#Dazzling Hundred Blossoms

[thekingsavatar-fan]

New merchandise: in-game avatars in traditional outfits (Wushuang style)

taobao/tmall links: [badges] [tapestries] [standees] [signature boards] [3d picture frames]

sourced: @swankitty

[ashessonfire]

Bonjour, lovely!! I adore your fics, your choice of words are just *✧delectable✧⁠* and I'm amazed at how you beautifully written Kaz. If you may, could you write a little fluff with the reader being a skilled painter/sculptor and she helps the crows in art forgery. (I personally love when there's a little angsty yearning in the mix but I trust you will blow it out of the waters). Mercii!!

Stolen hearts - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt : As a crow who specializes in art, what happens when Kaz stumbles upon one of your personal sketchbooks and gets a little jealous? - Pairing : Kaz Brekker x Reader - Warnings : Jealous Kaz, Kaz being an idiot, he gets a bit upset but nothing too crazy :)

A/N : Hi my loves, this is a pretty long one but I ADORED this idea, and so I let myself run with it.This may just be one of my favourite things I have ever written so I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing this!! As always requests are open, and please check my list here for other characters I write for!!

click here for masterlist

click here for characters I write for

(Also it seems as if we are getting closer to finding out if we are getting a SOC spin off!! After the writers strikes we should hopefully know, so lets try keep the Grishaverse fandom alive on here!! <3 )

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"You want me to recreate that in two days? Kaz, the original is painted in oils, they don't even dry in that time!" You exclaimed, peering over the top of a stolen painting at your boss, his gaze hard yet not harsh.

"I am aware," Kaz began, "But that's why I hired you, isn't it? You have not missed a deadline once, and I know you won't miss it now," his firm voice rung out into the acoustics of his office.

And of course, he was right.

Although you would have to take a few shortcuts, you could feel your fingertips twitching against the oak frame of the piece, mind already composing each element of the scene. Tucking it beneath your arm, you let out a gentle sigh, nodding swiftly in his direction before departing from the room.

He had saved you, and this painting was only a fragment in your repayment of Kaz Brekker.

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A fire had swept through your village just beyond the confines of the Barrel, leaving you with nothing but your pouch, filled to the brim with pencils, inks, and as many types of paper as you had been able to salvage. The corners of your paintings began to singe as your home was engulfed, pain piercing your heart as you sprinted down the path to evade the impenetrable walls of flame.

Ketterdam beckoned you into her grip, as you ventured through the dim alleyways until shadow gave way to dazzling light displays. The Lid revealed itself to you, and with no other choice you slotted yourself in with the penniless street merchants that lined the alleys of Ketterdam.

For years, you offered sketches, portraits, and paintings to the rich tourists that marveled at Ketterdam's wonders. Although mere pennies were offered in exchange for your work, it was enough to renew your supplies and evade sleeping by the canal, or being trampled by tourists.

As time crawled along your skills blossomed, transforming your rough ideas into magnificent pieces, worthy of far more than a few kruge. Soon, you began to slip into galleries, memorizing each stroke until your mind could guide your hands without a single thought. Portraits that were worth thousands were then being passed into clueless pigeon's hands for only a few hundred kruge, as your skills were unmatched in the art of forgery.

Little did you know that you were being kept under the watchful eye of Kaz Brekker's wraith, your talents being thoroughly observed and reported back to the leader of the crows.

You were able to swindle the pigeons for a few months until the Watchstadt began to take note of the remarkable artistry of your paintings. Overnight, the tides of your fortune changed, awaking one evening to the thudding of leather against stone, inching closer to you as each moment passed.

In a desperate attempt to escape your fate, you clutched your belongings and shot down a back alley, shadows offering you a blanket of protection from the moon's shimmering light. However it seemed as if your luck had reached its limit, as several guards barreled out in front of you, as your other exits were swiftly stolen from you.

Tears began to blur your vision, lightheadedness overtaking your senses, the guard's words became muffled and distant, as panic overtook your being. You were barely aware of a gentle voice calling you from your terror, a soft hand wiping away the beads of pain falling from your eyes.

In the hours that followed, you scarcely registered anything but your gratitude towards Inej, and ultimately to Kaz who had been increasing the hours that his wraith was sent to protect you. In a few swift meetings, Kaz Brekker had settled a deal with you, sheltering you from the darkness of the Barrel, whilst securing a valuable new member of the crows.

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"Thank the saints that that is over," Jesper all but shouted, falling backwards onto the sofa in the common room of the slat. Placing yourself on a worn armchair opposite, you felt somewhat peaceful as your painting had been so seamless that the entire mission was cut short by a few hours.

After jobs, each crow fell into their own routines to unwind the tension that undeniably interwove into each of them. Kaz's cane thumped lightly against the creaking oak of the staircase, ascending to his room to continue plotting. Hushed whispers often omitted from Wylan and Jesper as they basked in each other's company.

Inej was usually missing, as she was now, exploring the endless expanses of rooftops whilst allowing the bitter air to cool her down. Taking in the couple across from you, and a now slumbering Nina beside you, you reached for the familiar leather binding of your sketchbook.

The glowing embers of the low-lit fire cast soft shadows on your friends, and the light washes of orange and red watercolour aided in your attempt to capture the peaceful scene unfolding before you. However, the absence of a certain presence pulled you from your portrait, thoughts straying to the man who undoubtedly was scheming once more in his office.

Since joining his crew, a small fondness for the "demjin" had harbored itself deep within your heart, impenetrable and unmoving. He treated you with a cold kindness, gifting you small tins of expensive paints, or the latest papers, completely dismissing the fact they were irrelevant to your job.

With a short shake of your head, the thoughts dispelled, returning your mind to the clarity it needed to produce your sketch, the flames from the fireplace dimming as the room began to fall into shadow. The peace that art instilled you with returned, as your heartbeat slowed and a sense of calm washed over you with each brushstroke.

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Settling into his chair, Kaz let out a short breath, tension easing slightly from his body as relief gripped him, all thanks to you. Your painting had exceeded his expectations, not a single person suspecting the image to have been forged, and the original stolen into the possession of the Dregs.

Few things could entrance Kaz Brekker, yet something about the way your colours melted into each other, or the clear emotion engrained into every miniscule detail of a painting pulled him in. Perhaps the depth of your sculptures, or the smooth yet carefully crafted edges of the clay coming to life in his imagination were to blame for his admiration for you.

Kaz's mind wandered as he thoughtlessly ridded his desk of it's papers, hastily stacking them into neat piles as he tried to shake his thoughts of you.

Suddenly, Kaz was startled from his inner battle, gloved fingers brushing against a foreign texture, a hard leather cover of, something? Curiosity urged him to retrieve the book from underneath the blueprints and paperwork, eyes scanning over the front in search of a clue as to what the binding held.

Carefully undoing a well tied string, the front page fell flat against his weathered desk, the candle beside him offering a gentle illumination. Kaz's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the contents of the book, the etches of the pencil being too precise to belong to any person, but you.

The charcoal marks formed on the fraying page to portray Jesper, content as he sat on a patterned bar stool in the Crow Club, eyes slightly creased in content. Thumbing to the next page, Kaz discovered another depiction of his sharpshooter, however this time he was polishing his guns. Unlike the previous image, Jesper was now depicted in a light wash of colour, bringing him seemingly to life.

Enchanted by your work, Kaz continued to marvel at each sketch and painting, however a sharp feeling grabbed at his chest as he came to a realization. Apart from a few pages here and there, the subject that lined the parchment was always Jesper. Turning the pages increasingly quicker, a feeling of dread seeped into his stomach, a twisting combination of jealousy and annoyance building within him.

A gentle knock broke him from these thoughts, as your voice called out in the hope you would be permitted entry. Carefully, Kaz slid your sketchbook to the opposite end of his desk, pretending to analyze a discarded stack of papers before allowing you in.

"Hey Kaz, I was just coming to check in on you, I didn't get to catch up with you after..." you began, speech diminishing as your eyes fell upon the bronzed edges of one of your sketchbooks. Your eyes lit up as you began to grin.

"You left it on my desk," Kaz stated, trying desperately to burry the knot in his stomach, as your expression brightened at the thought of finding the book full of Jesper. "I've been looking everywhere for this one, thank you Kaz," you respond, hastily reclaiming the book, folding it snuggly between your arms and your chest.

"It shouldn't be here," Kaz snapped, a sharp tone piercing the previously warm atmosphere, "It's your personal sketchbook, so it needs to stay personal. Understand?" Kaz bit out, stunning you into silence as you backed away towards the door.

"Oh," you began, "I didn't mean to leave it here," voice cracking as you battled through the shock of his manner, and the hurt of him snapping at you. "Make sure I don't see it again, although I'm sure Jesper would love to," Kaz concluded, practically spitting out your friend's name.

The dismay you felt began to ebb away as you took in your boss' expression more closely, your upset being replaced with something resembling humour. "Kaz," your voice quietly began, "You're not jealous, are you?" you question.

Although the room remained silent, his features spoke a thousand words to you, his eyes widening fractionally to reveal fright, face becoming tinged by a rosy blush. Before you could utter another word, Kaz had guided you to the arched doorway, pushed you through the threshold, and slammed the door before you could witness the tips of his ears turning crimson.

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Through the warped glass pane of his window, Kaz was stirred by the early rays of sunrise, face gently caressed by each stream of light that infiltrated the darkness. Despite the restless sleep he gained, the bastard was surprised he had managed to fall unconscious at all.

From the moment he had shut the door on you, feelings of jealousy and shame had consumed him. He swore he had heard a splinter echo throughout his chest as he recalled the hurt spreading across your face the previous evening.

Letting out a short breath of frustration, he slowly contorted his stiff limbs into a sitting position, and only then did his gaze cast onto the unfamiliar shade of leather perching on his nightstand. Unease began to spread through his body, fingertips sparking with anticipation as he reached over to retrieve the sketchbook.

Frustration began to wrestle with the discontent, as he unwound the ribbon binding the wrinkled pages together, yet the colour of the leather seemed to shift underneath his gaze. Unlike the book he had previously discovered, this one was made of a darker material which he could only liken to the darkness of midnight. As he angled the cover, flecks of gold appeared, the early sun dancing light off of each one, illuminating the leather as if it were a sky full of stars

Nimbly undoing the ribbon on the side, the first page fell open, and to his surprise, a neatly penned note fell out of the cover, revealing an image behind it that Kaz was sure he would have permanently engraved in his memory. A pair of sharp eyes met his own, and his breath caught in his throat as he questioned whether he was glimpsing into some sort of mirror.

With a desperation he himself could not even comprehend, Kaz began to flip through the pages, the guilt he had initially felt now burning him from the inside out, singeing at his chest. Each portrait captured his every emotion, each stroke precise and beautiful in a way he had never experienced before.

Gently unfolding the corners of the note, Kaz's gaze deepened with each curling letter of your short message -

Dear Mr Brekker,

After your discovery yesterday, I thought it only fair to also show you your notebook too. I have one for each of the crows, yourself included, and so I kindly ask you not to panic further about Jesper being the only muse of my pieces.

Love, your favourite artist

P.S ~ You also have a second book, if you are interested.

Kaz's breath hitched at the word 'love' before his mind could even comprehend it, head spiraling with thoughts of you as he pictured your gentle teasing laughter as you penned the note to him. The guilt and shame became so consuming in that second that his chest constricted, and he knew the only way he could alleviate the weight was by visiting you.

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A sharp knock pierced through the silence of your room, pen stopping mid point as you called a gentle welcome to the man behind the door. Kaz's figure slowly filled the doorframe, waistcoat slightly untucked, and hair somewhat out of place as if he had raced to see you.

A teasing grin began to illuminate your features, and the sunrise seeping through your window was more than bright enough to display Kaz's rose dusted cheeks as he averted his gaze. Without so much as a sound passing through his pursed lips, a gloved hand directed itself towards you, clutching onto the dark sketchbook.

You smile faltered, the glimmer seeping from your eyes as your lips fought to stay curved, as you questioned, "You didn't like it?" Kaz shifted his dark gaze to meet your own, brows lightly furrowing as he grumbled "I thought you might want it back."

Your gaze softened as the walls you had been beginning to construct around your heart crumbled, "Oh, I meant it more like a gift Kaz, plus I have several more books dedicated to you anyway," you uttered tenderly. The figure before you lowered his head towards the object in his hands, knuckles whitening beneath his leather gloves as his grip hardened.

After a fleeting moment of your boss' gaze sweeping over your features, he gave a swift nod in gratitude, the scent of ink and secrets trailing behind him as he ventured back to his office. Disappointment clung to your chest at his swift departure, hoping that he would have remained in your presence for a few moments more.

However, as your gaze travelled upwards to glimpse at his departing figure, you noticed how he had faltered in your doorway. His broad shoulders were facing you, allowing you to to observe every deep yet ragged breath that lifted his chest.

"I..." He began, voice so low that it was barely audible, "I'm sorry for last night, I shouldn't have said those things to you," Kaz almost spat out, the words tasting foreign on his lips as he attempted to quickly escape to the confines of his office.

"Kaz," you called out, hope unravelling the knots of anxiety from previously, leaving you with streams of a newfound confidence, "I just thought you should know you are my favourite subject. No one else in Ketterdam seems to have a better facial structure than yours."

Kaz could hear the thick inflections of your smirk within your words, ribbons of humour intertwining with each letter you spoke. Despite your teasing being met with a remarkably loud silence, your words had planted themselves deep inside Kaz's heart.

Racing back towards his office, the beat of his cane against the oak panels of the slat hastened by the second.

Yet not even they could match the pace at which Kaz's heart was beating, as his mind replayed your words over and over in his head until the way the word "favourite" was all he could hear.

Thinking back to your short note, Kaz's lips formed a ghost of a smile, since not only were you his favourite, but he was yours.

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Kaz Brekker tag list : @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @swhisperer @sleepynightchild @atlasiiae @kaiinohh @sannunah28 @at-the-chateau @withbeautyandragendrage @animalistic00 @whos6claire @any-corrie @daisydark @shara-ne @xxinvisiblexx @ldhpeter @viperinferno @kozbtchx @wishyouwere-sober (please comment if you would like to be added to the Kaz Brekker taglist)

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P.S - The best way to support writers on here is to repost / repost + add tags! If you could spend a minute or so doing this, it would mean the world <3

[thelarriefics]

SPRING FIC REC: Below you will find fics that take place in spring, have a springy feel, etc. 

📖 always you (i should have known) by @28goldens (60k)

“Oi, now we’re talking. Came running to ol’ Tomlinson for help, gotta say Harold,” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Harry watched as his eyes looked him over. “It's very out of character for you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t feel too special, you're my last choice,” Harry subconsciously crossed his arms as well, giving Louis his own look over.

“Oh, that's a lot of power, I’m your last resort!” He wagged his finger at him, letting out a cackle. “Alright, hit me with it.”

Harry’s lips pursed as he slowly started to regret the words about to spill out of his mouth, “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

or the one where harry and louis cant stand each other and fake date to make someone jealous.

📖 (I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn by @lululawrence (54k)

When everything Louis had planned for his life falls through, and on his birthday no less, he's left with no other option but to regroup and start over again. The road of life isn't always straight and it certainly isn't always easy, but sometimes it's those twists and turns that find you your closest friends and—if you're really lucky—the love of your life.

Louis just happens to be very lucky.

A Holiday Inn AU.

📖 Blush by @dip-lou-in-honey (33k)

Harry is a young omega, presented at his first Royal ball, when he first meets Louis, the King. They're immediately infatuated with each other, but in the ancient hallways of the castle, whispers travel far and wide, and what they want is not what they're allowed to have.

📖 Tip Toe Through The Tulips by @peachbootylouis (27k)

Ever since moving to Manchester, it had just been Louis and his dog Clifford against the world though it had never felt like enough. It’s not until Clifford quite literally sniffs Harry out while on a walk that Louis realizes he’d been looking for someone like this flower child all along. A fluffy one shot filled with fur and flowers.

📖 To Begin Again by @chloehl10 (23k)

Harry’s ready to spend a fun Easter morning with his two children at the park, but it’s thrown into chaos when an over-excited dog and his owner come barrelling into their lives...

📖 Sakura Sunset by @mizzhydes (16k)

Harry and Louis have a tradition. Every spring they stand below hundreds of dazzling cherry blossom trees in Kew Garden, and year after year they come back to walk amongst the trees and experience that love over again.

This year everything changes. Louis is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity in Silicon Valley, California.

Only after Louis has left does Harry realise he made the biggest mistake of his life breaking up with Louis, and he has to live with the consequences of his actions.

Four years later, Harry discovers that Louis has returned to London, and in an effort to find the closure he desperately needs, he must tell Louis the truth behind their break up so he can move on with his life.

📖 The Prince and The YouTuber by @haztobegood (12k)

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

📖 Love You To Want Me by @rainbowsandlovehl (11k)

Niall coerces Louis into doing 'spring cleaning', which is basically cleaning their flat which leads to Louis finding the pair of braces he used to wear back in early Uni days. Harry, Niall's bandmate has a strange but visible reactions to the braces.

📖 Chubby Bunny by @littleroverlouis (2k)

Harry spends his Easter Sunday basking in the spring breeze while playing games with the smallest Tomlinsons, and a package of marshmallow Peeps.

Louis is stuck in a sweltering bunny costume for the enjoyment of all around him.

Harry offers him a chance to peel himself out of the costume and indulge in some of the fun.

📖 my lap is the best place for you to be by @bottomhaztoplou (1k)

Omegas, especially pregnant omegas, are expected to ride in their marriage partner's lap, usually on their knot, during carriage rides so as to minimise any jostling that may harm the pup.

Heavily pregnant in mid-April, Harry lifts his skirts and sinks down onto his waiting alpha, his body easily taking Louis inside himself.

[kiwisa]

serenade ✩ cl16

Charles Leclerc x Fem! Famous! Singer! Reader

fluff • 1,500 words • sequel to sweet melody

IN WHICH... a song is better than a thousand words.

The metronome that had been counting the rhythm in your earpiece ⏤ disturbing you, if anything else ⏤ finally ceased as the last notes of your song faded away in a transition which you did not notice, too busy catching your breath. The spotlight faded for a few moments, giving you just enough time to take three big gulps of water, which dripped down your lips to your throat and cleavage, already wet with perspiration.

It was hot on stage. Too hot, you thought, wiping your forehead with a brush of your forearm. The spotlights would turn an autumn evening into a summer afternoon by the sheer force of their light, almost as if the sun itself were trapped in those damned bulbs. The heat did nothing to ease the heaviness of your limbs, exhausted by two intense hours of dancing, singing, sometimes both at the same time. Your legs, arms, and back were aching terribly, but you showed nothing. Why complain about a career you had chosen? As they said, the show must go on.

The cheerful shouts of the crowd gradually brought you out of your trance, though your chest continued to heave rapidly as the spotlights dazzled you. You squinted for a moment, getting used to the artificial daylight again, punctuated by a pixelated starry sky woven by the phones’ flashes.

“Usually, this is the point in the show where I announce that this was the last song…”

You laughed at the reaction of the fans, who were quick to boo you when they realized the enchanted interlude that was this concert was coming to an end. The worries of everyday life, left at the entrance of the stadium, were only waiting for the last note to come back and slump on everyone's shoulders, yours included.

“… But today, because we are in Nice, and because this city is special to me, I have decided to sing a song for you that is just as special. This may be the only time you hear it, so enjoy.”

An assistant brought an acoustic guitar and a stool. No one could see your fingers shaking as you adjusted the microphone stand, anxious at the mere thought of making a false note, of ruining what was supposed to be perfect. Hours and hours of secret rehearsals had brought you to this moment. You would not fuck up something so important to you, to him, was going to fall flat.

“Hm. So… Yeah, this is dedicated to a special someone in the crowd.”

It was hard, but you managed not to turn your head towards the VIP section of the pit, isolated at the front, and far more visible than anything else in the Stade Allianz Riviera. The phones were focused on you, on your every move, reminding you that every second of the concert would be analysed and posted on Twitter within the hour, before being relayed hundreds of thousands of times. That was precisely why, tonight, the music would speak for you, and the notes would replace the words you were not allowed to chant out loud.

Unveiling without saying too much.

Private but not secret.

In your earpiece, the metronome resumed its rhythm, but this time you welcomed it. Like Odysseus and the sirens, the first notes of the song blurred your senses and plunged you into a melodic trance in which only a silhouette stood out. The first words were shakily sung, and you immediately cursed your stress, or perhaps your stupid heart, which was beating furiously in your chest, catching up with the heady metronome. A new rhythm that had begun tuning with another.

Young love was beautiful, so beautiful it inspired poetry.

You were no Hugo, nor Lamartine, nor even a Shakespeare. In your verses, no iambic pentameters, no embracing rhymes; simply the raw evidence of blossoming love, even as the leaves of the trees gradually turned orange.

As the first words rang out, you thought back to that damn crossed-out page, its words never suitable enough to explain the unexplainable. How to describe love? Some had succeeded, with rough metaphors, comparisons to nature, to art. You, faced with the white sheet of paper, with the image of two large green eyes in your mind, found yourself speechless, wordless, unable to put into phrases the love you felt for Charles.

“Love,” a word you had not yet uttered. Too soon to do so, some said. You simply thought that “I love you” was not strong enough.

Your head swayed gently to the rhythm of the strings strummed by your ⏤ still shaky ⏤ fingers, eyebrows furrowed. The low, slow, melodious sound echoed through the speakers and into the hearts of the entire crowd. You just hoped it would touch his.

In the middle of this shapeless mass of people, you could only see him, dazzling in his white shirt. The spotlight didn't allow you to see the expression painted on his face, but nights spent admiring him allowed you to imagine it without any problem: his ears flushed, his mouth folded inwards to avoid seeing them tremble, his fingers playing with his ring…

He'd been to all concerts since the beginning of your relationship ⏤ a few weeks before ⏤ following you to Los Angeles for a festival, to Italy for a concert, without ever hesitating once. Here in Nice ⏤ so close to Monaco ⏤ everything was special. His presence tasted of home.

In the middle of thousands of people, he was the only soul that mattered.

Tears ⏤ an overflow of love at his sight ⏤ rose and rolled down your cheeks one by one. He was your most beautiful verse, your most beautiful arpeggio, the last sound added to the harmony that made up your life.

On this stage, the melody of love resounded, until the last chorus:

Qu’est-ce que j’irais faire au paradis Quand tu t’endors près de moi?  Qu’ils le donnent à d’autres, le paradis Je n’en voudrais pas* 

Déjà vu: the metronome stopped, the lights went out, the water was thirstily gulped. This time, however, nothing was turned back on. Applause and shouts rang out, making the floor tremble, or perhaps it was your legs, both tired and relieved.

An assistant guided you backstage. The microphone was taken away, the earpiece as well. A towel was passed around to dry your forehead, back, and thighs. Your heart was beating hard, so hard that you thought it was trying to escape from your rib cage and lodge itself in your temples.

It was finally over. You had done it. You had sung his song.

Five people tried to talk to you, debrief the concert, make changes, but you didn't care, your attention no longer on them since he had entered the room.

A hazel spot in the middle of the black-dressed staff. His eyes were red, as was the tip of his nose. Furrows of tears marked his cheeks but contrasted with the blinding smile he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat, the mere sight of his figure triggering a wave of affection.

You immediately threw yourself into his arms, breathing in his Dior perfume, his musky scent, the aroma of tobacco: a smell that was so unapologetically him.

“Did you like the song?” you asked with a small voice, your head buried in his chest.

He pressed his hand against your head, pulling you even closer to him, as if he wanted your two bodies to become one. His lips pressed against your forehead, and did not let go, even when he spoke: “I adored it, mon ange.”

The tremolo of his voice spoke for him, his wet tone doing nothing to hide his emotion. Charles spoke little, chose his words carefully, did not waste them on wordy periphrases. Thus, he did not exclaim, did not dwell on explanations that would spoil the intimate atmosphere. He merely whispered these simple words with all the tenderness in the world, filling your heart, which was already on the verge of giving out from all the attention you were getting from him.

“Je t'aime.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his three little words, whispered as if they were second-nature to him. His chest vibrated with his laughter, purely in adoration of your reaction, before he took your face in his hands to kiss you tenderly. More tears joined the first you had shed on stage, but you ignored them, content, in love.

“Je t'aime aussi.”

He swayed both your bodies gently, never loosening his embrace, never taking his lips off your skin. Around you, the staff was already packing up to make room for the next day's performer, but you did not care. In the frenzied tempo of life, your sweet melody played off-beat.

FOOTNOTES !

*Chorus from Paradis, Orelsan.

[shinyfire-0]

In chapter 5 of The Phantom of the Opera - The Enchanted Violin - Raoul and Christine meet at Perros and spend some time together talking in the moonlight on the heath overlooking the sea. The text is from the de Mattos translation, available online.

‘Raoul walked away, dejectedly, to the graveyard in which the church stood and was indeed alone among the tombs, reading the inscriptions; but, when he turned behind the apse, he was suddenly struck by the dazzling note of the flowers that straggled over the white ground. They were marvelous red roses that had blossomed in the morning, in the snow, giving a glimpse of life among the dead, for death was all around him. It also, like the flowers, issued from the ground, which had flung back a number of its corpses. Skeletons and skulls by the hundred were heaped against the wall of the church, held in position by a wire that left the whole gruesome stack visible. Dead men's bones, arranged in rows, like bricks, to form the first course upon which the walls of the sacristy had been built. The door of the sacristy opened in the middle of that bony structure, as is often seen in old Breton churches.

Raoul said a prayer for Daae and then, painfully impressed by all those eternal smiles on the mouths of skulls, he climbed the slope and sat down on the edge of the heath overlooking the sea. The wind fell with the evening. Raoul was surrounded by icy darkness, but he did not feel the cold. It was here, he remembered, that he used to come with little Christine to see the Korrigans dance at the rising of the moon. He had never seen any, though his eyes were good, whereas Christine, who was a little shortsighted, pretended that she had seen many. He smiled at the thought and then suddenly gave a start. A voice behind him said:

"Do you think the Korrigans will come this evening?"

It was Christine. He tried to speak. She put her gloved hand on his mouth.

"Listen, Raoul. I have decided to tell you something serious, very serious ... Do you remember the legend of the Angel of Music?"’

(the photo shows heath and the pink granite rocks looking down to the sea at Perros-Guirec. But it was taken on a bright sunny day, not a moonlit night in winter)

Christine then tells Raoul all about the Angel of Music who visits her in her room, and who has been sent by her father. When Raoul is sceptical about this, Christine runs away into the night. Raoul follows her but instead of going back to her room at the Inn she goes to the church where, as Raoul tells M Milfroid, the commissary of police, a few weeks later:

‘“She knelt down by her father's grave, made the sign of the cross and began to pray. At that moment, it struck midnight. At the last stroke, I saw Mlle. Daae life{sic} her eyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ecstasy. I was wondering what the reason could be, when I myself raised my head and everything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, WHICH WAS PLAYING THE MOST PERFECT MUSIC! Christine and I knew that music; we had heard it as children. But it had never been executed with such divine art, even by M. Daae. I remembered all that Christine had told me of the Angel of Music. The air was The Resurrection of Lazarus, which old M. Daae used to play to us in his hours of melancholy and of faith. If Christine's Angel had existed, he could not have played better, that night, on the late musician's violin. When the music stopped, I seemed to hear a noise from the skulls in the heap of bones; it was as though they were chuckling and I could not help shuddering."’

I took these photos of the church at Perros-Guirec (Église Saint-Jacques) in a hurry. I was with some people who kept getting in the way! and I was trying to look calm and collected while I took in the atmosphere of the place. I think all the graves in the graveyard were removed many years ago.

Finally, did Leroux take inspiration from the noseless Saint Guirec, whose shrine can be found just around the headland?

(from Wikipedia!) 'L'Oratoire de Saint-Guirec stands in the bay at Ploumanac'h with a chapel on the facing beach. Female pilgrims have come for centuries to call upon the prayerful intercession of the monk saint for their seafaring husbands' safety. Young women also come to ask Guirec's prayers that they would soon find a husband. The tradition of putting a pin in the nose of the saint's statue is said to encourage Guirec to acquire the blessing of a marriage within one year for the young pilgrim.'

(thank you to @paperandsong who made me go and find him!)

There is a beautiful beach at St Guirec's shrine and I imagined Christine having a little swim there.

Here is a map to show you where all these places are in relation to each other

[hlficlibrary]

Hi there!

Quick question, do you have any recs for fic where one of the boys is a florist?

Hi, anon! So here are a few of my favorite florist au fics!

I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis

Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

Monday by @nouies

A flower shop AU featuring a one-sided feud, puns, and a missing cat.

Say It With Flowers by @reminiscingintherain

From the prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Sakura Sunset by MsHydeStylinson / @mizzhydes

Harry and Louis have a tradition. Every spring they stand below hundreds of dazzling cherry blossom trees in Kew Garden, and year after year they come back to walk amongst the trees and experience that love over again.

This year everything changes. Louis is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity in Silicon Valley, California.

Only after Louis has left does Harry realise he made the biggest mistake of his life breaking up with Louis, and he has to live with the consequences of his actions.

Four years later, Harry discovers that Louis has returned to London, and in an effort to find the closure he desperately needs, he must tell Louis the truth behind their break up so he can move on with his life.

[sennamybeloved]

1﹕midnight.

✧ pairing: ahri x seren (s/i)

✧ word count: 1051

✧ note: first prompt for my little pride challenge!! i've been thinking about ahri, soooo...here's this.

✧ tag list: @minkymeatshop, @connor-roys, @caracello, @dragonselfship

[ reblogs always appreciated // prompt list can be found here! ]

The wild, sprawling gardens of the Placidum look even prettier when bathed in pale moonlight.

Flowering trees reach to the skies above with branches like outstretched limbs. Petals of every color and shape flutter like songbirds in the breeze, carrying with them the sweet smell of springtime as they blow past Seren's face. The stars twinkle like the hundreds of paper lanterns that flood the skies in the wake of the Spirit Blossom festival. The moon, round and dazzling, reveals itself like a pearl, and she can't suppress the awed half-smile that crawls onto her lips.

It's not often that she visits the Placidum. Too long of a walk, too risky of a climb; the cliff formations in Ionia are unlike anything she's seen anywhere else, going straight up and never coming down. The Pacidum of Navori is a strip of land that is practically floating above everything else.

Seren feels like she's floating, too; when she looks up at the sky, she feels like she's dancing amongst the stars. Her home, the moon. The galaxy, her playground. Runeterra, but a pitstop on a longer journey.

She doesn't know how long she sits here, her legs hanging over the rune-etched bolder, her gaze flickering from the sky to the flowers then to the sky again, but eventually, she hears something—it's the littleness noise, but it reverberates like a drum in the quiet of the night.

Seren's ear twitches, her head swiveling to the side, her tired eyes going wide. Before the source even makes itself known, Seren already knows who it is. A comforting sense of familiarity washes over her like a warm summer's breeze. She smiles amicably, tipping her head to the side, as if to say come out.

The thicket rustles, disturbing a swarm of glowing flitterwings; they fly up into the treetops, toward the sky, becoming stars. Out of the thicket steps Ahri. Her long, black hair falls over her porcelain face. She gazes up at Seren with sharp, foxlike eyes, her heart-shaped lips quirking into a smile. Her tails, as white as moonlight on fresh snow, billow out from behind her.

"Seren," she greets, her voice sweet and feminine and deceptively angelic.

Seren smiles. "Ahri."

The Vesani woman steps toward her mate. She kicks up a trail of glowing night-sable pollen as she walks. Some of it settles on the fur of her tails, like little stars or glittering snow. She hops up on the bolder, assuming her position at Seren's hip. She permits her no personal space, and of course, she doesn't mind. Seren snakes an arm around Ahri's hip, tugging her close. Ahri rests a hand on Seren's inner thigh, anchoring herself to her.

Ahri's other hand finds the planes of Seren's chest, bare where her robes are half-open. They lock eyes, ocean grey and firey orange. A connection is found here; a pair of wayward souls bound by magic and love. Before either of them have time to think about it, their lips are connecting. They lose themselves in a kiss that was both longer than it was meant to be and shorter than it should've been. When they part, Ahri is grinning, baring sharp fangs like she's a snarling murk wolf, but there is no malice there, and Seren feels no fear.

"It's good to see you," Seren says, and Ahri responds with a short giggle.

"I've been looking for you. How long have you been up here?"

It takes great strength for Seren to pry her gaze from Ahri's face. The night sky is a priceless beauty, but it can't hold a candle to her. She's moonlight and snow lillies, the perfumey scent of hyacinth flowers and the metallic sting of fresh blood. She's everything beautiful and volatile. She's just everything.

"Long," Seren eventually replies. "Since sundown."

Ahri nods slowly. "It's midnight."

Seren blinks in surprise. So it really has been a long time, then. She can't believe that this place has kept her so transfixed.

"I didn't know the Placidum was your kind of place," Ahri speaks again. If she were anyone else, Seren would've asked how she'd managed to find her, but she knows that Ahri can find her wherever she goes, tracking her essence like a hound tracks a wounded deer. "I thought you were afraid of the cliffs."

"I am, sort of." Seren chuckles gently. "But... I don't know. I passed the gates on my way back to the temple, and decided: why not? People walk for days to come up here. It's overhyped, sure, but you have to admit that it's beautiful."

Satisfied by this answer, Ahri lets out a gentle hum.

The night sky, which is put to shame in the presence of her mate, is no longer able to hold Seren's attention. Her gaze flickers over toward Ahri again. The stars are reflected in her eyes just as the moon is reflected in her hair. Her body looks celestial, carved from the heavens above like a statue is carved from petricite. She feels more honored to be in her presence than she would the presence of royalty. She'd spit in the face of a Demacian general, talk down to a Shuriman emperor as if they were a child, but she'd fall to Ahri's feet and utter prayers of reverence if she was asked.

She's burned into Seren's soul like a branding iron into flesh; the bond that draws them together—a spiritual bond between a mated pair of vastasya that seals their eternal fate as one—is unbreakable even in the face of death. They will always have each other. Until every last star in the galaxy dies, they will have each other.

Those soul-wrenching feelings of love and need creep up on Seren like a thief in the night, stabbing her through the chest, making her heart seer.

She reaches out, cupping Ahri's face in one palm, turning her head and stealing another kiss. This one is longer, deeper; Ahri catches Seren's bottom lip and nibbles gently, and Seren laces her slender fingers into Ahri's hair, scratching gently at her scalp with untrimmed claws.

When they break for air, they're both smiling.

"Missed me that much?" Ahri taunts, and Seren scoffs.

"Sure," she replies flippantly, and their lips meet again, their souls fusing into one at the moon’s appraisal.

[seogurus233]

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[dreaminghour]

Obi-Wan & Anakin - Parade

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 14 Parade Ship: Gen Obi-Wan & Anakin Context: Canon-verse. On the eaves of a brewery in Er-Mar, two spirits sit and watch the festivities. Cross posted to AO3. Words: 1086

Night was seldom so quiet in the little town of Er-Mar. The stone streets were empty, only a solitary inhabitant tapping a stick as they walked. A breeze carried the smell of sulfur from the west. In the sky, long gray clouds traced the path the shuttles had taken as the last of the imperial garrison had fled.

Slowly, the sound of music reached the town.

On the eaves of the brewery, just above where the Nive family lived, two translucent spirits sat. Their forms, should you be able to see them, were bright blue. They were slouched close together, quiet but leaning their heads toward one another as though they were whispering.

"Can you see them?" the younger asked.

"Patience, my young friend," the white-haired ghost said.

"Not that young anymore," the younger grumbled, but he was ignored.

Anakin scrunched his nose a moment, scowling at Obi-Wan, while the other man ignored him and smiled mildly at the cluster of swaying lights that carried chanting and the beating of drums.

"You've dragged me all across the galaxy," Anakin said, "to all sorts of places I've never heard of, let alone set foot on, to show me the same sights over and over. Doesn't it ever tire you?"

"Why, does it tire you?" Obi-Wan asked, tilting his head toward Anakin, his smile knowing.

Anakin, as expected, did not reply.

Slowly the revelers approached.

As spirits were not bound by physics, they had been there at the launch platform; they had listened to the locals yell in shrill and caustic language as the imperial governor fled with little more than the clothes they wore. News had come late to planet Aji. It had been weeks now since the emperor had been killed, his ashes scattered to the solar winds of the universe. Apparently, Anakin had learned, it was not uncommon for the power hungry to vainly hope the change was not real. But change was here at last.

Now, they watched as beneath their feet, a handful, dozens, and then hundreds of people swept through the town's gate. People were banging on tin bells, making joyful noises, buzzing instruments and calling to one another. The Nive family had gone out, but someone was still asleep inside and they now came to the window, shouting and cursing at the revelers before stepping out into the throng as well.

A crack and a distant boom brought the spirits' attention back to the distant river. Fireworks were now being shot up into the sky from the launch platform. Technicians laughed as they carefully lit fuses, daredevils laughed from the nearby shelter of trees as the village itself shook and rattled. The townspeople cheered. Even more visitors came, streaming in from remote settlements and camps. The Nive casks were cracked open, someone was frying sweet and tangy meat, the smell of sulfur more pronounced now.

Anakin leaned against Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan let him.

Each time a burst of light and color was unleashed, people cheered. Large blossoms of green and red, dances of blue, yellow and white, then sparkles of purple, pink, orange lit up the countryside. The warm lamps of the town seemed dim each time the fireworks exploded.

Children and tookas ran between the crush of raucous adults. Eventually there was such a long pause from the launch platform the people began to murmur that it was finally over. Anakin smiled secretively to Obi-Wan.

Then, with a stupendous bang, the finale. Dozens of fireworks went up in quick succession, a rattling roar that was not unlike cannon fire but dazzled everyone. The people gazed up at the sky as the fireworks lit up their entire world, hands held to their hearts as the reverberations shook their entire bodies, made them tremble, deafened and blinded them. One child covered their ears and tucked their face against their parent's legs.

And then it was done. Everyone seemed dazed for a moment, but at long last the night was quiet. The sound of crickets, of distant music, of chatter slowly began to fill their ears once more. Children shrieked and shook their heads to regain their hearing more quickly. Finally, the stragglers returned from the launch pad and the village settled. Not to sleep, but to sit and spend time with one another. Slowly, people began to go home, taking guests with them. No window was dark.

Dawn slowly began to color the horizon.

"Is that it?" Anakin asked.

"I suspect some of these parties will go on for days, if not weeks," Obi-Wan replied, dryly amused.

"No, I meant, is that the last one? The last imperial outpost to be removed?"

"More or less," Obi-Wan said. "Some will go underground; there will always be holdouts."

"You wanted me to see how happy they were," Anakin continued. "That's the lesson here. You wanted me to see how happy people are now that the empire is gone."

"Why must everything be a lesson?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Because I know you, old man."

The sky began to grow pale, birds returned after being frightened away, even wandering among the revelers, pecking at crumbs beneath their feet. Children were being carried or tucked into makeshift beds while others lingered, all but swaying on their feet.

"Yes, I wanted you to see them. Not because the empire made them unhappy, you always knew that deep down."

Anakin dropped his head to hide his face, but spirits didn't blush in shame. These two were so deeply in tune with one another however, that Obi-Wan felt it in his heart. He didn't remark on it, he continued on.

"I wanted you to see the good you've done."

Anakin's head snapped up with fearful surprise.

"Master, don't mock me—"

"Now, now," Obi-Wan raised a hand, "that title is well and truly dead for you, I think. I am your friend and as such, I need to show you that you have done good."

"Not enough," Anakin replied, "never enough to make up for all of it."

"But you've freed them. You killed the evil that poisoned our galaxy—" he held up his hand again— "poison which was there long before you and I had ever even met."

Anakin closed his eyes. If spirits could cry, tears would have pricked his eyes and run down his pale cheeks.

"You did that. With help, of course, but no one ever is alone. Not even when they feel most abandoned."

Anakin accepted Obi-Wan's embrace and wept as Obi-Wan began to stroke his hair.

Thank you for reading ♡ fic log → @dreaminghour-archive

[thekingsavatar-fan]

Happy Chinese New Year! (Spring Festival)

The year 2024, according to the Chinese horoscope, will be the year of the Green Wood Dragon.

[progenytm]

ICARIAN VOHL ; the ADVENTURER of ERDENIA.

—- I COULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT.

hey, listen! did you see ICARIAN VOHL ? i heard the  ELYSIAN has been in vokania for HER ENTIRE LIFE. the ADVENTURER hails from ERDENIA and is known to be VIVACIOUS and CLEVER. word has it that they can also be ENVIOUS and STUBBORN. their loyalties lie with THEIR FAMILY, but you didn’t hear all of that from me. they’re often associated with CRADLING A SCRAPED KNEE WITH HICCOUGHING SOBS, HITTING THE END OF YOUR FREE FALL, GRIPPING THREADBARE SHEETS IN YOUR NIGHTMARES AND WAKING UP ON FEATHERED PILLOWS. only time will tell what fate has in store for them.

full name: icarian vohl nickname: rian age: two-hundred and twenty-one species: elysian gender + pronouns: cisfemale + she/her sexuality: bisexual, but would be open to exploring beyond that label marital status: single and unmarried kingdom + allegiance: erdenia, to their family

height: 5'2" build: petite hair: dark hair with an eclectic array of shimmering stones woven into whatever up-do she’s sporting eyes: brown honeyed eyes complexion: shimmering tan skin that reflects a nearly golden , iridescent sparkle about her elysian: small, yet perfectly maintained wings that are a unique pearlescent charcoal, the grey scales giving almost a blue sheen. the wings are uncharacteristically weak in comparison to other elysians, likely due to the lack of proper care in her developing years, but they've never been able to verify the incident of her birth. they've wondered if her poor elysian physique is due to the possibility that she may be a halfling.

i. most stories begin at birth but as far as rian cares to say, she’s an orphan. who cares for a pair of people who did not care for her ?  they place their dragon blooded child in the arms of a destitute human orphanage and leave, knowing that no one would want a horn-headed baby. but, knowing that there must be a life beyond threadbare sheets and knocking elbows at an over-crowded dinner table full of whining children, she’s gone before she’s even lost all of her baby teeth. when rian spends her nights laying in tall grass, ignoring her rumbling tummy, she imagines herself a loose feather dancing along the skies, never to land in one spot. this is where she lives comfortably: THE IN-BETWEEN.

ii. she doesn’t know where she starts, and she doesn’t know where she ends up, but rian knows that when she looks up one day and sees him, she thinks that elias vohl is her guardian angel. her takes her under his wing. literally. she’s a frail little thing — already the runt of the orphanage with her chicken-sized wings, she’s even weaker after travelling alone and on foot for what feels like months. it takes some time, but with his gentle care, rian sheds the the hurt and stops running — no longer afraid that she’ll be left behind again. she opens up like a flower, blossoming in the sea salt breeze and dazzling summer heat. 

iii. one day, rian wakes up and decides that she wants to spread her wings. she bids her dear papa goodbye with a kiss to each of his tear-stained cheeks and sets out on her second great journey. she travels to each of the kingdoms, looking for home but nothing feels as right as the days in the erdenia. but, never one to return with her tail between her legs, she travels on. she's never quite made peace with the solitude of journeying, seeking companionship on her travels. rian is coming to learn that she very much like exploring with friends in pursuit of the next great adventure. papa vohl was great company, but unlike her travelling party, she was sure that he would pop a blood vessel if she suggested exploring the churon forests for fun.

iv. in analyzing rian's personality, her abandonment issues are the loudest thing about her ( and that's saying something ). she's clingy but will do everything she can to hide it, her fragile heart being poorly guarded. she makes friends easily, perhaps too easily, growing fond off them and immediately fearing they'll leave. rian has a nasty green eye, greedy little fingers like a magpie. she's a bit like a child, thanks to elias' coddling but she's well-meaning all in all !

tdlr ; little dragon runaway never stops running

[heightstm]

❛❛ — you’re soft, soft like spring flowers and sunsets and the white feathers inside your pillow. ❜❜

. ✧ . * . ˚  ━━ ｢  COURTNEY EATON,  CISFEMALE,  SHE/HER.  ｣  welcome IPHIGENIA VOHL,  the  EMISSARY  of  THE DAWN COURT,  to  velaris!  it  is  well  known  that  the  25  /  587  year  old  PEREGRYN  is  VIVACIOUS  and  CLEVER.  it  is  a  lesser  known  fact  that  they  are  also  ANALYTICAL  and  STUBBORN.  however,  it  is  running rough bristles over the white of your wings, barely noticing the disarming nature of a pretty smile, feeling far too young for your aging bones, the satisfaction of plucking an imperfect feather from your back and ignoring its sting  that  truly  define  who  they  are.  in  the  shadows,  their  alliance  with  THEMSELVES makes  them  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with.  truly,  who  knows  what  to  expect  of  them.  cauldron  save  them,  mother  hold  them.

full name: iphigenia nassa vohl nickname: iggy, piggy, pip, gen age: five hundred and eighty-seven, biologically twenty-five species: peregryn ( self-identified winged fey of the dawn court ) gender + pronouns: cisfemale + she/her sexuality: bisexual, but would be open to exploring beyond that label marital status: single and unmarried court + allegiance: of the dawn court, loyal to the dawn court and themselves.

height: 5'2" build: petite , but those in correspondence with her are usually surprised as she is much smaller than they envisioned , most likely due to her malnourishment in her younger years hair: dark hair with an eclectic array of shimmering stones woven into whatever up-do she's sporting eyes: brown honeyed eyes complexion: shimmering tan skin that reflects a nearly golden , iridescent sparkle about her fae: perfectly fluffed and maintained wings that are pristinely white as achieved through at-home remedies. the wings are tiny , but they can get her far enough.

i. most stories begin at birth but as far as iphigenia cares to say, she’s an orphan. who cares for a pair of people who did not care for her ?  they place her in the arms of a destitute orphanage and leave. but, knowing that there must be a life beyond threadbare sheets and knocking elbows at an over-crowded dinner table full of whining children, she’s gone before she’s even lost all of her baby teeth. when she spends her nights laying in tall grass, ignoring her rumbling tummy, she imagines herself a loose feather dancing along the skies, never to land in one spot. this is where she lives comfortably: THE IN-BETWEEN.

ii. she doesn’t know where she starts, and she doesn’t know where she ends up, but iphigenia knows that when she looks up one day and sees him, she thinks that elias vohl is her guardian angel. her takes her under his wing. literally. she’s a frail little thing — already the runt of the orphanage with her chicken-sized wings, she’s even weaker after travelling alone and on foot for what feels like months. it takes some time, but with his gentle care, iphigenia sheds the the hurt and stops running — no longer afraid that she’ll be left behind again. she opens up like a flower, blossoming in the sea salt breeze and dazzling summer heat. 

iii. what business does a former street rat have rubbing shoulders in court  ?  one day, iphigenia decides that she wants to spread her wings. she bids her dear papa goodbye with a kiss to each of his tear-stained cheeks and sets out on her second great journey. she travels to each of the courts , looking for home but nothing feels as right as the days in the summer court. but, never one to return with her tail between her legs, she decides that the dawn court must be home. why else has iphigenia called herself a peregryn for all these years  ?  she learns to take care of herself by pulling herself up by the bootstraps. a pretty face is a dime-a-dozen in a land where they’re all disgustingly beautiful, but her charm and her willingness to do anything is what sets her apart from the rest. it’s decades of petting egos, and disarming smiles, and all but grovelling at the feet of the high fae. 

iv. possible connections: people who thinks she's out of line and generally just don’t like her ! someone who is in love with her ! maybe she loves them back !

[giftofflight]

A Splash of Color: The Fascinating World of Lories

Lories, also sometimes called lorikeets, are a captivating group of parrots known for their dazzling plumage and unique adaptations for a sugary diet. These feathered jewels belong to the tribe Loriini, which includes 56 vibrant species found in the tropical regions of Australia, New Guinea, and surrounding islands.

A Rainbow of Feathers

One of the most striking features of a lory is its breathtaking color. Lories come in a kaleidoscope of colors, with reds, greens, blues, yellows, and oranges being particularly common. This vibrant plumage is thought to play a role in attracting mates and deterring predators.

Built for the Sweet Life

Lories are unlike most parrots. Their primary food source isn't seeds and nuts, but nectar and pollen. To efficiently extract these sugary treats from flowers, lories have evolved a specialized brush-tipped tongue. This unique tongue, rough and fringed like a tiny pipe cleaner, allows them to reach deep within blossoms and collect the hidden nectar. Their diet also includes soft fruits and occasionally insects.

Life in the Trees

Lories are arboreal birds, meaning they spend most of their time living in trees. They are highly social creatures, often forming large flocks that can number in the hundreds. These flocks can be quite a sight to behold, as they flit from branch to branch, their colorful plumage a dazzling display against the green backdrop of the rainforest.

Not Your Average Parrot

Lories can be intelligent and playful companions, but they are not the ideal pet for everyone. Their specialized diet requires specific care, and their high energy levels necessitate spacious cages and plenty of out-of-cage time. Additionally, their tendency to be messy eaters and their loud vocalizations make them a less suitable choice for some households.

Threats in Paradise

Sadly, these beautiful birds face threats in their natural habitat. Habitat loss due to deforestation and the illegal pet trade are significant concerns. Additionally, some lory species have become agricultural pests, feeding on crops such as fruits and nuts. Conservation efforts are underway to protect lories and ensure their continued existence in the wild.

Lories are a remarkable group of parrots with a unique combination of beauty, intelligence, and specialized adaptations. By learning more about these fascinating birds, we can help ensure their survival and appreciate the vibrant role they play in the ecosystem.

[cattosrinon]

꒰১ ׅ   ֹ    🌷  ୧    ۫ ﹢   ׅ   ☆   ⭐

in compliance with X's latest policy updates, i hereby declare that this account is exclusively dedicated to roleplay purposes. this account is not affiliated or associated in any way with the idol Murakami Rinon from ME:I. all contents shared are not affiliated with the real artist.

Fiery Cuteness ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

𝒯he absolute bundle of sunshine — Murakami Rinon, or lovingly call her, Rinon. born on the 30th of September in the magical year of 2006, she's got that September sparkle that just lights up the room. hailing from the land of charm and cherry blossoms, Okayama, Japan, Rinon is like a living, breathing kawaii dream.

rocking that INFP vibe, like a sprinkle of fairy dust in every interaction. hold your hearts, because this girl isn't just about good vibes; she's got the numbers to prove it! ranked a dazzling 2 in "Produce 101 Japan: The Girls," she stole hearts and wracked up an astounding 700,305 votes. you heard me right – seven hundred thousand and then some!

she's part of the dreamy 11 member Japanese girl group, ME:I (ミーアイ; 미아이), formed by PRODUCE 101 JAPAN 'THE GIRLS'. ME:I – the name alone is like a promise of rainbows and unicorn dreams. it stands for an idol loved by everyone, an idol of the future, and moving forward together toward the future.

in a world adorned with captivating allure, this enchanting maiden effortlessly embodies the epitome of beauty, her visage a masterpiece crafted with celestial precision. her countenance, resplendent and beguiling, is a symphony of delicate features that seamlessly harmonize to compose a portrait of unparalleled loveliness.

to encounter such beauty is to be granted a glimpse into a realm where the ordinary surrenders to the extraordinary and where every facet of existence is touched by the divine hand of aesthetics. the sublime and the earthly converge, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of beauty that transcends the confines of mortal comprehension.

 ⊹ ꒰꒰  ֹ  ﹢  ♡  ͜ 🥞  ͜♡ ﹢  ֹ  ꒱꒱ ⊹ 

lovingly

the writer, Kirara Blythe

[misdrnet]

The Sihui jade exhibition group appeared at the China International (Beijing) Jewelry Exhibition! The Sihui won two gold medals and one silver medal, and the "Tiangong Competition" was in full bloom!

Sihui Release 2023-10-28 12:38 Published in Guangdong

On October 26, the 2023 China International Jewelry Exhibition, an industry event jointly sponsored by the China Jewelry, Jade and Jewelry Industry Association and the National Jewelry and Jade Inspection Group, grandly opened at the China International Exhibition Center (Chaoyang Pavilion)! The Sihui Jade Exhibition Group was unveiled. Cai Xueli, member of the Standing Committee of the Municipal Party Committee, Minister of the United Front Work Department, and Deputy Secretary of the CPPCC Party Group, was invited to attend the opening ceremony and visit the Sihui Jade Exhibition Area.

During the event, Cai Xueli and her party came to the Sihui Jade Exhibition Area to cheer for the Sihui Jade Exhibition Group, and met and talked with the exhibitors one by one to learn more about the exhibition and sales of Sihui Jade products, and listened to the exhibitors’ opinions on market conditions, operating conditions, and products. R&D and other introductions, to affirm and praise the efforts of the merchants of the Sihui Jade Exhibition Group in carefully preparing for this exhibition, exhibiting high-quality, Sihui-flavored jade products, and showing the elegance of Sihui jade to China and even the world, and The Sihui Jade Exhibition Group is encouraged to organize multiple groups to go out and polish the "Sihui Jade" brand in all aspects.

This year, the Sihui will be planned in advance.

23 powerful brand enterprises have been carefully organized.

Formed the Sihui Jade Exhibition Group,

Appeared in Hall 4 of Beijing Jewelry Exhibition,

A total of ornaments, pendants, jade bracelets,

More than 6,000 pieces of fine jade items such as small jewelry

At the same time, 11 high-quality products were selected.

Participate in the 2023 Tiangong Jade Sculpture Competition and Exhibition.

A dazzling array of exquisite Sihui jades

Let the Sihui Jade Exhibition Group become

One of the most dazzling exhibition groups at the 2023 China International Jewelry Show,

Attracting many jewelry and jade enthusiasts at home and abroad

Stop and visit for a taste.

It is understood that at this exhibition, Sihui will present our city’s diversified jadeite products to the public with a brand-new look, focus on promoting and publicizing the “Sihui Jade” brand, and enhance the visibility and reputation of “Sihui Jade” ; At the same time, each exhibitor not only demonstrated the company's own image, culture and strength, but also found more development opportunities through communication, learning, and understanding of market development trends and consumer consumption concepts.

During the same period of the exhibition,

Also to the Tiangong Jade Sculpture Competition

The winning works are on display.

△Cai Xueli, member of the Standing Committee of the Sihui Municipal Committee and Minister of the United Front Work Department, visited the award-winning works.

in,

The Four Clubs won two gold medals and one silver medal!

These works show the elegance of "Sihui Jade Carving",

And the result of the ingenious research of Sihui jade carving people!

gold medal Zheng Guoliu - "Picture of Maitreya's Hundred Sons" picture gold medal Allison Jade - "The Shadow of Time" picture Silver Award Wei Liefeng - "Ice Plum Blossoms Full of Fragrant Red Branches" picture

Jade culture is inherited from the four societies.

This exhibition will last until October 30th.

Friends who are interested,

Looking forward to your arrival!

Beijing China International Exhibition Center (Chaoyang Hall) Hall 4

Sihui Jade Exhibition Group (Booth No.: 4201-4314)

四会翡翠展示グループが中国国際（北京）宝石展示会に出展しました！ 四クラブが金メダル２個、銀メダル１個を獲得し、「天宮大会」は花盛りでした！

10月26日、中国宝石・翡翠・宝石産業協会と全国宝石・翡翠検査グループが共催する業界イベント「2023年中国国際宝石博覧会」��中国国際展覧センター（朝陽館）で盛大に開幕した。 四会翡翠展示グループが公開され、市党委員会常務委員、統一戦線工作部部長、政協党グループ副書記の蔡雪麗氏が開会式に出席し、四会を訪問するよう招待された。翡翠の展示エリア。

イベント期間中、蔡雪麗一行は四会翡翠展示グループを応援するために四会翡翠展示場を訪れ、出展者一人一人と会って話をし、四会翡翠製品の展示と販売について詳しく学び、話を聞いた。市場の状況、運営状況、製品に関する出展者の意見に耳を傾け、研究開発やその他の紹介を通じて、四会翡翠展示会グループの加盟店がこの展示会に向けて慎重に準備し、高品質で四会風味の宝石を展示する努力を肯定し、賞賛することを目的としています。四会翡翠展示グループは、複数のグループを組織して「四会翡翠」ブランドをあらゆる面で磨き上げることを奨励しています。

今年は第 4 回セッションが事前に計画されます。

23の強力なブランド企業が注意深く組織されています。

四会翡翠展示グループを結成し、

北京宝飾博覧会ホール4に出展、

装飾品、ペンダント、翡翠のブレスレットの合計、

小さなジュエリーなどの翡翠の逸品が6,000点以上

同時に、高品質な11製品が選出されました。

2023年天宮翡翠彫刻コンクールおよび展示会に参加します。

見事な四会翡翠の見事な配列

四会翡翠展示グループを

2023年中国国際ジュエリーショーで最も輝かしい展示グループの1つ、

国内外の多くの宝石と翡翠の愛好家を魅了しています。

ぜひ立ち寄って味わってみてください。

この展示会では、四会市が真新しい外観で市の多様な翡翠製品を一般に紹介し、「四会翡翠」ブランドの宣伝と宣伝に焦点を当て、「四会翡翠」の知名度と評判を高めることが理解されています。同時に、各出展者は自社のイメージ、文化、強みを実証するだけでなく、市場の発展傾向や消費者の消費概念についてのコミュニケーション、学習、理解を通じて、より多くの発展の機会を見出しました。

展覧会の同期間中、

天宮翡翠彫刻コンクールにも

入賞作品を展示しております。

△四会市委員会常務委員会委員兼統一戦線工作部部長の蔡雪麗氏が受賞作品を視察しました。

で、

フォークラブは金メダル２個、銀メダル１個を獲得しました！

これらの作品は「四会翡翠彫刻」の優雅さを示しており、

そして四会翡翠彫刻人たちの独創的な研究の結果！

金メダル 鄭国柳 - 「弥勒百子の絵」 写真 金メダル アリソン・ジェイド - 「ザ・シャドウ・オブ・タイム」 写真 銀賞 魏烈峰「赤い香りの枝がいっぱいの氷梅」 写真

翡翠文化は4つの社会から受け継がれています。

この展覧会は10月30日まで開催されます。

興味のあるお友達、

皆様のお越しをお待ちしております！

北京中国国際展示センター (朝陽ホール) ホール 4

四会翡翠展示グループ（小間番号：4201-4314）

https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/LKA-5qPCAQYf8Z5erdCkkA

[thissidekhushi]

Divulging the Sweet-smelling Extravagance: Investigating the Secrets of Saffron Cost, Kashmiri Rarities, and Weaved Clothing types

Introduction

The captivating place that is known for Kashmir is eminent for its stunning scenes as well as for its dazzling social legacy and extraordinary items. From the hypnotizing smell of saffron and kahwa to the exquisite weaved kurtis and suits, Kashmir brags a gold mine rich and lively contributions. In this blog, we will dive into the universe of saffron value, the treats of Kahwa and unique honey, the appeal of Kashmiri kaftans, and the immortal appeal of weaved georgette suits and kurtis.

1. Saffron Cost and the Remedy of Kashmir - Kesar

Kashmiri saffron, frequently alluded to as "Kesar," is viewed as one of the world's most perfect and valuable flavors. The zest is gotten from the marks of shame of the saffron blossom and gathered manually, making it a work serious cycle. Kesar energetic blood red shade, unmistakable smell, and one of a kind flavor deserve it the title "Red Gold." Be that as it may, the saffron price can be somewhat high because of its difficult development and restricted yield, making it an image of extravagance and lavishness.

2. The Sweet-smelling Pleasure: Kahwa and Unique Honey

Kahwa is a customary Kashmiri tea injected with an enthralling mix of saffron, cardamom, cinnamon, and once in a while squashed almonds. Known for its warming and reviving characteristics, this green tea is a necessary piece of Kashmiri culture and cordiality. Its one of a kind taste and medical advantages have acquired fame in the district as well as around the world. Going with the superb Kahwa is unique honey obtained from the blooms of the beautiful valley. The immaculateness of this honey is accepted to be a consequence of the variety of blossoms tracked down in Kashmir, adding to its extraordinary taste and restorative properties. Together, these two luxuries offer a brief look into the quintessence of Kashmiri culture and gastronomy.

3. Kashmiri Kaftans: A Mix of Class and Solace

The Kashmiri kaftan is a customary piece of clothing that has gone the distance, with a set of experiences crossing hundreds of years. Eminent for its extravagant surface and complicated weaving, the kaftan mirrors the district's rich creative legacy. Produced using fine textures like silk, fleece, or cotton, and decorated with impeccable plans, these baggy pieces of clothing are exquisite as well as unimaginably agreeable to wear.

4. The Ageless Appeal of Weaved Kurtis and Georgette Suits

Kashmiri weaving is a fine art that features the expertise and imagination of nearby craftsmans. The carefully weaved kurtis, Kashmiri suits and georgette suits are a demonstration of the wonderful craftsmanship and scrupulousness that goes into each piece. These conventional clothing types highlight wonderful examples, energetic varieties, and unpredictable embellishments, settling on them a most loved decision for both easygoing and merry events.

5. Dry Leafy foods Shilajit: Dietary Forces to be reckoned with

Aside from its zest and material fortunes, Kashmir is additionally known for its wealth of excellent dry fruits . Almonds, pecans, apricots, and raisins are among the most famous assortments, prestigious for their rich taste and dietary benefit. You can also buy these dryfruits online . These healthy treats entice the taste buds as well as proposition various medical advantages, making them a magnificent expansion to any eating regimen.

Furthermore, the locale is renowned for its unadulterated pure shilajit, a mineral-rich substance that is accepted to have restorative properties. This sap like substance is obtained from the Himalayan mountains and is said to give an increase in energy, improve mental capability, and advance by and large prosperity.

Conclusion

Kashmir, the crown gem of India, has enchanted the world with its saffron, kahwa, unique original honey, Kashmiri kaftans, and weaved clothing types. Every one of these fortunes conveys a special inheritance and social importance that has been gone down through ages. Whether it's the otherworldly fragrance of saffron, the reviving taste of Kahwa, the style of weaved articles of clothing, or the decency of dry products of the soil, the marvels of Kashmir have something uniquely amazing for everybody. While the saffron cost could mirror its restrictiveness, different joys of Kashmir are a greeting for all to encounter the extravagance of this captivating district.