#florared

[goddessmakima]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C4g-invIgEf/

[cronicasdeunafashionista]

[liivn]

Fender Custom Shop Masterbuilt Retro Paisley Floral Decor Telecaster

[obsessed-bunny]

meet florarence~

Forarence is the fan child of my oc cam and lawrence she has a twin but i have yet to draw him yet <3

[justewil]

it's saturday am i still allowed to post florar

[gr1mmlin]

Character concept - Florar musketeer 🌹⚔️

Current design and previous

I hope to have time to draw something new 🥲

[sohychocochips]

SHY GUY (DIARY)

synopsys: sunghoon was always a shy guy, but this cute girl next class is making him wanna be more brave, he wanted to talk to her and maybe even kiss her, but he can't. so he starts a diary and document her everystep.

ׂ°₊ 𐙚 warning: english is not my first language, pls correct me if i type anything wrong! thank youuu ♡♡♡

ׂ°₊ 𐙚 dinamics: shy guy next class sunghoon x cute f!reader

ׂ°₊ 𐙚 infos: fluff, a little healthy stalking(?), anxiety crises, suicidal thoughts

ׂ°₊ 𐙚 note: i need someone like y/n in my life!

start reading here:

sunghoon started monday well, he was standing next to your class at the morning, so you would say "good morning" in that soft voice just for him. you actually says it to everybody, you're so polite, but that good morning, that one was just for him. "oh, sunghoon! good morningg" he melts as you say, almost forgetting to respond. "good morning, y/n!" he tries to sound atractive and just stands there like the silly boy in love he is. "hey, hoon. what you doing here? I was looking for you!" his golden retriever friend says, they always spend every school day together since kindergarden. jake and sunghoon are just stuck to each other. "wait, that's y/n's class.. all for a good morning... again?" jake has a bored face on. "ike, you don't understand! her voice is so soft and sweet, she has to be mine" sunghoon was serious, but his movements were dramatic as hell. "stop being a weirdo and give some flowers to her, maybe?" jake suggests. "she doesn't like bouquets much" "how do you know that? weirdo"

park doesn't know, but you also love him quite a lot, you knows he's always looking at you at school, your friends say he's a little weird, but you just happen to find him very cute, so you put a little more love in the good mornings when it's for him.

today's classes were so boring, but who said sunghoon was paying attention to it? he was thinking about you, his adorable crush. he gets sad as he remembers he graduates this year, and will never see you again. seeing you everyday is a serious matter for him. "sunghoon" jake tries to wake him up, the last math class is already over. "SUNGHOON YOU DUMB, LET'S GO" he finally wakes up. "im going! and you're the dumb one here" he teases jake a bit. "what score did you get in this class?" sunghoon leaves in silence. "oh, I see" jake follows him.

as soon as sunghoon gets home, he locks his door and pick up his diary that he writes just for you. "dear y/n, day 467. today you gave me one of the sweetest good mornings you can give, you were so cute, that messy hair and adorable smile" he draws sad faces and hearts to the page. "I hope you're not dressing up for other man, you're always so beautiful in school, cute little dresses flawless makeup that suits you so well. today you used a pink roses florar dress, hair tied in a pink bow and pink doll shoes. my lil bunny is just the prettiest. I like to call you lil bunny cause first, you're adorable like a baby bun bun, and second, you use pink blush on the nose just like a baby bun bun, YOU'RE SO CUTE MARRY ME" he sights, remembering he'll never see you again after this year. "I love you so much my darling, maybe I have to be brave for you! I'll try to think of a date for us and just hope you don't dump me. bye! love you always and can't wait for you to be mine!"

he likes to take a look at previews pages too, he forgets what he writes and it's always good to read about you. day 8 says "this diary thing is still a little weird to me, but I do whatever to talk about my lil bunny as jake doesn't wanna hear it! i'm starting to hate weekends now, i don't see you, I hate everyday i don't see you. I start to think you were so pretty yesterday, you were using jean shorts and and a super cute strawberry t-shirt. and of course, your loved red dolly shoes, you were using the one that has a bow in it. SO CUTE" he reads another one, day 16 says "lil bunny i want to thank you so so much! you're helping me so much, even if when anxiety hits i think of you and think you're kissing me and that it's going to be real soon! today you were wearing a orange dress and collorful acessories and of course, your favorite red shoe. i heard you complain to your friends that you put too much blush on and was late, but i wasn't too much! it was cute. i like when you use makeup but i also would like to see you without, so i could make you blush!"

and then, the anxiety came, qhen thinking about a date, sunghoon suffers from social anxiety, he never forgot the middle school bullying and he just go on crowded parts of school if jake is beside him. thinking of you does make him feel better, but going on a date already makes him nervous, plus in a cinema or a restaurant? it's not working for him. he spent the whole night trying to figure out something, but he can only think of his own home. he can't invite you for his house, you'll sure think he's a weirdo!

next morning, sunghoon has a very tired face, you notice that, you gave him a cheerful good morning, but his just sounded... empty. now at break, you look at him at the table next to yours, he looks sad, lost and after looking at you he suddently leaves, letting half sandwich behind. you're worried and follows him. jake started to think you're a weirdo too for stealing the half sandwich, but you don't care, you want your favorite boy to eat his food well.

you follow sunghoon to a far place in school's garden, no one is ever there. he was crying so desesperatedly you heart hurts. "JAKE I SAND NOT TO COME, GO AWAY, LEAVE ME ALONE" he's very rude. "oh, im s- sorry! just gonna leave this here." you leave the sandwich near him "eat well my prince, hope you feel better" you just ended saying that when he grabs your arm "you... y-you can stay" you sit by his side. he hugs you and starts crying again. you pat his head. "do you wanna talk about it?" you try to sound very sweet so he feels confortable. "i love you, i love you so much" he cries "but i can't take you to a date and you'll think im a weirdo if i invite you to my house and if i do nothing i'll graduate this year and never see you again, i need to see you everyday or my life will suck again" he lays his head on your legs and you continue to pat his hair. "i- if, if i don't see you it's better to die" "don't worry, you'll see me a lot! it's okay hoonie, i can visit your house anytime, i know you're not a weirdo" you kiss his forehead. "do you really want to date a loser like me? who can't protect you and cries everyday?" he looks at you with doe eyes. "you're not a loser, hooney, and who said you can't protect me!? you're very strong." you kiss his nose. "but I'm anxious and-" you interrupt him. "sunghoon, I. don't. care. we'll get this together. I love you so much." he stops crying and you wipe the last tears off. he hugs you and gets up. "thank you, darling" he kisses your forehead. "im feeling much better now, i promise i'll get better and take you to proper dates." he smiles at you, you're happy to see that beautiful smile again. "hooney, as long as i'm with you im happy" his smile gets bigger and bigger as he gets his face closer to yours, you close your eyes, mentally preparing for your sudden first kiss. "hey, sunghoon, i know you told not to come but the class is already started, i was worried..." he noticed in what moment he's walking in. "oh... im sorry" sunghoon looks at jake with anger in his eyes. he gets your phone number before anything "lil bunny, don't miss your class, love you." he gives you three kisses on the nose. and then... "HEY JAKE YOU PUNK"

THE END.

note: i'll write a little extra abt them cuddling in hoon's house later! thanks for reading till here ♡♡ ;))

[smileysuh]

can’t wait for bear!johnny im sure it’s gonna be phenomenal u always end up exceeding any and all expectations so 😩✋🏼

aw thanks!!!! tbh, I don't know what comes over me when I write for Johnny, but stuff just flows- I've got one fic to finish before I can write bear!john, but here's the intro so far as a sneak peek ;)

***

As a bear hybrid, Johnny has been in many honey shops in his life. He’s frequented to hole in the wall mama and papa honey selling places. He’s visited big brand stores so big and full of different types of honey that they made his head spin. He’s even given a chance to side of the road, farm fresh honey sellers. 

Even with all of this experience, there’s only one location that he’s truly come to love, and that’s Queen B’s Honey Company. 

Nestled between an ice cream parlour and an old style salon on an old street on the side of town, near the farming district, Queen B’s has a certain charm that’s always scratched Johnny’s honey itch just right. 

With soft cream coloured walls, and touches of old wood that line the walls in shelves and fill the room with various display tables, the store is somewhere between scandi and revitalized farm aesthetic, a style that Johnny adores.

With a wide array of honey, in sticks, jars, canisters and tubs, the honey shop has everything a bear like John could ever need, and that’s not even including all the hand made pottery that sits on the top shelves. Plants are speckled here and there, adding a florar scent to the sweetness in the air that’s inherent to the Queen B establishment. 

There’s art too, all somehow relating to honey, and everywhere you look, there’s a recurring theme of bees and bears. 

It’s a tale as old as time - the bears and the bees -  and one that has always immediately brought the hybrid an indescribable sense of peace.

Even with all of this, however, Johnny’s favourite part about the store has to be the kind workers that calmly bustle around, always quick to lend a hand or ask how his day is going. Specifically, you draw Johnny in like no amount of honey ever could, and he’s pleased to arrive at the store once a week to often find you working.

Johnny might be a big-shot club owner and entrepreneur by night, but by day, especially in the comfort of Queen B’s, Johnny sees himself as more of a calm dude just trying to support a local business. Despite his attraction to you, he’d hate to put himself out there and make you uncomfortable - at your workplace no less - so in the months he’s been frequenting your establishment, your short interactions have only ever pertained to honey, and he can live with that. 

***

I'm so excited to write bear!john you have no idea-it's going to be very different from Hyuck's hybrid fic, much more soft domestic :)

[iamainhoa]

Alfredo Ramos Martínez

Juanita entre las flores, 1930. Oleo sobre cartón 56,7 x 64

Juanita aparece rodeada de un paisaje florar idílico. Los colores vibrantes no son naturalistas y se conjugan armónicamente para enmarcar la figura de juanita que sostiene entre sus manos un manojo de flores rosas. La pintura evoca el sentimiento romántico que fue característico de las obras correspondientes con el primer periodo de vanguardia y alude claramente a los pueblos antiguos.

📍​Museo Soumay, Cuidad de México

[ocasoinefable]

.. quedarme clavada como ciervo que deja su piel en tu boca para florar y volver a ser ciervo

[aschenblumen]

Los meses y los días son viajeros de la eternidad. El año que se va y el que viene también son viajeros. Para aquellos que dejan florar sus vidas a bordo de los barcos o envejecen conduciendo caballos, todos los días son viaje y su casa misma es viaje.

Matsuo Bashō, Sendas de Oku. Traducción de Octavio Paz y Eikichi Hayashiya. La luna y el sol son viajeros de la eternidad, vagabundos como los años que llegan y se van. Para quienes dejan que la vida derive a su antojo en un bote, o llegan a la vejez tirando de un caballo, cada día es un viaje y el viaje mismo es el hogar. — Matsuo Bashō, Caminos secundarios a pueblos lejanos. Diario de viaje (1689). Traducción del inglés de Eric Schierloh.

[talomacblog]

¿Quiere conocer un anticipo de su defunción ?

Basta con abrir una ventana que de a una siesta de enero en Corrientes o Asunción, da igual la madre que la hija. Porque esta es una historia de madres y de hijas, ya lo verá.

Asoladas.

Humeantes.

Polvorientas.

Áridas en la llanura húmeda, las calles se agitan en la quietud. Reverberan fulgores ondulados. Jadean como tísicas el demonio de la siesta.

Después está la gente.

Cuerpos humanos sin sombras cruzan callados por las calles. Abrasados por las calderas canallas. Las Diablas (obesas, aceitosas) y sus hieródulos con espadas flamígeras están expulsando pecadores del Paraíso que está negado a los renegados.

¿Adónde los conducen?

A la siesta correntina.

El cielo se sancocha. El tibio celeste está celado. Ya no llegan hasta él las jaculatorias que los fieles, al santiguarse, imprecan. Los penitentes que apenan las calles brillan del barniz del sudor. Mujeres afantasmadas atraviesan el resplandor sin decir una palabra.

Sin decir una palabra. ¿Adónde, hombres y mujeres cargados de ardores caminan los calores?

¿Adónde van?

A la siesta.

A los recovecos tramposos del asentamiento de la Villa de San Juan de Vera de las Siete Corrientes: sus ejidos fueron catastrados (amparados y rubricados por sus Católicas Majestades) con los teodolitos del Adelantado Don Juan Torres de Vera y Aragón. Titulado. Encomendado. No cenado como su colega Juan Solís, éste otro Don Juan bebió y fornicó hasta que su árbol genealógico se cansó de frondar y florar y frutar la parentela mestiza que hoy funda feudos ensoñados en nombre de la corona sajona.

Pero el misterio (flota de grumetes y doñas que parte desde Asunción para españolizar las siete guaraníticas puntas) sigue su liturgia en la catedral del aire escaldado de enero.

Hay palmeras y chivatos que florean el altar de la siesta con sus verdes ondulantes.  Cuando el aire se entibia, los lapachares bajan del cielo y las jacaranderías con luto eclesiástico gotean las veredas de la Costanera. Fieles pero infieles, los caminantes hacen profesión de procesiones tal como está indicado en el culto de la siesta, con sus maitines, sus horas tertias y nonas para responsos y festines.

Desinteresados.

Remotos.

Austeros.

Insensatos: los peregrinos que caminan por las calles no saben que son el séquito de la celebrante, que es la Muerte.

[moving-on-without-u]

Primero de enero del año 2023

Es curioso iniciar el año con tantas cosas buenas, inimaginable de alguna forma, pero se siente bonito, orgánico, ameno...

Abrazar a mamá, llorar desmedidamente por los errores que no quieres seguir cometiendo pero aún así cometerlos de nuevo, sentirse cercano a la familia, compartir un año nuevo con personas con las que nunca lo imaginaste, pero sentir que todo fluye, que la familia se pone de primera cuando usualmente es lo último en que pensamos en el día a día.

Bailar, reír, tomar... Dormir y luego despertar entre risas, charlas, historias que se comparten solo en estos escenarios dispuestos para escucharse y conocerse entre todos...

Son fructíferas las enseñanzas, tener la fortuna de compartir y aprender de una persona que hasta este día era desconocida, que es vista desde un estigma y es poco el interés por descubrir y conocer a profundidad quien es ese otro, que te ayuda a construir, a ver la vida desde otras perspectivas, con otros ojos, experiencias y sentires.

Puede parecer una bobada pero aprender a florar boca arriba, a tomar una foto, a ser parte de melodías, canciones y acordes, charlas profundas e interesantes hasta el anochecer y aquellos pensamientos afines que son preciosos es algo que me lleno el corazón, y estoy profundamente agradecida y conmovida por tener la oportunidad de vivirlos, de sentir tanta inspiración y motivación en mi vida, impulsada por una gran admiración que le tengo a él.

Fui muy feliz, realmente feliz, y creo con mucho fervor que iniciar el año de una manera tan excepcional solo me premedita cosas buenas en todo lo que resta del año. ❤️

Gracias, 2023 por darme tanto en tan poco 🥰

[alwayssomenoneintheworld]

E é com o entardecer da vida que vemos florar o outono de paixões que juraram ser amores reais, onde todo e qualquer tolo estava pronto para declarar-se em juras que só poderiam ser recitadas pelo mais poderoso soneto

Bronizia Boaz

[kw-espeak]

La dernière chasse au poulet

(A Última Caça as Galinhas) 04

Na outra manhã, eu estava a caminho da floreta da ansiedade novamente, desta vez levei algumas frutas e suco fresco, imaginei que flores seriam um presente hostil para quem iria encontrar, andei o mesmo caminho, mas dessa vez demorei mais que o normal. Quando cheguei, o campo parecia ter sido destruído por um tufão, mal podia imaginar toda a beleza que me recebera anteriormente, mas mesmo assim ela estava lá, de pé, olhando exatamente para meu caminho. Receoso, segui e sua direção, com uma cesta na mão e muitas desculpas a se dizer.

Logo quando pisei em seu território, o tempo antes chuvoso, abril, um sol de machucar os olhos apareceu, e eu nunca estive tão feliz por uma mudança no clima. Como quem que não queria nada, estiquei um pano ao chão e arrumei os componentes da cesta; olhei para ela, por cima de meus óculos, como se fosse um cachorro com fome a espera de um pedaço de qualquer alimento oferecido; ela veio, se sentou, observou e comeu uma uva, sem falar uma palavra. "Me desculpe por ontem, eu não imaginei que minha pergunta te deixaria aborrecida. Minhas sinceras desculpas." Como se nada tivesse acontecido, ela me fitou, as margaridas voltaram a florar em um passe de magica, como se ontem tivesse sido anulado do tempo em terra; "E como poderia saber? Eu é que lhe devo desculpas pela minha irritabilidade , sei que não me cometeria mal algum." E então eu sorri para ela pela primeira e última vez. A manhã foi, a tarde veio, e nós ainda estávamos ali, a papear como um casal de adolescentes sem o que mais fazer da vida, mas me atrevi a perguntar novamente o que era a guardiã de margaridas, para viver isolada. "Não posso lhe responder. Por que se importa tanto com essas duvidas rasas, não lhe pareço digna de seu tempo?" e começou a chorar, como se seus lindos olhos fossem uma cachoeira, tentei conforta-la mas essa se pois a correr para dentro da floresta, para fora de minha vista; Não, não fui atrás, julguei-me o próprio diabo, que só sabia machucar a quem tanto admiro e amo, e mais infeliz impossível, voltei para a casa.

Depressivo era eu, em meio a minhas cartas mais sentimentais, as quais embalei e pedi que as fossem entregues, todas essas tinham um pouco de minha profunda tristeza e desgosto sobre eu mesmo, mas todas catalogavam o amor que lhe cultivará. Eu já não precisava mais de vida, se tu não fosse presente, se tu não fosse feliz ao meu visitar. Preferi não procurar o porquê de ter te magoado tanto, como o maior do pecadores, crucifiquei a mim mesmo , deixando-te uma ultima carta de uma raposa desesperada, com manchas de meu líquido carmim, desejei que está tbm fosse entregue, e com uma desculpa que amaciaria seu coração, deixei de procurar por seu ser em terra e me juntei a suas margaridas e profundo amor carregado por seu ser, se não seu, nem a vida pode me ter.

Lúcifer- Rederico Ferro (detalhe)

[voevy]

Conceição da Ibitipoca

Serra misteriosa de entrar,

A cada passo uma descoberta,

E de si próprio não vai duvidar!

Erguer-se como os 3 pássaros,

Na Igreja Nossa Senhora da Conceição,

Eu tenho um olhar diferente em ouvir aquele som florar.

Sendo individual com o silêncio que passa pela Serra da Pedra que estoura.

Intenso a Deusa que nunca vi,

Mas senti e vários lendários dizendo; "Ela há de aparecer, como uma esfera de fogo calmamente como nosso ser..."

Senti-me protegida dias e noites, observando a estrada que era a rua.

E os habitantes nativos como o Picachu, Um caramelo sorridente.

E se adotava em ser amor a quem chegava.

E a Serra como uma rosa e seu espinho,

Um mar de montanhas a cada esquina.

A chuva e o Sol vibrando sua luz na Vila,

Mãe terra se expressando,

Mãe natureza sussurrando,

E o ser usufruindo desse momento.

- Ravi Vieira