#giant floral arrangements from her beloved

[change-the-rules]

no offense against baby anthony but riverdale was already being ripped part for it's 'nonsensical' choices that were a feature and not a bug so they should've just ignored vanessa's pregnancy vanessa's a tiny ass lady ya'll had options

just like several episodes of toni just pushing around her motorcycle everywhere she goes with zero explanation

school hallway? motorcycle. vixens practice? coaching from behind the motorcycle. pop's diner? how did you get that motorcycle through the single door. town walkthroughs? the feral dogs avoid me cause i'm a cool cat with.... a motorcycle. town council meeting? in case you forgot i am social working guidance counseling leader of a biker gang -motorcycle *jazz hands* 2bdr apartment with a 3 floor walkup and no elevator? why are you still with the questions m o t o r c y c l e

fangs at some point: yea i don't know how she got it in here either- no i know - it's just yeah no cheryl's still rping sarah winschester-yeah i know -no it's that's her emotional support motorcycle-look it's easier to just not question it

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Tattoo/Flower Shop AU: Roses Are Red (AU!Rick Flag x AU!OC)

Summary: Flower shop owner Delphia is thinking about getting a tattoo, good thing one of her cashiers also happens to work part-time at the tattoo parlor down the street. That really scary-looking one owned by the ex-Marine that put the fear of God in Delphia every time she saw him. Great.

Pairing: TattooArtist!Rick Flag x Florist!OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 5282

Warnings: fluffff, language, needle/blood mention, Rick Flag with lots of tattoos

if i go masterlist

A/N: I know jack shit about tattoos cause I've never gotten one, this is all only assumptions I've made from watching stupid tattooing reality TV. So sorry if something is inaccurate lol

Delphia cocked her head to one side as she stared at the floral arrangement before her. She had been working on this one piece for way too long. This shipment of bridal flowers should have been in Abner’s truck twenty minutes ago to get to the wedding venue on time. But Delphia wasn’t going to stop until everything was perfect. It was her job after all. This piece she was working on just so happened to be the centerpiece of the sweetheart table at the reception. With big, open carnations in pastel pink and pops of bright orange cosmos backdropped giant fern leaves. Not exactly her top choices for this color combo but the bride gets what the bride wants.

“You finished with those bridesmaid bouquets?” Delphia asked her apprentice.

“Yes.” Cleo held one up for her to see. “What do you think?”

“They look beautiful. Let’s get all this out to Abner.”

The lanky delivery driver was leaning against the white panel van with “The Little Flower Market '' splashed across the side in the alleyway behind the shop. He lept up from looking at his phone, however, when he heard the metal back door clang open.

“Took you long enough!” he chastised as he quickly moved to help.

He put the usual brick in front of the door to hold it open for Delphia and Cleo whose arms were laden with bouquets, arrangements, and corsages. It was only May, but Delphia could feel that dreaded and beloved season coming on. Wedding season. When her tiny shop in that tiny town made the most money, her creative juices got to flow the most, and when she felt like she never got to sit down. It was all worth it though to live out her dream of being a florist and owning her own shop.

“Sorry, sorry!” Delphia sighed as she helped load everything into the back of the van. “Took longer than expected. You can tell the wedding coordinator that I’ve thrown in an extra arrangement for being late.”

“S’not gonna make them any less angry at me but fine.”

Delphia watched with her hands on her hips as Abner got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the alleyway. She really hoped that none of the vases broke this time and Abner wouldn’t have to call frantically for her to come fix it. With one last sigh, she turned and went back inside the shop.

The backroom was a mess of trimmed stems and flowers with petals too crumpled to use in any of the arrangements. As she looked around at the mess, and Cleo sitting off in the corner on her phone, a sudden exhaustion pulled at the backs of her eyes. Cleaning could wait another fifteen minutes. Surely.

A groan pushed itself past her lips as she lowered herself onto one of the step stools used to reach the vases stored on the higher shelves. Yep, she was starting to feel that wedding season ache in her knees. She pulled out her phone and started scrolling, not even really caring what she was looking at, her mind lost somewhere else. Focused on the next task and the task after that and the task after that. Clean up the back room. Check the online orders for the day. Make those online orders and have them ready for pickup or delivery tomorrow. Clean up the mess from that. Take stock of what flowers are in the shop and place an order for what they need. Call all those wedding coordinators on her waitlist.

“You wanna get a tat?” a high, curious voice suddenly asked loudly in Delphia’s ear.

She jumped, nearly throwing her phone from her hands as she turned to see dipdyed pigtails and red painted lips smiling at her. Harley Quinn. Her newest hire. Just someone to watch the register and hopefully convince visitors to the shop to actually buy something instead of just browsing. The normal facade Harley had put up during her interview was misleading. But at least she kept things interesting when she was around.

Delphia put a hand to her beating heart. “Jesus, Harley! You’re supposed to be watching the front!”

“No one’s come in for like thirty minutes.” Harley waved a hand. “So, you wanna tattoo or what?”

“I, uh — “ Delphia looked down at her phone, she was in fact looking at tattoo inspirations. “ — I’ve been thinking about it, yeah.”

Harley looked over her shoulder at the images she had pulled up with pursed lips and bright eyes narrowed. It amazed Delphia how that woman sometimes looked like a cartoon character instead of a real human person.

“Hmm, not really my style. You should talk to Ricky!”

Right. Harley’s other job. Part-time tattoo artist at the parlor down the street, only a few doors down actually. The Illustrated Man. She had seen “Ricky” a few times, especially at the end of the day when they were closing up shop at the same time. And she most definitely did not want to talk to him. He was an ex-Marine, towering wall of muscle with tattoos covering nearly every inch of skin that hung out of the t-shirts he seemed to wear everyday. He scared the shit out of her and the closest she had ever gotten to him was maybe twelve feet.

“C-Can’t you just do it, Harley? I’ve heard you’re really good.”

“Not my style babe. You wanna tattoo of a cartoon burrito on your ass, you call me up though.” Harley seemed to notice her boss’s hesitation and insisted, “You really want that tattoo?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Delphia replied as she wrung her hands together, turning the flesh a bright red.

“Then you gotta talk to Ricky — the ones you’re lookin’ at match his style perfectly.”

The door to The Illustrated Man tattoo parlor looked heavy, wooden and painted a dark, faded shade of green. There was a large pane of glass to the right of the door that allowed Delphia a peek inside the parlor. On the glass, the name of the place and their logo, a man with arms outstretched covered head to toe in little black markings, was painted on with painstaking precision. The neon sign up in the corner said they were open, the hours pasted to the door confirming it was so.

But still, Delphia stood there clutching the strap of the purse she had thrown over her shoulder tightly. Ringing it in her palms to the point it hurt. She wasn’t nervous about getting the tattoo. She had been thinking about this for a long time, but the conversation she had with Harley just pushed her over the edge to finally do it. And she had plenty of time. It was Monday, The Little Flower Market was closed to give her at least the semblance of a weekend. No — she was most definitely still just terrified to actually talk to the owner of the tattoo parlor.

Stealing the last bits of her courage, Delphia pushed open the heavy wooden door and walked inside. The bell above the threshold dinged loudly when she entered. It wasn’t as scary on the inside as she thought it was going to be. It was nearly inviting. There was rock music playing softly over the speakers. The floor was tiled black and white, the walls covered in artwork. From pictures of tattoos on various parts of people's bodies, to simple drawings, to pictures of what appeared to be fairly famous people after getting their tattoos done in the shop. She moved in closer to the wall, inspecting with narrowed eyes a picture of what appeared to be “Ricky” and Chris Evans. He had been in town? How the hell had she missed that?

She nearly jumped when a set of heavy footsteps echoed from further in the parlor.

“Can I help you?”

Jesus, even his voice was terrifying. All deep and gruff with a slight southern drawl. Delphia audibly gulped as she watched him walk through the parlor to the lobby. He was somehow even taller and wider up close, shoulders broad and straining underneath the black t-shirt he had on. Her eyes couldn’t decide what to focus on. His arms were covered in black ink, swirling and crashing together in a weird kind of harmony. Even the backs of his hands were tattooed with massive roses, his fingers covered by faded roman numerals. As he came to a halt behind the front desk, she could finally see what that tattoo on his neck was: three swallows, hemmed by a golden chain tucked under his shirt.

It was only when he was behind the counter, palms flat and an eyebrow raised, that she finally realized that she was supposed to say something to him.

“I — uh — I — “

“Dee, baby! I thought I heard ya!” Harley came bounding out of the back with a grin, skidding to a halt at the front desk with an outstretched hand. “Ricky this is my other boss Delphia — that lady who owns the flower shop down the street. Told her to come to you for her tat.”

Somehow that brow lifted even higher as he looked from Harley back to her.

“Delphia.” The way her name rolled off his tongue sounded like honeyed bourbon. “Where’s that from — the name?”

“It’s er — it’s Greek. After the myth of the Oracle of Delphi.”

“S’pretty,” he mumbled, making a furiously hot blush spread across her cheeks, before he stuck out his hand towards her, “Name’s Rick.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Her nose scrunched at how little her voice sounded. Her fingers barely wrapped around his hand, it was so big. But it was warm and calloused and had her blushing all over again. God, why was she acting like this? She was never like this. She was never shy or flustered. But he stared at her with eyes she couldn’t tell the color of and a slight, humorous quirk to his lips and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. When she let go of him, his eyes flicked up and down her body, sizing her up. Did she have to choose to wear that green pair of overalls like some sort of oversized toddler today? He definitely wasn’t going to think that was cool. Wait — why did she care if this guy thought she was cool or not?

“So — “ Rick bent down behind the front desk and pulled out a thick binder, dropping it down on the countertop with a bang. “ — What’r’ya lookin’ for? Birds? A quote? An anchor?”

“Uh, no. No. I kinda had…I was thinking about…I want something different…”

“Ugh! Come on, Dee, spit it out already!” Harley groaned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “”You’re killing me with the anticipation here!”

“Yeah, you’re killing us with the anticipation,” Rick deadpanned.

Delphia snorted out a laugh, her hand instantly clapping over her mouth in embarrassment. Her eyes met Rick’s and he winked. He winked at her and she felt red hot all over. She coughed awkwardly into her hand and then pointed down at her exposed inner forearm.

“I want a rose held up by a skeletal hand. Offering it like they’re in love,” she said.

The gears were turning in Rick’s head. She could practically see it behind those dark hazel eyes. Then he smacked the countertop and turned towards the back of the parlor.

“Come with me — let me draw somethin’ up for ya.”

He gestured for Delphia to follow and then he was sauntering away, long strides carrying him easily across the tiled floor, steel toed boots thumping with each step. She walked around the front desk hesitantly, purse strap wrung between her fingers once more. But then Harley was smiling at her, squealing in excitement as she took hold of Delphia’s shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. Right. There was nothing to worry about. It was just a tattoo that was going on her body forever — getting drawn by someone she may no longer be scared of but was definitely starting to be confused by.

Harley guided her to what she could only assume was the tattoo parlor’s backroom. There were a few wornout couches stuffed inside, a fridge, and a tall table shoved against one wall scattered with barstools. Rick was sitting at this table, flipping open a tablet and twirling the stylist between his long fingers.

“Ugh, Dee, your tattoo’s gonna be amazing! I can feel it in my tootie!” Harley said as she twirled around the couch and eventually flopped into a seat.

There was a sputtering noise from the opposite end of the couch. Delphia looked over to see a black man with a closely shaved head and beard coughing into his hand, a bottle of cream soda in the other.

“You can feel it — “ He coughed again. “ — In your what?”

“In my tootie!” Harley repeated, “It’s like my soul but…Better.”

“You’re full’a bullshit, Quinn. Sounds like your ass to me.”

“I am not full of bullshit! The tootie, DuBois, is a very real thing and I can — “

“Guys, will you behave?” Rick spoke up, “Gotta new client here and I’d rather you not scare her off.”

DuBois looked over the back of the couch at Delphia. He stared at her for a moment and then a knowing look passed over his face. His finger came up and pointed at her.

“Hey, you’re the flower lady.” DuBois’ expression dropped to dead serious. “Your peonies did shit to save my marriage.”

Delphia’s face scrunched in confusion. “You picked peonies? Seriously?”

On the edge of her hearing, she heard Rick’s chuckle before he spoke, “Don’t you have a client coming in, DuBois?”

He looked down at his watch. “Not for another — “

The bell above the door rang loudly even from all the way back there.

“Fuck me,” DuBois groaned as he got up from the couch, setting down his drink on his way out the door.

Delphia could hear him talking jovially with his client out in the lobby as she continued to stand just inside the doorway. Really unsure of where she was supposed to be. Rick seemed to notice this, looking up from the drawing on the tablet and waving her to come over.

“Here — take a seat. M’almost done.”

Taking a deep breath, she settled into the stool next to him. For a man with such big, rough hands, his fingers held the stylist delicately as he moved it across the screen. His strokes were all deliberate and confident, not an ounce of second guessing in any of them. Of their own accord, Delphia’s eyes traveled up those inked arms until she finally landed on his face. She had been so distracted by those damn tattoos, she hadn’t even noticed how handsome he really was. Hadn’t noticed that sharp line of his jaw, those distinguished cheekbones, the slight facial hair on his upper lip and chin, his slicked back hair that he pushed back from time to time as he kept his eyes locked on his work. Jesus, those eyes. What color even was that? Brown? Green? Honey? She had no idea and yet she was obsessed with it. Seeing the details of him, he was far less scary now. He looked kind. Maybe a little rough around the edges but definitely not as terrifying as all those nights out on the street.

“Seen you before, you know,” Rick mumbled as he continued to draw, eyes flicking over at her, “Closin’ up your shop.”

“Yeah, I, uh — I’ve seen you, too. Gonna be honest, you’re kinda terrifying on a dark and empty street.” She smiled when he laughed. She made him laugh. “Doesn’t help that you’d just stand there while I walked to my car.”

It was barely noticeable, but she could see his cheeks pink as he hunkered down closer to the tablet. “I was — uh — I was makin’ sure you got to your car okay. Sorry…If it was creepy.”

“Oh.”

Delphia felt too stunned to say anything else. This complete and total stranger, a man she maybe locked eyes with once and had most definitely scurried away from, after a long day at work, hung back to make sure that she got to her car safely. She could practically feel her heart malt, her insides turning to goo at such a kind and silent gesture. She wanted to thank him, but it was too late. He finished with the sketch and was turning the tablet for her to see. Another time perhaps.

“Whaddaya think?” he asked, brow furrowed curiously as he pushed the tablet closer to her.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, “It’s exactly how I saw it in my head. I love it.”

And it really was. It was everything she was hoping for and more. He even got the positioning of the skeletal hand just right. Rick smiled as he took the tablet back, prepping his drawing to be sent off to the stencil printer.

“Awesome. Do you want any colors in this?”

Delphia cocked her head to one side as she looked at the drawing again. “No. I don’t think so. Just black is fine.”

“Thought roses were supposed to be red,” Rick commented as he got up from his stool, making his way over to the printer in the corner.

“Oh, roses can be whatever color you want,” she replied, “I’ve got some green ones down in the shop if you wan’em.”

“Green? Seriously?”

She shrugged, twisting in her stool so she could watch him stand next to the printer with his hands on his hips, somehow making him look even more broad than before. “Yeah. Get a little food coloring in water, put a white rose in and poof — a few hours later you’ve got a green rose.”

Rick just shook his head with a smile. She decided, with a grin of her own, that she liked when he did that. Made all those hard edges disappear and that kindness in his eyes blossom. It made this warmth radiate in her chest. Like playing in the backyard of her childhood in autumn, knowing that there was hot apple cider waiting for her inside. It made her long to see him smile more, to make him laugh. It made her yearn for his stories, the history behind each of those tattoos and maybe even more. It made —

Oh. Oh, dear.

“Alright — we’ve got the stencil.” He held up the piece of paper hashed with transferable purple ink before he cut off the excess. “Let’s head over to my chair.”

Rick led the way back out into the parlor, Delphia trailing behind with a now permanent blush adorning her cheeks. DuBois was working on a guy closer to the front door, a giant tribal back piece that looked absolutely painful to Delphia. The heat faded from her face when she noticed all the blood that DuBois wiped from the man’s skin after a good pass of his needle. And Harley, who Delphia hadn’t even noticed leaving the backroom, was working on a girl’s foot and she was practically screaming in pain. Nerves bunched up in her gut like a cat caught in the yarn basket.

Stopping at a black leather chair much like a dentist would have, Rick turned back to look at her with a smile. But that grin was quickly wiped from his face when he seemed to notice Delphia’s sudden apprehension.

“Hey, you good?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

The weight of his palm was heavy and calming. But that girl was still moaning in pain and Delphia really, really didn’t want these people to see her pass out or hear her own noises of discomfort.

“I — is there….I don’t — can we — ?”

Every variation on the question she tried seemed to get lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth. But Rick got it.

“We’ll go to a private room, okay? Prolly be more comfortable in there.”

Delphia nodded frantically. He led her to a door off to the side that had “Tattoo In Progress” painted into the frosted glass. Rick opened the door and allowed her to step inside first. In this little room, with just the chair and a cart with the tattoo gun, the noises in the main parlor instantly faded. Delphia took a calming breath, but her heart was still pounding as she set down her bag and lowered herself into the leather seat.

“You a virgin?” Rick asked as he sat down on the rolling chair in front of her.

She blinked at him in surprise. “Am I a what?”

“A virgin,” he repeated on a chuckle as he put on a pair of black lattex gloves, “Never been inked.”

“Oh, Jesus — no, I’ve never had a tattoo before.”

Rick pulled out some lotion and a razor. He was gentle as he propped up her left arm the way he wanted and put the lotion onto the skin of her inner arm. He asked her to rub it in and after he started with the razor.

“Gotta tolerance for pain?” he asked as he dropped the razor into a metal dish.

Delphia considered it for a moment, eyes trained on the cleaning foam he squirted on her flesh and rubbed in gently. Concentrated on how his touch made her entire body feel like it was on fire. She was having a really hard time remembering why she thought he was scary in the first place and at the same time cursing herself for not meeting him sooner.

“I mean — I’ve snipped off the tips of my fingers with garden shears plenty of times. Gotten a lotta stitches.” She swallowed thickly as he lined the stencil up just how he wanted it and pressed the design into her skin. “Most people don’t notice, but the middle finger on my left hand is down to the middle knuckle. Sorry — I….don’t know why I just told you that.”

Rick peeled back the stencil slowly and with a small smile. “S’Alright, I don’t mind. I did notice and I was gonna ask eventually, so…”

“The story’s not that great I promise. Oh, God.”

He had pulled out the tattoo gun, plugged in and ready to be dipped in ink. Ready to start working that ink into her skin, stabbing her more than a million times and injecting it just beneath the surface of her flesh. She was always fine with needles, she didn’t know why her heart was pounding in her chest or why her leg had started to bounce. Once he started she was sure it was going to be fine. But God did that gun look terrifying and what if the pain was more than she could bear?

And Rick, somehow so attentive to her emotions and somehow knowing exactly what she needed, put a hand to that thigh that bounced nervously. It instantly stilled as he gave the forgiving flesh a soft squeeze. His hand nearly eclipsed the entire expanse of her thigh, fingers digging into the corduroy of her overalls in such a reassuring and comforting way. He didn’t have to do this. He could so easily lose his patience and tell her that if she didn’t want it she could get out. Stop wasting his time. But he cared. He cared enough to look up at her with eyebrows raised and that kindness in those unfathomable eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was still that southern rasp, but it was gentle, soft. “Plenty of time to back out if you really don’t wanna do this.”

“I do — I want it. Sorry. I don’t know why I feel so freaking nervous. Were-Were you nervous?”

Without even thinking her fingers trailed over that hand on her thigh. Brushed over the faded roman numerals, traced the petals of the elaborate rose on the back of his hand, followed the trail of the green snake coiled around his forearm. She watched the muscle there flex beneath her touch — felt as his fingers dug into her just a bit tighter. She looked back into his face to find his eyes boring into her, searching for something she wasn’t entirely sure of. But she hoped he would find it. Uncover it with greedy hands and keep it close to his chest forever.

“My first tat?” he finally said, with her hand settled around his thick wrist, “Yeah. I was nervous.”

Delphia grinned. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am — but I’m tryin’ to make you feel better. So just believe it for now.”

“I don’t think you get nervous about anything,” she told him honestly, quietly.

“Well, trust me, I do.” He gave her leg one last squeeze before letting go and picking up a paper towel. Dipping the tattoo gun in black ink he poised it over her skin. “I’m gonna start now, okay?”

“Okay.”

The following day, Delphia was back to making floral arrangements in the backroom of her shop. The day before feeling like some sort of weird dream she had yet to wake up from. But there was evidence clearly written on her arm. Covered by a clear second skin Rick told her not to take off for at least a month in order for it to heal the best. The tattoo turned out beautifully. It barely even hurt once he started. The black ink of that rose and skeletal hand in such stark contrast to her pale skin. Rick was so pleased with his work he actually took a picture of it, telling her he was going to add it to his book later. It really was like a dream. She had stumbled out of the parlor yesterday feeling like she had just woken up, a goofy sort of smile stretching her lips with the feeling of his hands on her still prickling all over.

But it was also a dream she had barely had the time to think about. After her day off, online orders had piled up. So she had been in the backroom nearly the entire day trying to fill as many orders as she could, Cleo trying to keep pace beside her. Thankfully, it was finally the end of the day. Everyone else had gone home for the night. There were only ten more minutes till close and Delphia was working on the last arrangement. And what a sweet one to end on.

The notes on the order said that it was for their fortieth wedding anniversary and he wanted it to look as much like her original bridal bouquet as possible. Seeing the request had nearly made Delphia tear up. It was turning out beautifully. Lavender hydrangeas, mauve dahlias, orange ranunculus, and midnight eucalyptas made for a beautiful combination. She snipped off the last bit of excess leaves just before the bell above the door rang loudly through the tiny shop.

Delphia groaned as she looked down at her watch. Seriously? Someone was coming in right now? When all she wanted to do was turn out the lights and go home to take a bath?

She put on her best smile though as she turned to go out to the main room. “We close in five minutes just so you…Know.”

Rick looked so odd standing in her brightly colored shop. All those pops of color from the flowers surrounding him in stark contrast to the all black outfit he was sporting. Oh, so it wasn’t a dream. She met that scary man who owned the tattoo parlor a few doors down and found that he wasn’t so scary at all. He was kind and caring and so roguishly handsome it was nearly obscene. He told her stories while he gave her her first tattoo. He made her laugh so hard she cried. And now he was standing in her flower shop looking so uncertain, head tilted down with the smallest smile, and her heart was fluttering with the anticipation for something. She just wasn’t entirely sure what that something was yet.

“Can I help you?” Delphia asked as she moved to stand behind the counter, hands smoothing over her bright blue apron.

“Yeah, uh — takin’ this girl out on a date tonight.” He stepped further into the shop. “Got any suggestions?”

The way he’s looking at her, all soft and knowing, like there was a secret joke between them, it couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be her. Her smiling teeth came down hard on her bottom lip as her eyes tipped towards the counter. Unable to look at him for too long without feeling like dancing in some sort of girlish joy.

“Depends.” She walked around the counter, cheeks flushed as she gestured towards the wall of metal bins filled with freshly cut flowers. “What does she like?”

“Roses.” His eyes flicked down to her arm, to that tattoo he had slaved over for six hours. “As far as I can tell.”

“Hmm, I’ve got plenty of green ones?” Delphia suggested with a grin as she walked over to the wall covered in roses.

“God, no,” he laughed, “Roses are supposed to be red.”

“Fine, fine. How many you want?”

“Just the one, thanks.”

Delphia pulled a single red rose from the correct bin, out of habit bringing it to her nose to make sure it had enough of that signature scent. It wasn’t until she turned around to head back to the cash register that she noticed that Rick had been staring at her. A boyish grin on his face and hands on his hips. Her blush was furious as she moved back behind the counter.

“So, where you takin’ this girl?” she asked as she rung up the flower.

“Dinner,” he answered as he pulled out his wallet, “That little Italian place off fourth.”

“Good choice. My favorite place in town actually.”

Those calloused fingers brushed over her own as he handed over the exact change. It made her breath hitch and butterflies hatch in her stomach.

Rick’s eyebrows lifted as he smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She handed over the rose. “You nervous?”

He took it from her gently, careful not to prick himself on the thornes. Twirling it between his forefinger and thumb, he grinned at her sheepishly. From across the counter, she could see a pink hue crawling up his neck and overpowering his ears. It was adorable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life,” he admitted finally.

“I believe you this time.” Without taking the time to second guess herself, Delphia inched her hand over the counter and ghosted her fingers over those roman numerals, danced over the rose on the back of his hand. “So, uh — You really gonna ask me or what?”

He stared down at her hand as it wrapped around his wrist. So small and delicate compared to his rough, broad hands. Though her fingers were probably covered in more scars than his were. He watched for a moment, and so did she. That contrast. His skin darkened by faded ink and her fingers adorned with candy colored rings. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how different he was from her. He was all black and leather and tattoos. She was bright colors and fleece — but maybe she was tattoos too. Maybe it could work. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Will you go on a date with me, Delphia?”

“Yeah. I think I will.”

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments, just let me know!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny @oopsiedoopsie23 @nerdgrrlramblings @ocfairygodmother @reysorigins

[litwitlady]

whatever walked there, walked alone - part one

My Halloween fic which I love writing too much to abandon. Content warnings: mentions of child abuse, Alex is dead and not coming back to life, blood, emo poetry.

Michael Guerin exits the city limits and heads west. The sun is beginning to set, framing the mountains in flames of orange and red, painting the sky in purples and pinks. His phone GPS says the house is 13.3 miles from Roswell city center. A scant ten-minute drive.

A few miles later, the ironwork of the property’s fence comes into view. The house is hidden behind several large hawthorn and plum trees, creating a dense canopy that protects the mansion from the blazing desert sun.

Michael parks outside the gate and pulls a bolt cutter from the bed of his truck. The ornate ironwork is buried in English ivy. He clears the vines away and breaks through the chains locking the gate doors, swinging them open. They creak and moan as the rusty hinges strain after years of disuse.

It’s like walking into a dream. Or a nightmare. Another planet, maybe. The desert disappears and suddenly there’s thick grass beneath his boots. Flowers bloom despite the heavy tree coverage and everything green is overgrown. But the house is finally visible – the cornices crumbling, the menacing marble lions shrouded in yellowing moss.

A breeze rustles through the leaves, sending a shiver up Michael’s spine. He feels eyes on the back of his head and spins on his heels. A cat hops out of a maple tree, sending several birds flying from their perches. Michael laughs to himself and turns back towards the house.

Dead, drying leaves are scattered across the stone steps. The giant wood doors are also locked with chains. Michael makes quick work of them and pushes against the splinted oak. But the doors won’t budge. The moisture and heat have warped the wood. So, no matter how hard he pushes, there’s no give. With a sigh he climbs back down the stairs. Vows to come back the next day with the necessary tools.

And maybe not alone.

But as his boots sink back into the grass, he hears the doors open. A thick, musty scent settles in around him. When he glances over his shoulder, the doors are gaping at him like a hungry mouth ready to swallow him whole. The cat dashes past him, through the doors, and he swears he hears his name whispered from somewhere deep inside.

He swallows hard and pulls out his cell phone. But there’s no reception. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to go inside. Definitely not by himself. Wants, instead, to head back to Isobel’s and crawl inside his warm bed. Wants to forget this dilapidated old house even exists.

Michael takes several deep breaths, reclimbs the stairs. And then he forces himself to cross the threshold into the darkness.

The foyer floors are filthy. Covered in muck and grime, the black and white checkered marble barely visible. Spiderwebs crisscross from surface to surface, collecting dust and other debris he’d rather not think too much about. The windows are all curtained with heavy, velvet drapes – allowing no light to pass.

Michael runs his fingers along a gilded mirror, eyes catching on a group of picture frames still hanging from the garish floral wallpaper. He leans forward, blowing the dust from the glass. Sneezes several times. The photos show a family. Father, mother, and four boys – the youngest just a baby. In most of the pictures, the father is dressed in full military regalia. His wife pretty and unsmiling. The children with hands in pockets, devoid of that devilish charm so common to young boys.

He begins to notice a pattern as he follows the frames down the hallway. Three of the boys start to grow up – getting taller, shoulders broadening. But the youngest never grows past eight, maybe nine years old. Michael feels a sadness clutch at his heart. Wonders what happened to the little boy. Suspects it’s nothing good. And likely the reason the house has been left to rot for so long.

The cat reappears out of a hall closet. Michael startles and watches him dash towards the curving staircase, bounding up the stairs. He looks back at the front doors, making sure they are still open. The sunlight is entirely gone now. He pulls out his phone and clicks on the flashlight app. Continues further into the belly of the house.

In the kitchen, he finds the cabinet doors all removed – probably stolen by some house foraging flipper – but the bowls and plates left behind. An eight-burner stove takes up a third of the room. The gigantic commercial refrigerator another third. There are two center islands and clearly the kitchen was for catering lavish parties. Michael is unimpressed by the cold austerity of the space and is already mentally remodeling.

He putters through the cabinets and stumbles upon a collection of toddler-sized sippy cups. There are four – each with a boy’s name painted across the top. Clay, Gregory, Flint, and Alex. He reaches up and pulls the one labeled ‘Alex’ from the shelf. The cup is cracked and chipped around the rim. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck shiver, sending another chill down Michael’s spine. He drops the cup onto the floor, the crash echoing down the hallway.

Upstairs the cat screeches.

Michael hears his name whispered again.

And then the doors slam shut.

***

‘The house is haunted, Iz.’ They are at the grocery store, restocking for the week ahead.

She rolls her eyes at him while grabbing more cereal. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts, Michael. It was just the wind.’

He stares back at her like she’s stupid. ‘There’s no such thing as aliens either. And there was no fucking wind.’

Isobel, hands on hips, stops mid-aisle. ‘The place is a gothic nightmare. It got in your head and freaked you out. The sooner you sell that place the better.’

Intellectually, Michael knows she must be right. But he can’t ignore doors closing on their own and floating voices calling his name.

‘Do you know what happened to the original family? I think their name was Manes?’ He’d pulled the old deed. There wasn’t much to go on other than the name Jesse Manes. ‘I don’t remember them from when we were kids.’

She grabs a bag of rice. ‘Jesse Manes was a General in the Air Force. Served as Chief of Staff to the entire USAF when we were in high school. Really big deal. His kids all went to some military academy on the east coast.’

‘Was? Is he dead?’ He sneaks two boxes of pop-tarts into the cart.

‘Not that I know of. He was dishonorably discharged. Not too long after his youngest son died. Something about an extortion scandal.’ Isobel shrugs her shoulders and turns onto the next aisle.

‘His youngest son? The little boy – Alex.’

She narrows her eyes at him. ‘Alex Manes. Yes. But he was 28 when he died. Killed overseas. Maybe he’s your ghost.’

‘Wait – that doesn’t make sense. That house looks like it’s been abandoned for at least a decade.’ He tries to do the math in his head. Three years might lead to some broken windows and cobwebs, but not the level of decay he’d discovered. The grime on the floors alone would have taken at least twice as long. And the bannister was literally rotting.

‘Don’t know what to tell you. Happened three years ago. I was working with the General on a military fundraising event. And then, poof! He was just gone. Nothing left behind but newspaper gossip. And that house.’ She looks down at her shopping list. ‘I’m going to grab some milk – meet you at checkout.’ She gives a little wave and rolls off.

Michael leans against the row of shelves. Thinks about what Isobel’s told him. He doesn’t know why Edna May Rollings bequeathed the property to him in her will. Or all that money. Sure, he’d mowed her grass a few times – changed her oil. But the Manes property was worth well over a million dollars.

Nothing was making any sense.

*

Later that afternoon, Michael decides to do his own research at the town library. He pulls up article after article from the Roswell Gazette highlighting the many philanthropic endeavors of the Manes family. Jesse Manes often lauded as a hero. His sons all highly decorated military officers themselves.

In all the articles, he only finds mention of an Alex Manes once. In his obituary dated October 14, 2018. The paper mentions he’d been killed by IED while serving in Iraq. There’s a grainy, black and white photo above the obit. Captain Alexander Manes in his uniform, blank expression on his face. And it’s a good face – cheekbones for days, expressive eyes, and a full bottom lip. Michael stops for a minute to admire the handsome soldier and to lament his early demise.

He pulls out his notebook and writes down the names mentioned in the obituary. All of the survivors – mother, father, brothers, distant relatives. Surely, one of them lives within driving distance. If not, there’s always the phone or email. He intends to find some answers.

Michael leaves the library and drives to the Roswell cemetery. The plots are arranged alphabetically, for the most part. And he finds the Manes family relatively easily. Alex’s tombstone is the white marble of fallen soldiers. But there’s no inscription beyond his name or the relevant dates of birth and death. It’s odd not to see a ‘beloved son’ or ‘cherished brother’. He’s beginning to suspect the Manes family buried more than just their son three years ago.

*

The next day Michael heads back to the house. But this time he’s not alone. He’s accompanied by an entire cleaning crew and Isobel. Who merely intends to rifle through the family’s forgotten belongings and steal whatever trinkets catch her eye. And to tease him mercilessly about his ghost.

Michael does his best to avoid everyone. He has his own mission in mind and doesn’t want to be disturbed. The upstairs hallway leads to all the main bedrooms – master on the left and the four smaller rooms on the right. Each of the secondary bedrooms is nearly identical in shape and size. Except for last room – tiny and dark. A single bed compared to the doubles next door. He knows deep in his bones that this was Alex’s room.

A terrific sadness envelops him when he steps inside. He tries to flip the light switch, but nothing happens – the only light whatever sun fights its way through the dirty window.

Michael starts there – wiping the glass clean. He sweeps and mops the floor, dusts the baseboards, and removes the cobwebs. Opening the closet door, he finds a torn cardboard box tucked inside. Pulling back the battered flaps, he discovers several yellowing journals. Pages and pages of scribbled notes and poems and the various ramblings of a teenage boy. He takes the journals to his truck immediately, stashing them beneath his seat.

As the day stretches into night, there’s no sign of any ghosts. No weird noises. No strange whispers. Isobel has taken every mirror in the house among several crystal dishes. Most of the rooms are as spotless as they’re going to get, the smell of bleach giving him a headache. But the place is starting to feel less creepy.

After everyone else leaves, Michael takes one more trip up to Alex’s bedroom. Sits in the middle of the room and waits. For what, he’s not sure. A presence maybe. Which he knows is insane, but something or someone called his name the day before.

The sun is nearly gone. The room is dark and still. That sadness from earlier still pushes at him, but he doesn’t feel afraid. Oddly enough, he feels safe and warm. And then the floor creaks. Not just once. Over and over again. Like someone’s pacing from the window to the bed and back again.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounds scratchy, dry and nervous.

The footsteps stop. Michael’s breath catches as he strains to listen. ‘Alex? Alexander Manes?’ Something blows across the back of his neck. He swallows but stays still.

‘I’m going to bring your journals back. I promise.’ Making a ghost angry is probably a bad idea. ‘I just wanted to get to know you better.’

Nothing happens. And he feels a sinking sense of loss.

*

At Isobel’s later that night, Michael is curled up in his bed staring at Alex’s journals. He’s anxious about reading them. Worries that what he’ll discover is worse than anything he could have ever imagined. Worries that he’ll meet someone in these journals that he’ll come to love. Someone that he’s already lost.

The first journal is marked 2003. It’s plain black with a Further Seems Forever sticker peeling along the spine. Opening to the first page, Michael is struck by how neat the handwriting is. His own is nothing but chicken scratch. But this kid wrote in neat, tidy letters – not a smudge in sight.

July 2003

Today I am a teenager. And I missed mom for the first time in forever. I came home and dad was drinking. Started yelling at me to put his ladder back where I’d found it. But I never, ever touched his stupid ladder. That was Flint. He didn’t care. And now my ribs hurt. Happy Birthday, Alex.

I’ve only been home for two weeks, but I already want to go back to school.

Michael’s fists clench but he continues.

August 2003

Flint got his learner’s permit today. Dad is teaching him how to drive stick. Will probably even buy him a car to take back to school. I fucking hate Flint.

I wrote a poem or maybe a song that I actually like. Here it is:

‘The hallways are empty

And I am blind

Locked in this castle

Where no one is kind’

I know that’s not much. But it’s a start. Been saving up for my guitar. Greg is going to buy it for me once I have enough money.

September 2003

It’s because I’m gay. Why he beats me and no one else. I will try so hard not to be gay anymore.

Tears burn Michael’s eyes. He picks up another journal. This one gray with lots of cartoon doodles marring the cloth cover.

September 2007

Senior year has begun. The Academy finally feels bearable. No upperclassmen to avoid. My fucking dad has me flying out this weekend to interview at the Air Force Academy in Colorado. Fourth son, fourth branch of the military. None of us got a choice, but of course he saved the Air Force for me. Of fucking course.

I snuck out with Maria last week to sing at an open mic night at her mom’s bar. I’ve never felt like that before – enjoying all those eyes on me. Most times I just want to disappear. Forget I exist. There was a guy – curly hair, big hazel eyes. He was beautiful and I worked up enough to courage to talk to him, but he wouldn’t stop staring at Maria. So.

I guess someone at the Pony must have known my dad. Because he was waiting up for me when I crawled back through my bedroom window. I didn’t beg this time. Just let him do what he was going to do. Honestly, I felt like I deserved it. For thinking that guy might actually want to talk to me.

Michael stops breathing. He tries to recall a night at the Pony from fourteen years ago. But he can’t remember ever meeting Alex. He had dated Maria, briefly. Maybe it wasn’t him – maybe he wasn’t the curly-haired, hazel-eyed boy. But the possibility lingers thick in his chest.

December 2007

I’m not going home for Christmas. Even though mom has agreed to show up for appearance’s sake. A perfect fake fucking family. I won’t be missed. Dad laughed when I called and told him. Called me a coward and hung up. He won’t have his favorite punching bag and I hope that means he won’t turn his fists to someone else. Like mom.

Things with Danny haven’t progressed at all. I thought he was flirting with me at the football game, but he hasn’t talked to me since. He’s shy though – kind of like me – so I think I may still have a chance. He’s not going home either – his parents are overseas on some mission trip. Maybe I will be brave enough to kiss him. I’ve never kissed anyone and I’m already 17. Pathetic.

January 2008

Sometimes I look up at the stars

And your eyes look back at me

Filled with the fire of an exploding sun

Sometimes I look up at the stars

And there’s nothing there at all

Just empty space, hollow and undone

So, Danny is dating a townie girl. I’m always so, so stupid. But I’m not giving up on myself no matter how hard this world tries to beat me down. And it’s trying pretty damn hard.

March 2008

Dear Alex,

you are blue and black and yellow

bent and bowed like the dying myrtle tree outside that window

your pliant plentiful petals putrefying in the blades of summer grass

you are unseen and forgotten, disgraced by the midday sun

blown apart like the dandelion waste of suburban landscapes

wilted and wallowed and left without a trace of your own dignity

June 2008

My father’s hands have spent so much time taking. Splitting me open and unthreading the blood, the sweat, the tears of me. Spilling my insides and then stuffing the gore back deep in the darkest recesses of my heart.

I want hands that will take but give something back, leave something behind. Hands that will heal and stitch the splintered parts back together. Hands that will shape the dark edges of me into something bright like hope. I want hands with wings to fly me out of this nightmare.

But instead I’m going to war.

After Alex graduates the military academy, there are no more journals until 2017. Michael spends the next several hours poring over the earlier ones – meticulously kept records of a broken childhood. One abuse after another. Cracked ribs, a shattered wrist, and a never-ending deluge of bruises.

But also, so many dreams. Alex was a hopeful kid, despite the sad poetry, with music in his future. There are pages and pages of songs – the scratching down of harmonies and verses. Intricate details of chord progressions and key changes. Michael grabs his own guitar, strums through some of Alex’s notes. The songs are simple but refined. He wishes he could hear them sung with Alex’s voice.

The 2017 journal stares at Michael from his nightstand. It’s dirty and pocket-sized, bent and beaten at the edges. Caked in blood. He opens to the first page. Alex is in Iraq – the place where he dies – and Michael’s not sure he wants to read further. But he also can’t stop himself.

November 2017

The desert here is different. Hotter, I think. I am always sweating and never clean.  

February 2018

There was a boy. In the carnage. Riddled with bullets. Bullets that may have been my own. I tried to feel something. I did, really. I tried.

March 2018

Only two more months. And then one war exchanged for another. Clay is getting married. I think I’d rather stay here.

The next several pages are stuck together with the dull, brown ink of dried blood. Michael can’t make out more than a word or two through the thick stains, but the entries seem longer and more rambling. The back half of the journal is empty – filled with nothing but blood splatter.

Michael pulls out his laptop. Something about the timeline feels off. Alex’s obit and his tombstone both marked his date of death as October 14, 2018. That’s months after this journal stopped. Months after whatever nightmare caused all this bleeding. He thinks briefly about calling Liz and asking her to ID whoever all this blood belonged to.

He googles ‘Alexander Manes Iraq death’ and nothing obvious pops up in the searches. But on the next page he sees a newspaper article from a Virginia paper, clicks it open. It’s from summer 2018 and includes a list of purple heart recipients. A Captain Alexander Manes among the names.

So, he made it home. Hurt but alive. Michael’s best guess is that he returned to Iraq before his death in October.

He runs several searches for Alex’s brothers. He gets a hit on a Gregory Manes. Local newspaper photo of him with several kids from a science fair. The school is near a reservation in the northwest corner of the state. He jots the information down but decides to start a little closer to home.

People in Roswell must know the Manes family. And so that’s where he’ll begin. Starting with local business owners. First thing in the morning.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficathon: Mad World

I’ve spent today on uni work and chipping away on Shadow to Light, so instead of a prompt fic, have a sample of one of my WIPs - this one is Mad World, a fic where Alice is the daughter of Charlie Swan’s estranged sister who goes to live with Bella and Charlie. It was an experiment in gothic horror/romance, tbh.

“If you don't know where you are going any road can take you there.” - Lewis Carroll

When I look up at the sky in Forks, I don’t see clouds. Or I do, but they’re obscured by leaves and branches; the forest stretches above me and it’s nice. Private and safe, even though it makes it feel a lot later and darker than it really is. It’s like we’re in a cocoon, and there’s no one else in the world.

I return to reality as his teeth rasp against my stomach, above my belly button, and I giggle, ticklish. I’m splayed across a rock, and it's scratching my back - my sweater is balled up in the dirt, and my shirt is pushed up above my bra.

My fingers twist in his hair and I smirk as he looks back up at me. Jasper Hale; who I sit next to in History and in Trig. His shirt hangs open, revealing a body that will be taking pride of place in my fantasies.

“You okay?” His voice is low and even, but his eyes are sharp. Dark, and watching me. For a moment, I see calculation and something I should react to. Something dangerous. Like he could kill me right here and now; fuck me and choke me; rip me into wet, meaty pieces; beat my skull into dust with a rock. This boy, this man, is dangerous, and I have invited him to get much, much closer. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and he wouldn’t be the first.

And I don’t care. That darkness, that rage, and potential for violence, I’m not scared of it. I haven’t been for a long time. It’s easier to consent than to resist. And more than that, I like that darkness. I like that sharp edge. And what I know of Jasper Hale, I like.

Whatever I am feeling twists and fades into the steady thrum of lust, of confidence and willingness.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say, and tug his hair to bring his face closer to mine.

And that’s how I spent my third afternoon in Forks; fooling around with Jasper Hale in the woods behind the high school auditorium.

—

It’s a rainy Thursday night when I finally, finally arrive in Forks. And in that moment, it is the most beautiful place on earth - the green of the forest, the grey of the rain, the fresh air. It is Shangri-La on Earth, and I am apart of it.

I left North Carolina on Monday, and since then have taken a bus, a train, another bus, another train, and a third bus. I have layers upon layers of deodorant and grime upon my skin; my phone is dead; my hair is greasy from the endless styling tutorials I looked up to combat boredom, and all I want is something to eat and a shower. Anything that isn’t itchy seats, never-ending road, or snack foods would be heaven upon earth at this moment.  

In truth, I don’t feel human anymore. I feel like a transient spirit, a modern-day gypsy, a lost girl. That for the rest of time, this will be my life - dirt and fuel and waiting for an end that never comes. But somehow, I have made it to Forks; the red ‘x’ on my photocopied map is finally a real place, with buildings and streets and people. Forks isn’t home, but it is the most welcoming sight I have had in years.  

I jump down from the bus; a backpack on my shoulder, a satchel across my chest and a duffle bag in one hand. For all intents and purposes, this is all I own in the world. Twenty-three dollars in my wallet, and my entire life in my bags. I could go anywhere I wanted, except twenty-three dollars won’t take me many places.

No one else on the bus carries as much luggage as I do, and no one is dressed alike either - I changed at the Seattle bus station into my second-to-last clean outfit, to try and make a good impression. Everyone else is wearing a jeans-parka-boots combination, which is probably smart with the horrible weather. Not that I will miss the hideous summers of North Carolina. But I get the sense that this bus is full of locals, who busted happened to be travelling from Port Angeles or Seattle. There’s something about them, like the green of the forest, the dirt and mud of the ground, the rainwater has sunken into their bodies and marked them invisibly as belonging to the town of Forks. I wonder if I’ll be here long enough to be marked too.

The bus station is the smallest I’ve been to on this whirlwind road trip - a tiny convenience store, a spinning rack of postcards, a payphone, and endless wooden benches.

Uncle Charlie is right there, waiting for me - sitting on a bench with a paper cup of coffee. Even if he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, I would have guessed he was my uncle. He doesn’t strictly look like my mother, but there is something in the way they carry themselves, the way that they fill space. I don’t know. I just know that he is definitely Mom’s little brother, one Chief Charlie Swan of Forks, WA.

My new guardian - saviour or gaoler is yet to be determined.

“Uncle Charlie!” I put a big smile on my face and march straight up to him - if life has taught me nothing else, it’s that first impressions count.  And not to piss off the person in charge of your welfare. “I’m Alice.”

Uncle Charlie looked up at me, and for a moment, just stared.

So, my outfit wasn’t the best first impression I could have picked. But it was the only one left that I could wear in public - my beloved, holey galaxy leggings; ancient floral Dr Martens that I had laced with pink ribbons; a giant purple and black sweater, and a black miniskirt. Combined with the pancake make-up I had used to cover up my blotchy-skin and dark under-eye circles, my greasy hair knotted in two buns with my collection of dollar-store butterfly clips, and the fact that I smelt like four days of bus, sweat, and fried food, I definitely looked like the devil child my mother probably portrayed me as.

“Mary Alice!” Uncle Charlie recovered. “How was your trip?” He smiled awkwardly and stood up.

“Long,” I said ruefully. “But I’m here now.”

—

Uncle Charlie tried to make conversation as we drove back to his place, as if a truncated game of ‘Twenty Questions’ could undo the awkwardness of not knowing about each other for seventeen years.

And it wasn’t like I could abridge my messy, ridiculous life story into a fifteen minute car trip, anyway. Or that Charlie Swan could become a beloved uncle between the bus station and his home.

Who was I?

I was Mary-Alice Brandon, eldest daughter of Annette Marie Swan-Ackerman, the only child of the late artist Nicholas Brandon. Resented step-daughter of Stephen Ackerman. A granddaughter and a niece and a half-sister. Former prisoner of a remote reform school. Epileptic. A secret keeper, and an artist.

How could I tell Uncle Charlie all the tiny details that made up me, and the reason I was here with him now?

That my mother is no Swan, but a chameleon, a snake, a cuckoo in the nest?

That the last of my stitches came out last week, but the scars still itch like crazy?

That I used to love gas-station slushies, especially pink ones, until I was twelve? That now I love soda, so cold it makes your brain and teeth hurt, and tastes like static?

And besides, what do I know about Charlie and my cousin? He’s a divorced police chief, and his daughter Isabella is also seventeen years old - five months older than me - and lives with him full-time. She attends the local public high school. That my grandparents are dead, and my ex-aunt has since remarried.

That’s it. That’s all I really know. And I am about to live with them.

If I think about it too much, it just feels like another trap.

—

The Swan house was small, but then, so were all the houses on the street. It was old, too, but I’d always known that was a probability. It didn’t make it easier, though. I’ve never done well in old houses. It needed a few repairs - the paint was peeling off, one of the shutters was hanging at an angle, and the front garden was dirt, grass, moss and ferns. Uncle Charlie struck me as a neat and practical kind of person, so this was surprising. But maybe in the spring, I could coax some kind of garden to life, as a way to say thank-you.

We walked in the backdoor, letting it swing shut behind us with a bang.  Inside, the hallway was narrow and dark, with stairs leading up, and a few aged pieces of art hung on the plaid walls - mostly landscapes, and several of fish that were very good, if hideously ugly.

The first thing my eye caught was the mantlepiece in the sitting room, above the fireplace - a shrine to a teenage girl who bore a startling resemblance to Mom.

“Wow,” I said, moving closer. The eyes, the smile, the brown hair - this had to be my cousin. “Is that Isabella?”

“Yeah, that’s Bells. She’s out with her boyfriend at the moment,” Uncle Charlie said, setting down my duffle bag.

“She looks just like Mom,” I said, amazed. It was uncanny - Bella looked more like Mom’s daughter than I did.

“I guess she does,” Uncle Charlie said. “Bells is much prettier than Annette was at that age - but that’s all Renee.”

Charlie sounded uncomfortable, and I had to admit to myself that I was uncomfortable hearing my mother’s name. Turning away from the photographs, I pasted a smile back on my face.

“Sorry, I’m easily distracted,” I said. “You were going to show me my room?”

“Yeah. It’s not much,” Uncle Charlie began. “It’s pretty small…”

“You’re taking me in. That makes everything else perfect,” I said firmly, grabbing my backpack again. “Lead the way.”

—

Well.

Uncle Charlie had warned me that my bedroom was tiny.

It was more than tiny – more like a large alcove with glass doors. The walls were off-white, and a square window looked over a tiny yard and the forest. A narrow bed was wedged against the wall, made up with a hideous yellow bedspread. A dresser was arranged against the wall between the bed and doors. Opposite the dresser was a tiny desk and chair. Jammed in the gap at the end of the bed, next to the desk, was an old laundry hamper.

I was betting I could touch the window and the door with my arms outstretched.

Luckily I was used to small living spaces. I wasn’t sharing with anyone; that was enough to make up for the fact that this room would have been a better closet. Or window box. Apparently, Uncle Charlie had used it as an office when he needed to bring work home.

I set my bags on the bed. This was going to be my home for the next year and a half. It felt overwhelming all of a sudden, that I would be living with an uncle and cousin I had never even met before. It wasn’t like school, where I had shared a room with seven other girls, and we’d all been strangers.

I could do this.

It was only eighteen months. I had been away at school nearly three times that long, and if I could survive school, I could survive living at Uncle Charlie’s.

I had intended to unpack and settle in before dinner, but in the end, I just changed into some pyjamas, shoved my bags under the bed, and fallen asleep nearly instantly. I didn’t wake up until much later, almost midnight, starving and disorientated. I crept out of my room, making a note to buy some kind of curtains for the glass doors to give myself some privacy.

Uncle Charlie and my cousin were clearly already asleep, so I got myself a glass of water. There was a note scrawled out for me, telling me to help myself to food, and that they’d see me tomorrow. I felt bad for vanishing without spending time with them or even meeting Bella, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now.

The house was quiet in the darkness, but I used my phone to carefully navigate - and look around. The shrine held a wedding photo of a much-younger Charlie, and the woman who was my ex-aunt; a sad memento when I knew that Uncle Charlie had been divorced for quite a long time. An off-brand recliner sat near a small, out-of-date television, the remote on top of a TV guide, with various sports matches circled in pen. Several pairs of shoes sat by the front door - my cousin was clearly a strong supporter of Converse sneakers.

The leftovers in the fridge looked kind of suspect – some luminous mac and cheese, a chicken that was nearly picked clean, and some greasy looking Chinese. I ended up slapping some peanut butter on some bread, and drinking nearly half a carton of milk, before vanishing back into my new ‘bedroom’ for some more sleep.  

Peering out of the uncovered window into the night, I could see beyond the fence line into the black of the forest. The tops of the trees cut the bottom half of the sky off perfectly, like an old-fashioned silhouette. It was strange to imagine my mother living in this kind of town, growing up here. But then, I had a hard time picturing my dad and her being married, too.

Lying back, I stared out at the night sky, the slow movement of clouds over the stars lulling me back to sleep.

[thekriseffect]

An Artless Smile (Liam x MC)

[Note: All this Royal Heir business is making me feel extra cheesy lately. I love the concept of MC starting a family, I love the lightheartedness of it, and I love that I have more Liam content to go off of! I missed this series way too much. So naturally I had to write a fic centered around this theme. They’re just too cute not to.]

[Summary: Halfway through her third trimester, Freya is feeling the effects of her pregnancy.]

[Song Inspiration: Where’s My Love- SYML.]

It’s difficult to do anything remotely exciting when you’re eight months pregnant. The highlights of my days, when not stuck dealing with overly theatrical political exchanges, are pretending to go into labor when I’m feeling particularly bored and walking the palace grounds. No, not walking. Waddling. Walking was abandoned long ago when I lost sight of my own feet. Waddling is now my short-term way of traveling. But lately my legs have decided that functioning all together is impractical and that lounging in bed is a far better pastime. So now my highlights have evolved into binging as many shows as possible and seeing how many marshmallows I can fit into my mouth at one time. The answer is six, in case anyone was wondering.

I won’t say that being pregnant is one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had. I’ll think it all I want, but I won’t actually voice it out loud. After all, it is my primary purpose in being Queen of Cordonia. To provide heirs for the throne to strengthen the line of succession… or so that’s what they love to tell me. I should feel honored, I’m Liam’s personal babymaker. Yay, me.

It’s not that I hate pregnancy necessarily, it’s just that I didn’t expect it to be this hard.

I hurts in places I didn’t even realize could hurt. Back aches, pelvic pain, swollen feet, all from a tiny human being no bigger than a soccer ball. There’s stubborn tension in my neck and shoulders that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try. I guess carrying an extra thirty pounds around does that to a person.

My hormones are out of control. One minute I’m so thoroughly happy that I could hug anything in sight and in the next I’m contemplating how difficult it would be to claw someone’s eyes out with my nails. Not that difficult, I’ve decided.

I miss my mother, Wendy Lin. The woman who abandoned me even before I knew what the word abandonment meant. The woman who didn’t think I mattered enough to stick around. The woman who preferred her independence over raising her one and only child. I’m surrounded by fine furnishings in a breathtaking country with people who love me, who need me, and all I can think about is someone who never wanted me in the first place. What would she say if she saw me now? Would she be proud of me? Would she even care?

My body doesn’t particularly enjoy being pregnant, so in retaliation it likes to convince me that I’m on the verge of dying regularly. My feet hurt first thing in the morning? Death. A blemish appears on my cheek while I was sleeping? Definitely fatal. One boob is growing larger than the other? I expect plum hued floral arrangements at my funeral. Due to this I tend to dramatize most situations. Sometimes it’s unintentional, slipping out when least expected, and other times I enjoy doing it just to see if I can get away with it. I think it’s kind of funny. Liam? Not so much.

But most of all I’m scared. I want this to work. I want to be everything that my husband and Cordonia needs. Liam insists that I have nothing to worry about, that I’ve always been enough, but most of the time I’m not convinced. I want to be a good queen, a good wife, a great mom, but I’m just not sure how. How can you be good at something that’s geared to wear you down?

It’s a thought that likes to cling to the back of my mind like sap. It’s constantly there and sticks to everything. And it’s the thing that’s currently causing my face to scrunch up like I’ve swallowed a particularly sour lemon when Liam walks into our room.

I’m laying in our bed with a wall of pillows barricading me from the outside world, watching Pride & Prejudice on repeat. I tend to doze off at certain parts so my logic is to keep watching it until I’ve see all the parts I’ve missed. Mr. Collin’s face invades the screen when I scoot myself up into a sitting position, my back pressed against the frames headboard.

I’m watching Liam silently as he circles around the room, unbuttoning his coat and slinging it across the back of the mahogany desk chair, removing his vest followed by loosening his overly expensive cufflinks. It’s become a routine; me witnessing him transform from King Liam, polished and beloved ruler of Cordonia, to Liam, my adorably dorky husband, every night.

He shrugs out of his shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and firm stomach and I let out a low whistle, causing his head to snap up in my direction.

“Hot,” I say while wiggling my eyebrows suggestively at him. A dazzling smile brightens his face when his gaze meets mine and my breath catches in my throat. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way Liam looks at me. Once, a long time ago, it terrified me that someone could look at me with so much need. So much admiration. It still scares me, even now, but in an elevated, peppy sort of way. One that makes my lips quirk up and my heart rate skyrocket. I never thought I’d deserve a look like that. I never thought I’d deserve him.

Liam walks over to the bed to press his lips chastely to mine. The mattress dips as he leans over me. “They missed you at dinner,” he says as he pulls back slightly to look at me.

I blow a rogue hair away from my face. In a fit of hormonal rage I’d chopped off most of my locks until they sat in messy strands atop my head, much to Bertrand’s horror. “You look like the top of a mop head,” he’d told me. Most days it refused to sit flat no matter how hard the royal stylist tried. And she tried very hard. I didn’t care. I liked the wild look it gave me. I liked how every “reputable attire” was ruined by my spontaneity.

“I got tired of people talking to my belly button,” I tell him while picking at an invisible hangnail. “I don’t know who decided that it’s a cute thing to do but it really isn’t.”

After discarding something onto our ridiculously gaudy dresser, he crosses the room to crawl up the foot of the bed, his arms braced on either side of me, supporting his weight, as he skims his mouth up my swollen stomach. I shiver.

“Your beautiful mother doesn’t like the attention you draw to her,” Liam says into my abdomen, his warm lips brushing against my skin with each word. It’s distracting and causes scandalous images of him sated and spent beneath me to flash into my mind. Sweat clinging to his powerful frame, blue eyes hooded with desire, smooth chest heaving heavily, handsome face tensed in the best way. He should be naked. Why isn’t he naked? Why do I have to resemble a giant hippo?

Liam meets my eyes then, giving me a teasing look and I comb my fingers through his hair, untidying it. I tug gently in retaliation. Wiseass.

“Well it’s cute when you do it,” I mumble, and it’s the truth. I love how much he’s enjoying all of this. I love how his look alleviates whenever he sees me. I love how boyish and carefree and happy he is. It makes it all worth it, every moment.

His smirk broadens as he kisses the stretch of bare skin fondly. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

I consider his question for a moment. “Like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.” Liam blinks at me wordlessly and I almost laugh at the lost expression on his face. “Like an oversized grape,” I try again. “I’m beyond ready for her to be out.”

“Her?”

I hum. “I’ve decided it’s a girl.”

“And why’s that?” Liam asks, resting his chin on my belly to give me that intense look.

“It’s the universe’s way of getting payback,” I explain while tracing my fingers over his face. Brushing over his eyebrow, painting down his stubbled cheek, thumbing against his lips. “I’m not the world’s… easiest person.”

“No?” Amusement dances in his gaze.

“Shockingly. So what better way to get even than force me to deal with a miniature version of myself.”

Liam kisses the inside of my wrist, digits fiddling with the wedding band around my finger, before dragging his mouth along my forearm. “I don’t see that as payback. I happen to like how you are.”

I snort. “How comforting.”

“Does this mean that she will also look like you?”

I freeze. My hand stills its journey over his temple as I wordlessly assess him. He meets my look curiously, pale hair curling endearingly over his forehead and I have to resist the urge to reach up and dishevel it further. Usually so put together, it’s rare to see him this disorderly which makes me love it even more. I twist the rebellious piece between my fingertips and tug it down so it reaches the bridge of his nose. He smiles shyly up at me. “No. She’ll look like you,” I tell him. I’d want our daughter to be beautiful like you.

He presses his nose into my skin and I shift forward, coaxing his face closer to mine when there’s a sudden kick to my ribs. A nervous twitch. A tumbling motion. I yelp, looking down. Liam laughs.

“Someone’s feeling spirited. I wonder where she gets that from,” he beams as he places both hands over my stomach while my belly twitches, smoothing across my ribs and down to my hips.

“She couldn’t be cooperative for just a few seconds longer?” I grumble which makes him laugh again and I can’t help but return his grin.

I’ve noticed that Liam has two kinds of smiles. There’s the one he presents to the public. The one he purposefully uses to emphasis his charming persona, to sway the hearts of hundreds of strangers. To solidify unions and craft agreements. It’s the one he practices the most, regrettably. And then there’s the smile that bleeds too much joy to be anything but genuine. That opens him up like a book, all his thoughts bare and out on display. The one that feels like a gift when you receive it. One that makes you feel so undeniably important.

In this moment I know the one that slips onto his face does so without any restraint from him. It’s too real, too content, to be a creation of The King Liam. It’s just the man I love, feeling the movements of his baby and smiling.

[giftsfornewbabygirl-blog]

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[bestflowerfuneralhome-blog]

Five Outrageous Thoughts To Your Flower Funeral Home

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[disneygeekcom]

Spring is Here! Re-Discover the Magic of Spring as Shanghai Disney Resort Celebrates the Season with Vivid Colors, Original Performances and Special Disney Surprises

Shanghai, February 26, 2019 – Grey skies and rain are no match for the magic of Mother Nature, and as spring begins to bloom, bringing with it a sense of optimism, excitement and inspiration, Shanghai Disney Resort invites guests to celebrate the season and enjoy a fresh day out exploring the resort’s colorful new spring offerings. From March 1 through May 31, the resort will “Spring into Color-full” with seasonal decorations, exciting new shows, food and beverage offerings, stylish merchandise, and more – immersing guests in magic of springtime at Disney.

Starting this March, guests will be able to enjoy the vivid colors of the season, with cherry blossoms, plum blossoms, magnolias, apple floral archways, lupines, tulips, roses and more blooming at different times throughout the spring season, transforming the entire resort into a fantastically colorful natural wonderland.

In the Gardens of Imagination, guests can relax and enjoy the wonders of nature with a four-meter-tall floral Mickey accompanied by three giant butterfly-themed topiaries that together make for an inspiring photo set against the backdrop of the Enchanted Storybook Castle.

A lively new street show will also debut by Mickey Avenue, entertaining guests with a parade of color, music and Disney Characters. Plus, more than 50 special merchandise items are being rolled out, featuring vibrant colors, fun designs and spring scenes for guests to enjoy. A new color wall along Mickey Avenue will also make the perfect backdrop for spring-inspired selfies, while fresh new food and beverage offerings will awaken guests’ taste buds as they experience an astounding array of seasonal flavors.

New Annual Pass Offers Guests All the Wonders of Spring and Access Throughout the Year The changing of the season also marks the first of many new transformations Shanghai Disneyland Annual Pass holders will experience during their 12 months of magic at the park. The recently released Annual Pass provides incredible value for guests, giving them the opportunity to enjoy discounts and a whole year of ever-changing magic across Shanghai Disneyland and Shanghai Disney Resort. Guests looking to extend the magic of their one-day trip to Disney are also invited to upgrade their designated park ticket to an Annual Pass for a discounted rate by visiting a Shanghai Disneyland Main Entrance ticket booth, Guest Services Center or one of a number of upgrade locations that have been added at Guest Services Kiosks throughout the park on the day of their visit. With more priority experiences and special events awaiting pass holders throughout the year, be sure to join in on the celebrations with the all-new Shanghai Disneyland Annual Pass.

This spring also marks the launch of a brand-new Early Park Entry Pass. Guests can purchase the new Early Park Entry Pass via the resort’s official WeChat account to be among the first to enter Shanghai Disneyland on the date of their visit – allowing them to enjoy up to a full hour extra of magical exploration as well as the chance to experience select attractions and merchandise shops before other guests arrive. Guests are encouraged to purchase the Early Park Entry Pass at least one day before their visit to enjoy a specially discounted rate per pass.

Celebrate Women’s Day with a March 8 Half-Day Ticket and Much More! To kick off the season and commemorate International Women’s Day, Shanghai Disney Resort will be hosting an extended Women’s Day celebration featuring an array of themed events and inspiring activities designed to celebrate women. From March 1 to March 10, Minnie Mouse and her female friends will take over the park, presenting guests with a special new surprise to help honor the holiday. As part of this celebration, the iconic Floral Mickey, which greets guests in front of the main archway, will be transformed into a Floral Minnie comprised of thousands of vibrant flowers arranged in a special design in recognition of Women’s Day. What’s more, with Marvel Studios’ first female-led superhero movie – the highly anticipated “Captain Marvel” -coming to theaters on March 8, a specially designed “Captain Marvel” photo location will be available in Disneytown throughout March to help guests snap unmissable photos with family and friends.

The resort is also offering a special Women’s Day ticket that allows guests to enter Shanghai Disneyland after 2 p.m. on March 8 to celebrate the holiday and soak in a beautiful spring afternoon. On sale from March 1 through March 8, guests can purchase this special ticket just RMB 299 for a standard ticket and RMB 224 for children, seniors and disabled guests across a number of official channels, including the official resort website and app, the official resort WeChat account, the Shanghai Disneyland Main Entrance ticket booth, Reservation Center, or via the resort’s travel trade partner, Meituan Dianping. Guests who purchase this ticket will also receive a dated merchandise e-coupon that can be used to receive an RMB 88 discount on a single purchase of RMB 150 and above, with the coupon good for in-resort purchases on March 8 only.

Spring into the Season with Magical Disney Entertainment Throughout the season, Mickey Avenue will be decorated with flowers and polka dots, making a beautiful photo backdrop for guests. Guests are also encouraged to add to the resort’s color by dressing up in bright seasonal outfits and showcasing their own fashionable spring style. Beloved Disney characters will also make surprise appearances occasionally dressing in their new spring costumes to take pictures by the new color wall.

This year, the guest-favorite colorful, large sculpted eggs resembling popular Disney Characters will also make a return to the resort. From April 11 through May 31, the parade route near Mickey Avenue will play home to the new “Disney Color-Fest: A Street Party!” led by Mickey, Minnie and Donald, who will be accompanied by a host of Characters and dancers. A myriad of Disney Characters will join the festivities themed to match the red, yellow and blue floats that transform the street into a grand Disney Color-Fest celebration.

Adding even more cute color to the spring entertainment at Shanghai Disney Resort, the hit “Duffy and Friends” show will return to Celebration Square, with Mickey, Duffy and friends gathering to rejoice and dance with the cheerful lavender rabbit, StellaLou. From March 1 through April 10, this upbeat show will reflect the energy of the season and will welcome guests to join in on the dancing fun.

Novel Merchandise to Fill Your Spring Wardrobe and Accessorize Your Home For a limited time only, Shanghai Disney Resort will launch more than 50 special merchandise items, featuring bright spring shades and fresh designs. Guests will find Mickey and Minnie plush dressed in new spring apparel, wearing cute bunny ears and carrying small picnic baskets filled with eggs. The egg-shaped cross body bag is also back by popular demand, this time with a brand-new double-sided Mickey and Minnie design for an even more versatile look. Exclusive bunny ears, colorful flower headbands and a special egg pin series will also serve as perfect accessories for even the most stylish of spring outfits.

The new Duffy and Friends spring collection features a diverse range of products, including cute plush that see the pals dressed in novel spring-inspired gear, with egg-shaped buttons, flower decorations, butterfly and beetle elements, and more. Guests will also find Duffy and Friends depicted in seasonal egg-shaped designs on mugs, backpacks, and stationery, providing guests with a wide range of products to help them fill their wardrobes and decorate their homes this spring.

Awaken Your Taste Buds with Spring Food and Beverage Arrivals The start of spring also brings with it fresh food and beverage offerings throughout the resort, with StellaLou set to act as the centerpiece of many of the park’s food and beverage treats, from blueberry cupcakes and blackcurrant cake, to lavender ice cream, goblet drinks, cotton candy and adorable popcorn buckets.

Mickey & Pals Market Café is also debuting the first-ever Colorful Minnie Afternoon Tea. With this new offering, guests can enjoy a relaxing spring afternoon while sampling a delicious array of tea set treats including fruit puffs, mango chocolate, cupcakes, strawberry tartlets, and more.

Guests at the Royal Banquet Hall can experience a range of seasonal fairy tale delicacies, including crispy noodles with assorted seafood and spicy abalone sauce, poached prawn and avocado salad, and more, all served within the magical realm of the Enchanted Storybook Castle. Meanwhile, Wandering Moon Restaurant will also offer a new range of Chinese dishes including steamed bamboo shoots, pork meatballs, and braised bamboo shoots with pork belly, further helping guests to enjoy a true taste of spring.

Aurora Restaurant in the Shanghai Disneyland Hotel has also released a new selection of spring dishes, including pâté en croûte, poached Boston lobster, and a brandy chocolate mousse ball – all designed to satiate guests’ appetites as they enjoy this signature dining experience.

Extend Your Spring Journey with a Visit to Disneytown and the Two Resort Hotels Disneytown is also taking on a fresh new look this season, with spring-inspired additions for guests to explore as well as new cuisine, exciting entertainment and beyond. Spring eggs designed to resemble popular Disney Characters will dot the grass and flowerbeds throughout Disneytown, while Judy Hopps, the bunny from Zootopia’s police department will greet guests with a special bunny dance at the Marketplace Stage every Friday, Saturday and Sunday. After her performance, lucky guests will even have the opportunity to take photos with her.

For guests who want to spread out their spring stay and experience all that’s available this season, the resort’s two hotels serve as the perfect place to relax during a multi-day visit to the resort. The Shanghai Disneyland Hotel and Toy Story Hotel will host a special Outdoor Sports Carnival on their lawns, inviting families with children to participate in a series of enjoyable games. Guests will also have the chance to join in on fun DIY activities as they decorate their own Easter eggs and create a piece of magic to bring home with them.

Celebrate Nature with an Educational Family Outing at Shanghai Disney Resort Spring is also a season to learn about nature, and the resort offers a unique outdoor classroom for families and children to discover and experience nature first-hand. From March to May, a Spring Stroll and Botany Class will be held in Disneytown. Guests will be able to experience a series of interactive environmental and nature-based activities with fun Disney twists throughout the resort. Parents and their children are also invited to enjoy a spring stroll around the beautiful Wishing Star Lake and take an educational botany class guided by experts who will share some of the park’s secrets. From April 12 – 22, guests are also invited to the Earth Month Fair in Disneytown for educational activities and to hear insights about species protection and sustainable development.

The popular talking trash can, Xiaotui, will also return to Shanghai Disneyland in April, interacting with guests and providing fun environmental tips on Mickey Avenue and along the parade route. Nature lovers will find more Earth Month surprises at the Gardens of Imagination, where they can earn a “Nature Explorer” badge by participating in interactive nature activities.

Announced yesterday - #ShanghaiDisneyResort Spring Festivities - Entertainment, Merchandise, Food & More (Full Press Release) Spring is Here! Re-Discover the Magic of Spring as Shanghai Disney Resort Celebrates the Season with Vivid Colors, Original Performances and Special Disney Surprises …

[nicebuyflowersonline-blog]

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  Wish your mother a completely happy mother?s day with vibrant tulips, have fun your anniversary with supply of crimson roses, or make her smile with a ?just because? gift of daisies. The youthful youngsters will likely be completely happy planting a flower in a cup, and the older youngsters could also be fascinated Flowers To Buy with planting a whole flower bed. If you store flowers on-line with tara florist & items, you will note beautiful bouquet arrangements of flowers hand-crafted with ardour, consideration to detail, and nice care. One retailer, who requested that solely her surname, cui, be printed, acknowledged that the unique order had not been officially lifted however that the authorities had but to intervene.

  Teleflora's birthday flower arrangements are available all worth ranges and are made up of multiple sorts of flowers, providing you with final flexibility to search out the best birthday current for everyone in your life. All order form info collected reminiscent of title, address, e-mail handle and bank card info will by used only as needed to Flowers Order Online process and invoice your order. From anniversary and birthday flowers, to valentine's and mom's day flowers, flowers by sarah has one of the best selection of floral designs for each unique event. While sending flowers are a wonderful and basic approach to categorical your self, pairing the flowers with a present basket, balloon, or other assorted present, can add to the creativity and thoughtfulness of your present. You can rely on kirby's flowers & items to ship beautiful anniversary flowers, new baby gifts, bridal preparations or sympathy flowers.

  Think about your subsequent occasion accented by a stupendous collection of our hottest kinds of flowers. Identified with terminal brain most cancers and given only six months to stay, maynard and her household moved to portland, oregon with a view to have access to the state's dying with dignity act. The woodlands flowers, your ftd Flower Order Online in conroe, is proud to offer a wide association of items and flowers in your gift giving needs together with wedding flowers and birthday flowers and presents. For example, if the decedent was an avid animal lover and powerful supporter of an area animal shelter, you may specify that in lieu of flowers the household will admire donations within the beloved one's identify to the shelter. These cheerful flowers could be recognized by their giant-disc formed head and long, fuzzy stem. If you'd like contemporary, hand-delivered flowers in tacoma, count on the trusted florists at grassi's flowers & presents!

Tags: Order Flowers Cheap,Flowers Order,Where To Buy Cheap Flowers,Order Flowers Online For Delivery,Buying Flowers Online, Flower Orders

[heregetwellgiftideas-blog]

15 Advices That You Must Listen Before Studying Get Well Gift Ideas

The mexican long-tongued bat is likely one of the species that pollinates agave, but its ecosystem is being disrupted by giant-scale, cheaper strategies of constructing tequila. She was thirty and had had extra procedures than she may remember, starting in school: double-eyelid creation, eye-corner-opening, nose job, chin implant, lips injected to Best Get Well Gifts resemble parted flower petals.” Almost every function of her face had been performed a couple of instances, but she nonetheless felt as if she have been a tough draft, in the process of revision. Order by 1pm (in recipient's time-zone) for similar-day delivery to hospitals, nursing houses and residences.Yellow roses are the best alternative as a result of they convey joy and friendship, making for the proper birthday flower association you can all the time rely on pink roses to please; graceful and gorgeous, they are always applicable to send as considering of you flowers and present how much you care.

Whenever you send get well soon flowers from proflowers, your solely challenge will likely be choosing which attractive association to ship! Ha, joking - kind of. We launched farmgirl with a goal of creating a socially conscious, and throughout higher, different to conventional Get Well Gift Ideas ecommerce flower companies. Push the pens into the flower pot in order that the ball point of the pen is immersed in the gravel. If you need us to deliver flowers to a friend in the hospital, ensure you are including sufficient particulars for us to seek out the affected person. Depending on the colour you choose, a carnation can be utilized as a logo of friendship, love or fascination. Get properly balloons with special messages, fruit baskets that infuse an extra bit of vitamins into recovery, and candy treats that may fulfill any sweet tooth are great ways to help them perk up.

Laughter, they are saying, is the perfect drugs, so certainly the appearance of such a joyful association of get well flowers is certain to hurry up the restoration course of. Our flower arrangements are artfully created and delivered completely organized by professional florists. Hyacinths grow from spring-flowering bulbs and produce small bundles of blossoms that range in Get Well Baskets For Kids colour from blue to white. Shukla, a man whom colleagues described as a supersmeller (the nostril of all noses,” said one), served as my information. Throughout history, yellow has been carefully associated with the sun, making these roses glorious for cheering people up. Yellow roses send a message of appreciation and platonic love without the romantic subtext of different colours.

 If you would like to send a plant that is simpler to care for whereas they get well, now we have a variety of lush, pure options, together with bamboo vegetation and natural palms that can spruce up residence or hospital room with ease. You possibly can trust kuhn flowers for shiny, fresh flowers in the jacksonville fl space.You may even have goodies delivered to allow them to get pleasure from an additional indulgent day. Cheerful get effectively flowers or get properly gifts delivered to someone recovering from an sickness or accident bring with them the healing energy of 100 hugs; they're a day by day reminder that this Get Flowers Delivered setback is non permanent, and you're there together with your full support.  Long related to magnificence and perfection, purple roses are a time-honored method to say i like you.” Whether it is for a birthday, valentine's day or simply to precise appreciation on any old day, there's no better way than a bouquet of red roses to specific your emotions.

Traditional flower companies had been sourcing predominately from exterior of the us, however i assumed that was merely due to decrease costs. Create a curtain of flowers by stringing your favorite flowers and hanging them from the ceiling. Look online for distinctive ideas, inventive flower images and extra inspiration after which get on the market and shoot away! And it too was a violent crime, involved a man with no obvious motive, and afterward had no recollection of what he had done, identical to stephen reitz. Our flower that means information is designed to unravel these hidden mysteries, uncover these floral gems and open you up to an entire new language - the language of flowers. The beginning flower for october Get Well Cookies serves a mess of culinary, medicinal, cosmetic and non secular functions. The daisy is a delightfully simple flower that's renowned for its number of sensible colours. Sending similar-day flowers and presents is a enjoyable and considerate method to have fun a special occasion or shock a beloved one.

Tags: Get Well Soon Gift Baskets, Get Well Care Package, Get Well Gift, Get Well Gift Basket, Get Well Gifts For Kids

[morefloristnyc-blog]

Five Beautiful Reasons We Can't Help But Fall In Love With Florist Nyc

Matt lauer and ann curry on curry's last day as co-host of the ‘‘at the moment'' show. The trigger is extremely close to harry's heart too, and in carrying on his mother's work, it is no shock he selected world aids day for what would already be a particularly excessive profile day in his life. Decreasing and reusing , it turns out, are literally an important of the three r's you discovered in elementary college. Funding offers an inexpensive farmers market on the harlem greenhouse for kids and households. When you choose your supply date for each order, the applicable New York Delivery transport prices, service charges or surcharges, and amount will likely be proven. Flowers from solim flower are expertly organized and hand-delivered to each recipient. It subverts justice; juries give lighter sentences to defendants that show unhappiness. I regret not bringing a giant old suitcase again to ny full of only biscuits.

We lined the cost of supply for as long as we might, however so as to maintain offering the awesome expertise you have come to expect, we have added the price of supply at checkout. Years before he coasted to the republican nomination on a tide of populist anger, he was the first to offer the superrich the prospect to purchase these aloof manhattan palaces in the sky, these physical embodiments of how the extraordinarily wealthy operate at a take away from society. Certified by the new york state training department and using the strategies of our distinguished grasp florists, flowerschool is unparalleled world of floral design training. For the best flower arrangements in saugerties, trust the flower garden to exceed your expectations. We earn an affiliate Flower Shop Nyc commission with every ebook buy, which helps help our journalism at the new york times.

As a top flower shop in penfield, flower barn has an assortment of lovely plants and dazzling present baskets for any event. Kings park florist provides same-day flower delivery on your final minute present needs in kings park, ny as effectively. It was a cool, rainy tuesday morning when i arrived at the espresso store where the category would begin their journey into the center of new york's flower district. He was thought-about a straight shooter who would do anything for the sake of the present. Solim flower can deliver lovely floral presents in new york or anywhere nationwide. I at all times arrive on the eight:30am bus so as to spend a number of hours in enjoying manhattan previous to my 1pm excursions, and the first thing i do is walk through the flower district. Melcher, who's fifty-three, with Best Florist Nyc abundant blond ringlets and a heat, husky voice, told me that she beloved flower arranging and refinishing outdated furnishings—activities that may be occupying her days more usually if there weren't a heroin disaster. From anniversary and birthday flowers, to valentine's and mom's day flowers, kings park florist has the very best choice of floral designs for each unique event.

The daisy is a delightfully simple flower that's famend for its number of good colours. Way back in 14th-century england the white rose was the heraldic sign of the duke of york who faced off with the purple-rose lancaster family, giving the famend conflict of roses its name. Lesser recognized are a few of the more curious occurrences that the day and impending season have to supply. To suit your hectic schedule and last-minute events, ode à la rose offers identical day supply in manhattan and brooklyn in nyc from monday by means of saturday. Flowerschool new york's floral design program is a carefully designed collection Florist Nyc of courses to prepare students for a career within the floral design subject. Click show more, then be certain only the field labeled location permissions is checked. It doesn't matter what your taste or finances, you may trust the brewster flower backyard to ship stunning flowers to family and friends in brewster or throughout the nation.

But you would possibly say a sight totally different if the place was your personal.” They have been mistaken; the upstart's experiments succeeded—partly because, at first years, he labored eighteen hours a day. Just two months Manhattan Flower Delivery earlier, and solely 20 miles away, the twin towers had collapsed in decrease manhattan. You can belief by the backyard gate for shiny, contemporary flower delivery in the macedon, ny area. On the present....eight-time super featherweight boxing champion jelena mrdjenovich reacts to edmonton metropolis council lifting the one-year moratoruum on combative sports activities occasions. Sadly, the flower district has been disappearing a bit extra every year as developers buy up properties. Mockingly, markle's tri-color design is barely offered on the department store Flower Delivery Manhattan saks on new york's fifth avenue, however the brand has confirmed to the telegraph that they despatched her the fashion a number of weeks ago.

That is what fireplace and flower ceo trevor fencott says his alberta shops will probably be like. Harrison flower mart in harrison's professional florists will create the proper gift utilizing lovely flowers. One single mom, shinobu miwa, whose 16-year-outdated son attends programs at child's door, told me she was annoyed that she couldn't ship him to cram school and frightened he'd be at a drawback.

[helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog]

Tristan Thompson Sends Khloe Kardashian Touching Floral Arrangement After Dog Gabbana’s Death

Khloe Kardashian’s man gets it.

The 33-year-old reality star has been grieving the loss of her beloved dog, Gabbana, and her boyfriend, Tristan Thompson, was quick to send her a sweet reminder that he's thinking of her.

“Thank you baby for being so thoughtful! This gorgeous arrangement brightened up my day! You are the sweetest, my love!” Kardashian captioned a stunning floral arrangement from the Cleveland Cavaliers player.

In the arrangement, the white and purple roses are in the shape of a giant paw print in honor of Kardashian’s late pet.

The expectant star has been open about her difficulties with the loss of Gabbana as she approaches her seventh month of pregnancy.

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[casketfloralarrangements-blog]

The Simple Casket Floral Arrangements That Wins Customers

      The ftd® path of flowers casket adornment is a beautiful accent piece that provides an additional contact of floral beauty at their memorial service. A funeral for a friend or loved one could be troublesome, however funeral flowers from randy's flowers by endless creations of culpeper, va might help start the healing course of. Earlier, a gradual stream of admirers and fellow Casket Blanket Of Flowers athletes filed past his flag-draped casket in a loud, crowded havana funeral home to pay last respects to a boxer whose significance in cuba transcended sports activities. Funerals could also be laborious to get by way of, however ordering and receiving lavender flowers is simple courtesy of avas flowers. If you happen to're searching for a comprehensive gift from the entire family, please be happy to browse our multi-piece packages on-line, which often embody a casket spray and standing spray for the service. 

  There was the new mother in nebraska with a history of hypertension who couldn't get her docs to imagine she was having a heart attack till she had one other one. Her lengthy auburn hair, which she used to wash and comb so seldom that her mom once spent 4 hours attempting to untangle it, is now silky and mushy. Others varnish and polish the caskets, and one man was spray-painting the completed merchandise with lacquer. Casket flowers are typically reserved for the closest family members, usually the spouse, children, or siblings of the deceased. Because his mom was airlifted to a hospital in vermont to have her Unique Casket Sprays heart condition handled, bentley says he had a much simpler time along with her. Like a heartfelt embrace, this stunning casket spray delivers comfort and love in a rare manner. Rapid household - larger floral tributes similar to casket sprays, standing sprays, set pieces and small casket adornments reminiscent of pillows or hearts are historically selected by immediate members of the family. 

  Past works have included a new york giants helmet ($300); a new york rangers uniform, with heaps of chrysanthemums painted pink and blue ($325); and the mets logo , complete with the new york city skyline in a stitched baseball ($500). For that motive, it is recommended that you just inquire with the household earlier than ordering a present of flowers for the casket. My sister-in-legislation, zarita, had dressed me in my wedding garments: a turquoise velvet blouse and an extended black skirt embroidered with silver flowers. A small, silver casket Fall Casket Spray bearing lauterbach's unborn baby, whom she had named gabriel, was placed next to it. A photograph of maria and two sprays of pink roses regarded down from the altar. If you happen to're on the lookout for some variety from your all-crimson rose bouquets, we advocate a mix of pink and pink! At a church memorial friday davis was remembered as a gentle man who confronted his execution with grace and dignity. In occasions of distress, it helps to pay a tribute to the departed with the help of funeral flowers for caskets.

  The typical funeral prices $6,560 , whereas a home funeral can cost near nothing. Professor inform said the signs have been vandalized inside months with black spray paint, and the letters kkk” were scrawled on them. Whether or not you are interested in the traditional assertion of a crimson regards casket spray or the peacefulness of the silken serenity casket spray , we provide casket sprays that finest specific a effectively-lived life. Clara's Casket Flowers For Men mother owned an etiquette e book for women, the first chapter of which advises, make your date feel like he is the lifetime of the occasion!When browsing by way of our out there spays, you could even be able to find your beloved's favorite coloration or their favourite kinds of flowers. One of the deepest and darkest red roses accessible, the black magic rose has a big velvety head that totally opens into a mesmerizing star-shaped bloom. The colors of sunset are evident on this stunning spray of sunflowers and roses with accents of different premium flowers and foliage.

  Flames of purple dust whirled across the parking lot, and he sucked in grit together with his smoke. One afternoon, i came by to meet with the news director, dave cohen, a person in his thirties who wore a unclean white undershirt and shorts that would quickly be better incinerated than washed. The ftd® immorata casket spray gives tender beauty and blushing consolation to honor the life of the deceased. Please respect us.” Evacuees and volunteers solely beyond this point: curfew 730, lights out 10, tv off at 10:30.” Two of the pink cross volunteers who had organized the shelter and had been keeping it working advised me that they had been at floor zero in new york four years ago and that, in many ways, this was worse. Angel holt, the mother who'd overdosed on the softball Casket Floral Arrangements apply, instructed me that she and her boyfriend had stayed clear since that day, and she or he hoped to regain custody of her children. Flowers will not only show your respect, admiration, or affection for the departed, but also serve to comfort those left behind.