchanting. I think, it smells like you, Jom.” 🌼💖

[jesncin]

Aminah, the butch peer tutor. Blossoming on her terms.

[cecy83]

🌼🌼🌼