i insist that the loud noise is the one thing that separated vacuuming from being best sensory experience possible to the worst sensory experience possible. imagine vacuuming if it’s completely silent. it would be so much fun it feels like a beast on a leash swallowing up everything in its way indiscriminately it’s so awesome
hey y'all. tumblr sucks right now, so I'm taking off for a while. not sure when I'll be back. mutuals can dm for my discord if they want it, but just to be clear, I'm not gone forever. just a little while.
The second time Eddie stopped by Harrington Floral, it was because it was his mom’s birthday.
Each year, he bought a dozen Black-eyed Susans, her favorite wildflower, and placed them on her grave. He’d also eat a piece of carrot cake in her honor with Uncle Wayne.
The carrot cake was usually store-bought because he and Wayne were both hopeless in the kitchen, but this year, Eddie was going to try and make her recipe from scratch.
He felt like he owed it to her, and he needed to overcome his fear of the oven if he was ever going to survive on his own. She’d want that for him. Growth. Adulthood.
He had a brown bag full of groceries in one arm, carrot tops hanging over the side as he entered the store.
There was a new display in the window now. This one was called When I Think of You, and it was an assortment of roses, all in various shades of pink and red.
It was a different florist than the brown-eyed beauty that ended up serving him, but Eddie heard a voice coming from the back.
“Rob, I told you I already watered the Anthuriums today. Now, you’ve gone and over-watered them. They’re very susceptible to rot. Be careful next time!”
“Alright, alright! Jesus,” the girl, Rob, responded. She rolled her expressive blue eyes, the freckles on her face standing out wildly around all the bright bouquets. “Flower nazi.”
Eddie wasn’t exactly in a laughing mood, not today, but it made his lips twitch.
Rob rang up Eddie’s flowers. “That’ll be seven ninety-five, please.”
As he handed over his cash and coins, Eddie saw the source of the cranky voice crouching over a potted plant, shaking a bag of fertilizer over the soil and muttering to himself.
Eddie’s head tilted. The flower nazi had a nice butt.
Rob cleared her throat—the fake kind that actually sounded like ahem—and shoved the bouquet and receipt under his nose. “Have a great daisy,” she told him flatly.
“Oh, I’m sure I will not,” Eddie said, taking them.
He walked out still feeling blue, but as he buried his nose in the bundle of Susans and smelled their sweet grassy aroma that reminded him so much of his mother, his steps became lighter.
ah so it looks like nina are maggie are gonna be the parallel that’s so painfully obvious that it forces aziraphale and crowley to confront their own- MY GOD IT’S BEELZEBUB AND GABRIEL WITH A STEEL CHAIR
im about to hit you with an important & fun fact: intellectually disabled and/or stunted adults are still allowed to have all the nasty, insane sex they want!