Tag: no

For a moment, I just stared. Not because of the hovering in midair thing. Levitation charms aren’t exactly rare, although using them in full view of norms is a no-no. But human laws aren’t so easy to apply to a prince of the fey, and anyway, that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was that this particular prince hadn’t stuck his charm on a chair, a bookcase or a rug à la Aladdin. No, he’d stuck it on Slava. Which meant that both of them were about to be way. But Æsubrand obviously didn’t know enough about human charms to realize that. Or that he would need a propulsion system, or at least a good push, if he wanted to go anywhere. Which he hadn’t gotten because he’d been too busy kicking me in the head. Leaving them stranded—for the moment. I stopped staring up at them and started looking around the office, hoping for a grappling hook—preferably one attached to an M16. But I guess Slava kept the weapons elsewhere, because I didn’t see one. Of course, there was another option. “Pull us in when I grab him,” I told Marlowe, who had just staggered up behind me. “Grab who?” he rasped, and then stopped, staring in disbelief at the insanity outside the window.“Æsubrand,” I said shortly, jerking down the office blinds and stripping off the cord. And thankfully, Slava’s impressively tall windows extended in here, and they had cords to match. “What? There are fey now?” Marlowe demanded, outraged. And I had to admit, it did seem a little unfair. “Looks that way,” I said and threw myself out the window. I ignored the stream of cursing from behind me because I had about a second to time this right or I’d be a greasy spot on the sidewalk.

Fury’s Kiss Karen Chance

“Who are they?’” “You said it,” she grimaced. “Vampires.” “But whose?” “Whose do you think?” Damn. never told him they could—” “They aren’t Ray’s,” Claire said, looking at me funny. “Whose then?” She put her hands, both of which were back to normal, I was relieved to see, on her hips. “Did you or did you not tell Louis-Cesare that I needed domestic help?” “I…Not in so many words, no.” “Well, he interpreted it that way. They showed up a couple hours ago and took over. So far, they’ve done the laundry, mowed the yard, cleaned the house to within an inch of its life—despite my telling them that the spell would just return everything to the way it was, anyway—shampooed the cats and replanted my marigolds!”“Your marigolds?” “They said the lines weren’t straight enough!” She looked pissed. No one gets points for telling a Virgo that she doesn’t know how to keep house. “Why didn’t you just dismiss them?” I asked. “Oh, now why didn’t I think of that? Because they wouldn’t let me! That vampire sent them to you and you’re the only one who can tell them to go. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do! And then you’re going to march yourself back up here and get a bath—” “I’m doing nothing of the—” “—and then you’re going to get dressed and unpack that ridiculous bag and come downstairs again and we’re all going to have a nice meal, okay? ” “No, it’s not okay. It’s not safe—”

#Karen Chance, Fury’s kiss Claire and Dory (I should have such problems)
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“Fertile females are like gold in Faerie, Dory—rarer even. And the fey can smell them coming. It’s like…bees to honey. You haven’t seen it—I have.” “Well, so what? They’re all adults. If they want to—” “ Fertile females.” “Oh. Oh ,” I said, finally getting it. “ Is that what you’re—” “Yes! I know what it’s like to be caught between worlds. I wouldn’t wish that on…well, certainly not a bunch of helpless children!” “But even if…I mean, the fey are notoriously infertile, right?” “With their own women, yes. These are not their own women! ” “Okay, Claire, okay. Calm down,” I told her, feeling a little strange because that was her line. “You’re their commander’s I’ve kept them so closely confined? Why Heidar has? They’ll just sneak out tonight when I’m asleep. It’s like babysitting twelve randy teenagers, and I can’t watch them all the—” “So why not get ’em some condoms?” Ray piped up. Claire stopped. And then turned to look at him. “I…don’t think they know what those are,” she said doubtfully. “They don’t have them in Faerie. The birth rate is low enough as it is; there’s no reason to develop something to lower it even further.” “Well, it ain’t rocket science,” he pointed out. “They could learn, right?” Claire was nodding, obviously liking this new idea. “Yes. Yes, they can.” She looked at me. “How many condoms do you have?” “What?” “Condoms, condoms! You must have some!”“Why must I?” I didn’t think sex once a decade warranted it. And anyway, the only guy I was into at the moment wasn’t the type to need them. Not that we would have anyway, considering that I’d spent much of the last two weeks recuperating. And that probably wasn’t going to change, since it would only make it harder when— “Dory!” “I’m fresh out,” I told her. “Well, go to the store,” Claire said, grabbing her purse and shoving it at me. “I—I’ll take the food out. They’ll have to eat first. And by the time they’re finished, you’ll be back.” “With the condoms.” “Right.” “For the giant orgy you’re convinced we’re about to have in the backyard.” “Dory! Just go!” “I’ll go with,” Ray said, getting up. “I need a snack.” Which was how I ended up condom shopping with a vampire. the house in my old Firebird. “No. She’s just…under a lot of pressure right now.” “What pressure? Her kid’s okay, right?” I nodded. Actually, I had no idea what Claire’s problem was. Maybe it was just residual. In about a year, she’d gone from underpaid auction-house employee to fey princess to new mother to woman on the run with her endangered child, who also happened to be the heir to the Blarestri throne. It was enough to put anyone on edge. But Aiden really was okay, with the conspiracy that had threatened his life over and the instigator dead. And he was now in possession of a talisman that pretty much ensured that he’d stay that way, even if someone managed to get past the wards, the phalanx in the garden, and the tense, half-dragon mother. Frankly, I didn’t fancy anyone’s chances. “She’ll calm down eventually,” I told Ray. “So what are you doing here again?” “Living,” he said, which I’d have taken for a smart remark, except he sounded pretty emphatic. But I didn’t have time to follow up on it. The nearest store was only a couple blocks away, and we’d already arrived. Sanjay, brother to Bawa of the world’s deadliest curry, ran it, but he went home at six and some new girl was on duty. We skirted the aisles of Ramen, cards of press-on nails and towers of hairspray that constituted daily essentials in Brooklyn, and finally located the condom aisle. It also housed the diapers and the baby food. I wasn’t sure if that was random product placement or brilliant advertising, but either way, there was a good selection. “So what kind are we talking about here?” Ray asked, surveying a neatly stacked display. “I don’t know. Just pick one.” “Well, there’s a lot of choice. I mean, you got your flavored, your ridged, your pre-lubed, your thin, your super-ultra-thin, “It says it glows in the dark.” “So?” “So what use is that to anybody? I mean, what am I supposed to do? Write her name in the air with it?” “I’d rather not think of you doing anything with it,” I said honestly. “Besides, the fey already glow, so you gotta think it’s a waste of—” “Ray!” I glanced around, but there was nobody within earshot. “Well, excuse me if I’m not used to buying condoms for aliens,” he said more softly. “They’re not aliens.” “Well, they’re not human. I mean, they could have anything under those tunics, you know?” “Like what?” “Like…I don’t know. It could be barbed or something.” “Barbed?” “Well, I don’t know.” He slanted me a glance. “Do you?” I just looked at him. “No, of course not. You’re too uptight.” “I am not uptight.” “You’re the definition of uptight. I bet you and Mr. Muscle Bound haven’t even done it yet.” “Okay, enough with the personal—” “Nailed it.” He nodded. “You wouldn’t have freaked out on him this afternoon otherwise. ‘Oh, no, somebody’s in my head for five seconds, even if it did save my life—’” I scowled. “You don’t get it. He’s not supposed to be able to do that.” “He’s a senior master. They got skills.” Ray shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. As soon as a baby and that he better toe the line. There’s the senior vamps in the family, checking out the new talent, just in case they want to recruit him for one of their cliques later on. There’s the slightly older babies, trying to dig up some dirt to make sure he stays on the bottom of the heap, and so on. And they never shut up . Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak. It drove me crazy for years.” “Is that what happened?” “But I got used to it. So will you.” “Maybe I don’t want to get used to it,” I muttered, examining a box that promised to vibrate. I thought that was my job. I put it back. “Oh, you want it, all right,” Ray said. “The two of you practically melt the walls every time you get within three feet of—” “That’s not the same thing,” I told him irritably. It wasn’t the sex that worried me. I’d had sex; I’d never had a relationship with a vampire unless you counted Mircea, and look how well that had turned out. If I couldn’t even manage the usual father-daughter stuff, how was I supposed to handle something much more complex with someone I didn’t know half as well? Relationships weren’t my best thing. They never had been. Even the easy ones. And nothing about Louis-Cesare was easy. “It is when you’re dating a master. You gotta take the whole package, you know?” Ray said. And then he stopped, and turned to look at me. “Hey, that’s it, isn’t it?” “What is?” “You never dated a master before.” “I’ve been with vampires.” “Yeah, sure. Any regular old vamp—I can see that. I mean, you’re stronger than him; you’re the one calling the shots; you’re the one who says when you’ve had enough and it’s time to head out.” the door. He blinked. “Well, that oughta do it.” I grabbed the basket o’ condoms and went to wait in line, ignoring the looks from a couple people ahead of me, who were apparently not used to seeing someone buying twenty boxes at once. Ray went to lean on the counter, supposedly enthralled by an awesome display of toenail clippers, but in fact snacking on the salesclerk. And, predictably, my stomach curled into a knot. It was one of the things—one of the very, very many things—about dating a master that wasn’t going to work. Ray made it sound so easy, like this was just some kind of tug-of-war, some weird power play, that I needed to get past and I’d be fine. Like all the other humans who eagerly lined up to attach themselves to the great houses. Mircea probably turned away fifty a month, and those were just the ones arrogant enough to try. Louis-Cesare, as the longtime darling of the European Senate, could hardly have attracted any fewer. Ray probably thought I should feel honored to have caught his eye. That I should feel grateful. That I should feel…whatever those other humans felt. He forgot one thing. I wasn’t human. There had always been a love/hate—okay, mostly hate—thing going on with me and the vampire community. I’d tried to stay away; I’d spent years trying. Like Claire said, there were other things to hunt and most of them were much less likely to hunt me back. But there was nothing that made my blood sing, my senses reel, my heart pound quite like chasing my natural prey. to me; they never had been. There was this weird kind of yearning underneath it all, and resentment and jealousy and a bone-deep ache that I didn’t understand. Not completely. I just knew that, every once in a while, the craving got too deep and it was either fight or fuck, and mostly it was the former but sometimes…sometimes it had been the latter. Just long enough to get it out of my system, to keep myself from going crazier than I already was. And then, yeah, I moved on. Why the hell wouldn’t I? If I stayed around, it always ended the same way, and crazy or not, I didn’t particularly like the idea of staking a former lover. No matter how much a few of them had deserved it. But this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was…well, I didn’t really know what this was, since I’d been avoiding discussing it. Talking about it meant facing the fact that this weird little interlude or experiment or whatever the hell I thought I’d been doing had run its course. Because how could you care about someone when his very means of existence made your stomach hurt? Not that Louis-Cesare needed to snack on random clerks when he probably had a whole stable lined up and eager to be used. I knew that. But still. It was what he was . And I killed what he was. “What size you think they take?” Ray asked. I looked up, blinking, to see that it was my turn. “Does it matter? We have plenty.” “Well, yeah. But they’re all different sizes,” he said, piling boxes on the counter. “And what if the—what if they need something like extra small? You got enough extra smalls?” “They’re not extra small,” I told him irritably. “They don’t need extra smalls.” “I thought you said you didn’t know.” “They’re seven feet tall!” “Don’t matter,” he argued. “Plenty of big guys got a Tiny Tim. it counts, the ladies know. You don’t gotta advertise.” The mocha-skinned clerk, who could easily have made two of Ray, snorted. “Well, there’s no way to know,” I told him, “so we’re just going to have to chance it.” “You could call her and ask.” “Call—” I stopped. “You mean Claire?” “Well, it was her idea.” I had a sudden flash of Claire’s face if I called to ask what size condom her fiancé took. It was kind of breathtaking. “You want me to ring these up or not?” the cashier asked. “If they don’t fit, can we bring them back?” “No refunds on condoms.” “Just call her,” Ray said. “I am not calling Claire and asking…I’m not calling Claire.”“Okay by me. I mean, I don’t care. But you get ’em too small and they pop off, and you get ’em too big and they slide off, and either way, it’s pointy-eared babies all ar—” “Ray!” “I mean, I guess they’d go over pretty well at a Star Trek convention, but the rest of the time—” “All right! Stop it! All right!” “It’s not just Claire who’s a little tense,” he said, as I dug around for a cell phone I didn’t have, and then commandeered his. I didn’t waste time trying to figure out how to phrase this because some things are better just winged. “If you’re not buying anything, you gotta get out of line,” the cashier told me. “There’s nobody else in the store.” “Don’t matter—there’s rules. Somebody could come in, and I’m the only one on.” “Start ringing things up, then. This won’t take long.” “Why not those?” She glanced at Ray. “’Cause if that’s your man, I’d say you can leave these off,” and she pushed the three biggest sizes to the side. “Oh, no, you didn’t,” Ray said. “It’s your own fault,” I told him. She might have thought it, but she probably wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t been snacking earlier. But that sort of thing puts some people in a bad mood—usually those with enough magical blood to recognize the theft but not to name it. And the anger tends to resolve itself into a generalized dislike of the vamp in question. And then someone picked up. “Oui?” Damn. I thought about hanging up, pretending to be a wrong number, as cowardly as that would have been. But I guess he recognized my breathing or something—which was disturbing enough right there—because he said, “Dory?” “What are you doing there?” I asked, harsher than I’d intended. “I was about to ask you the same. Where are you?” “Buying condoms,” I said, watching the salesclerk ring up a box of mediums and hand them to Ray. “Why?” “Is there more than one reason?” I asked, because “we have a garden full of randy fey” wasn’t on the approved-conversation list. There was silence on the other end of the phone. “What’s this shit?” Ray demanded, looking at the salesclerk. “Honey, truth hurts, but ain’t no way you’re a Magnum.” “Well, I ain’t no medium!” The clerk smiled. “Yeah, but I was being generous.” “Dorina,” Louis-Cesare finally said. “You do realize…I thought you had been with our kind before.” “I have.” voice had changed. “Who are they for?” “What are you doing?” the cashier demanded, as Ray grabbed another box. “I ain’t rung those up yet.” Ray pulled out a foil package and tossed the box back on the counter. “So ring it up.” She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t bother, maybe because she was watching him unbutton his fly. I caught his wrist. “What are you doing?” “Proving a point.” “Not in the middle of the store, you’re not.” “Ain’t nobody here,” the cashier reminded me, grinning. “And ain’t no way he’s filling that thing out.” “Dorina?” Louis-Cesare’s voice was loud in my ear. The one I had squeezed against the phone, which was squeezed against my sore shoulder, because I was using both hands to keep Ray’s point in his pants. “The fey, damn it!” I told him. “They’re for the fey!” “Which one?” Louis-Cesare asked, his voice going velvety soft. “All of them— No, Ray! Ray, cut it out!” “ All of them?” “No, that’s not what I—”

#Karen Chance, Fury’s Kiss
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duel. It was days like this that made me wonder how, even with his fighting ability, the guy had survived as long as he had. He was honest and honorable and ethical and generous, in a culture that was exactly none of those things. That didn’t even value those things, because “good” was a relative term and being a good vampire was to be like Marlowe: cunning, deceitful, ruthless, overwhelming. Or like Mircea: calm, patient, resourceful, relentless. “Kind” wasn’t in the job description; “compassionate” even less so. Damn it, the man needed a keeper. Yeah, sure he did. A dark-haired, dimpled, dhampir keeper, which wasn’t going to happen, so just shut up . Sometimes I didn’t think it mattered what Mircea did in my head, because I was already crazy anyway. said resentfully. “Quoi?” I sighed. “I’m fine ,” I said, just wanting to get this over with. “I see what you mean,” he told Claire drily, and she blinked at him in what looked like surprise. There was no point in stalling, so I walked over and sat down, really glad that I’d had that drink earlier. Even with Claire’s presence leeching the manic energy off my skin, like some kind of supernatural magnet, I was still crawling with it. Any other time, I’d have been crawling the walls, too—or, more likely, punching through them. As it was, I wanted this done

Furys Kiss Karen Chance 
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lkhofficial:

No matter how weird and magical we might be, having the people you love tell you they love you and mean it… it never goes out of style.

#thingsilearnedfromanitablake #LaurellKHamilton #lkh #anitablake #quote #bookquote #love

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And then Fred came to the rescue. “No, no, no, I got this,” he said, jogging in from the lounge, and talking to someone over his shoulder. “Got what?” I asked warily as he turned to me and grinned. Don’t know why.” Because they’re depressing, I didn’t say, since he was only trying to help. But honestly, who bought black balloons? Fred, apparently, and now he was blowing them up. “Trust me … I used to do this … all the time,” he told me in between breaths. He soon had a cluster of long, skinny tubes, which he then proceeded to tie together using vampire speed. One second, there was a depressing bunch of cylinders, and the next … It was worse. The kids were glancing at each other, like they didn’t know what to make of it, either. But Fred looked hopeful. And then he started moving his creation up and down, so that the tortured appendages hanging off either side flopped about in a dying-bird sort of way. One of the littlest girls made a sound and hid her face.“Fred,” I began, trying to figure out how to say please stop without hurting his feelings. And then one of the guys solved the problem for me. “What the fu—uh, heck?” “Leo,” Roy said, frowning at him from beside the bar. “What? I said heck. And look at that thing.” “What is it?” another guy asked. “A spider?” “A bat, obviously,” Fred said. And flapped it about some more, on the theory, I assume, that he just hadn’t been vigorous enough the first time. “Freakiest thing I ever saw,” the vamp mumbled. “Freakiest?” Roy dropped ice into a glass. “You haven’t been here long enough.” “Then why does it feel that way?” “I have more,” Fred said, finally realizing that his distraction was not a hit. “A lot more. I used to make these all the time—well, the pig bladder kind—” “But were any of them any good?” Leo asked. Fred stopped to glare at him, while Roy assessed his latest attempt. “What is that?” “It’s a clown!” “Oh, demonic clown. Great choice.” gift from someone I cared about, so I just never had. Plus, they had a charm on them I thought the girls might like. It had proven oddly accurate at reading the atmosphere around a situation and giving advice in the form of a pertinent card. And sure enough, practically as soon as I touched them, one popped up. A black one. A black one with a leering devil on it.Well, shit.

Karen Chance Tempt the Stars
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catsbeaversandducks:

Woodhouse And Raven, Best Friends For Life

Raven was in no hurry to pick out a new best friend at the shelter. After all, this was a lifetime commitment. Raven was still a puppy. And last August, she was choosing a kitten at the animal shelter in Lubbock, Texas — a kitten she could grow old with. So one by one, four kittens were brought before Raven. Some didn’t show much interest. Others just weren’t into Raven’s gentle nuzzling. Except that one kitten. A formidable feline named Woodhouse. Woodhouse would be The One.

Photos by Raven and Woodhouse
Read their beautiful story on Love Meow

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maggiemhm:

ivegotalovelybunchofhannahnuts:

tooiconic:

od-kahane-chai:

The goddamn Apple Store is so fucking trendy these motherfuckers don’t even use cash registers anymore. Like holy shit why would I ever want to wait in line to pay for my immensely overpriced lightning bolt-to-usb cable, when I can wander around aimlessly looking for the one bearded top knot in the grey shirt who happens to have a card reader attached to his free iPhone 6? Literally fucking walked up a dude and was like ‘Yo where’s the till?’ And guy looks at me straight in the fucking face and says, ‘Oh well, there should be one or two people walking around on either side of the store who can process your payment.’ ALL OF YOU DRESS EXACTLY THE SAME! Am I supposed to accost every single goddamn one of you until I finally find the one goddamn fucking anthropomorphisized Mac Computer who is willing to let me pay for this shit? And when I finally find the dude and let him tap his shit against the box that I’m trying to purchase, of course he gives me the smuggest fucking smile I’ve ever seen on a human face and asks, ‘Would you like to use Apple Pay?’ Like GOOD LORD can we please just take a step outside of your möbius fucking circle jerk and let me hand you fifteen pounds in cash? Cash money? Real fucking physical fucking tender? No it’s okay, I don’t need a fucking receipt. What, you mean you’re going to print me a real receipt? A physical receipt that I can carry in my pocket? You’re not gonna beam it to my fucking wrist? You’re not going to send it via dropbox to an undisclosed fucking IP Address where I have to complete a CAPTCHA and accept your terms and conditions for the one millionth time in order to check that, yes, I did just spend £20 pounds and 45 minutes on a thin wire made of plastic and metal that’s gonna break in a month anyway? I JUST DONT UNDERSTAND THIS PLANET ANYMORE

This is a masterpiece.

@ahstruxnohtrum
@maggiemhm This would be V at an Apple Store.

I love V’s new anti-apple blog 👌🏼👏🏼👌🏼👏🏼

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friendlytroll:

incurablenecromantic:

Sometimes people like to write things about florist’s shops.  Here are two things you need to know, the most egregiously wrong things.

1. It makes no fucking sense to sketch out a bouquet before you make it.  Every individual flower is different in a way that cannot really be adjusted the way other building materials can be adjusted, and each individual bouquet is unique.  Just put the fucking flowers together.

2. No one — in months and months of working at the flower shop — has ever cared what the flower/color of the flower means.  No one’s ever asked.  It’s just not something people tend to care about outside of fiction and it’s certainly not something most florists know.  You know what florists know?  What looks good and is thematically appropriate.

Here’s an actual list of the symbology of flowers, as professionals use it:

Yellow – for friends, hospitals
Pink – girls, girlfriends, babies, bridesmaids
Red – love
Purple – queens
White – marriage and death (DO NOT SEND TO HOSPITALS)
Pink and purple – ur mum
Red, orange, and yellow – ur mum if she’s stylish
Red, yellow, blue – dudes and small children
Blue and white – rare, probably a wedding
Red and white – love for fancy bitches

Here are what the flowers actually mean to a florist:

The Fill It Out flowers:

Carnations – fuck u these are meaningless filler-flowers, not even your administrative assistant likes them, show some creativity
Alstroemeria – by and large very similar to carnations but I like them better
Tea roses – cute and lil and come several to a stalk, a classy filler flower
Moluccella laevis – filler flower but CHOICE
Delphinium – not as interesting as moluccella but purple so okay I guess
Blue thistle – FUCK YEAH, some fucking textural variety at last!  you’re getting this for a dude, aren’t you?
Chrysanthemums – barely better than carnations but better is still better
Gladiolus – ooh, risky business, someone understands the use of the Y-axis, very good

Focal points:

Long-stem roses – yeah whatever
Lilies – LBD, looks good with everything, get used as often as possible
Hydrangeas – thirsty fuckers, divas of the flower world and rightly so, treat them right and they make you look good
Gerbera daisies – the rose’s hippie cousin, hotter but no one admits it
Peonies – CHA-CHING, everybody’s absolute favorite but you need guap
Orchids – if this isn’t for a wedding you’re probably trying too hard but they’re expensive so keep ordering them

You know what matters?  THE CUSTOMER’S BUDGET.  THAT’S TELLING.

-$20 – if you’re not under 12, fuck off, get your sugar something else
$30 – good for bouquets but an arrangement will be lame
$40 – getting there, there’s something that can be done with that.  you can get some gerbs or roses with that and not have them look stupidly solo.
$50 to $70 – tolerable
$80 – FINALLY.  It sounds elitist but this really is the basic amount of money you should expect to spend on an arrangement that matters.  That’s your Mother’s Day arrangement.  You’re probably not going to spend $80 on a bouquet.
$90 to $130 – THE GOOD SHIT, you’re likely to get some orchids
$130+  – Weddings and death.  This amount of money gets you a memorial arrangement or a handmade bridal bouquet.  Don’t spend this on a Mother’s Day or a Babe I Love You arrangement, buy whosits a massage or something.

Miscellaneous:

  • Everything needs greening and if you don’t think that you’re an idiot. 
  • As a new employee, when you start making arrangements, you can’t see the mistakes you’re making because you’re brand new and you’re learning an art form from the ground up.
  • With a few exceptions customers don’t have a clear plan in mind.  They want you to develop the bouquet for them.  They want something that will delight their little sweetbread but you’re lucky if they know that person’s favorite color, let alone flower.
  • Flower shops don’t typically have every kind of flower in every kind of color.  Customers generally aren’t assed about that.  Most people don’t care about the precise shade of the rose or having daffodils in July, because they’re not boning up on flower language before they buy.  That would imply that they’ve got a clear bouquet in mind and, again, they don’t.
  • Being a florist is essentially a lot like what I imagine being a mortician is about.  You’re basically keeping dead things looking good for as long as possible.  You keep the product in the fridge so it doesn’t rot and look horrible by the time the family gets a whack at it, and in the meanwhile you put it in a nice container.

Anyway that’s flowers.

this is magnificent and I love hearing about ppl job feilds

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“We don’t have time.” “No.” “Then we’re on our own.” And for some reason, I felt the tension relax in my neck. It must have in my voice, too, because Mircea looked at me narrowly. “Is there a reason you suddenly sound relieved ?” “It’s not … relief exactly. It’s just that … well, it’s fly-by-the- times when I truly believe you are the most frightening person I know.” I blinked. “Thank you?” “You’re welcome.” And then we didn’t say anything else. Because we spotted them.

Hunt the moon, Karen Chance
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