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loveissupernatural · 2 years

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**read chapter 1 here** - **read chapter 2 here** - **read chapter 3 here** - **read chapter 4 here**

Morpheus/Dream x fem!reader

In Your Dreams

Chapter 5

“Life is a sleep and love is its dream; and you have lived if you have loved.”

-Alfred de Musset

The following day felt longer than you would have liked. You were anxious for the sun to set, and with it, the answers that would quench the fire of burning curiosity in your mind. Why was the heart of The Dreaming rotting away? Why were you able to escape the borders of your dream and travel there, and why was Lucienne so obviously disturbed by it? Where was Dream? But, most importantly, why did you feel the need to be there in the first place? Why couldn’t you come to terms with this entire experience for the incredible magical adventure that it was and just let it go?

Even though you were filled with more questions than ever before, you could feel in the deepest recesses of your soul that the solutions to all of them lay in The Dreaming.

Your enthusiasm to return to the palace caused you to have trouble falling asleep for the first hour that night. The castle was your new Burgess house – mysteries hid there that tickled at your insides, that whispered to you in the darkness of the night to uncover them.

Finally, after tossing and turning, your eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way. Shifting shapes whirled behind your eyelids, flitting from corner to corner, until they gently settled into the outline of a horizon. A warm sun began to rise and filtered light onto the dark line, illuminating the scene for you. You instantly recognized the scent of poppies on the breeze.

That fragrant wind whipped through your hair lovingly, like the soft fingers of a curious child, swirling around your form. You spun with it, arms outstretched, grinning from ear to ear. How you wished with everything within your heart that this place was real, that this is where you could spend the waking hours of your life.

You opened your shining eyes to see the parting gate of horn and ivory before you. You hadn’t even needed to start the journey within the confines of your own dream this time – you were already here. Your path of glinting black and gold marble was still below your feet, humming with welcoming warmth.

You couldn’t contain your happiness when the dividing gates revealed a view to you that had shifted from the night before. The stretches of murky water were trickling into a singular crystal river, sparkling blue and immense. Where unforgiving rock and dark sand had suffocated the landscape, beautiful blades of grass and stretches of green ferns were beginning to emerge. You recognized your favorite flower, blooming white poppies, dancing in the breeze on the riverside. An enormous bridge was sliding into place over the river, cradled by gargantuan stone hands that surfaced from the crystal water.

Creatures were returning, beautiful and terrifying alike, flying through the milky blue sky and snaking through the growing grass around your feet. The air was no longer choked with an eerie silence; insects buzzed, water rushed, citizens of The Dreaming were laughing.

Life.

You followed the massive bridge of stone to the center, where the once-crumbling palace was being rebuilt in the gleam of glorious sunlight. Fallen walls and castle turrets were reassembling themselves brick by brick with meticulous accuracy, as if someone had hit rewind. Rusting spires were shedding their coat of orange muck and shining gold. Magnificent archways were mending their own cracks and rising tall, transforming from ashy grey to glimmering white.

The heart of The Dreaming was returning to its former glory. Pure joy blossomed in your chest like the rosebuds of a vine that was bending around the pillars of the bridge.

You walked into the castle entryway, still grinning like a fool, as you looked up and watched every shard of broken glass and every crushed stone float into the air and return to their homes. A beautiful stained-glass window was mending directly above your head. The colorful fragments gradually slid together to form the image of a Pegasus, and as the last piece fell into place, it sprang to life, neighing triumphantly and beating its wings.

“Not too shabby, huh?” came a proud voice from behind you.

You spun to see a tall scarecrow-like figure with the head of a pumpkin approaching you. His face was the cut of a jack-o-lantern, crooked mouth pulling up at the corner in a tilted smile. He stopped by your side and put his branch-like hands on his thin hips, gazing up appreciatively at the work of glass art. You tried not to stare too rudely at him.

You turned your head back toward the magnificent window, now casting rays of colored sunlight onto you and your Halloween-like companion.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” you replied truthfully.

He grunted in agreement, then looked down at you. His triangular eyes narrowed.

“Hey, ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts before,” he said. “You new?”

Your lips upturned at his gutteral New York accent. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Lotsa new folks all around this joint today,” he said, shaking his large head in amusement. “Guess that’s what happens when ya hammer a few nails and splash on a fresh coat a’ paint—everyone comes back to tha neighborhood.”

“It does look pretty inviting,” you agreed, turning to face him. You stuck out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

The pumpkin-headed man stuck out his wooden hand and shook yours firmly. “I’m Mervyn, but everybody calls me Merv.”

“Hi, Merv.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms. “Well, considerin’ you bein’ new and all, why don’t I give ya a bit of a tour? It wouldn’t be my first one today.”

“I would love that,” you beamed, resisting the urge to clasp your hands together like a schoolgirl. Merv nodded and turned, motioning with his stick-like hand.

“Well, then, c'mon.”

He walked like a puppet would without strings, you thought, as you followed behind him. You struggled to keep up with his long strides. Mervyn led you through a hallway that had one wall built while the opposite was still floating together. One piece of stone almost hit him in the head on its way back to its appointed position, and he cursed at it.

Once through the hallway, you turned into a winding staircase that glinted with intricate gold. As you followed Merv’s spindly legs up the flight, you appreciated the view to your left of an assembling tower. After a few more steps, you reached the top.

“First things first, here’s our pride and joy,” Mervyn announced grandiosely, spreading out his arms for dramatic emphasis. Your jaw dropped. “This is the library.”

The room was warm wood, cozy sunlight, and beckoning shelves that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Books were everywhere, of every size, color, and age. You ran your finger along a nearby shelf, tickling their spines. Some looked thousands of years old, others as if they’d come off the press minutes before.

“How many books are in here?” you asked in wonder, turning in a full circle to better take in the view.

“A helluva lot,” Mervyn answered slyly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not the one you should ask. Lucienne’s the librarian in charge.”

At the sound of her name, the woman that you had met the night before emerged from behind a nearby cascade of bookshelves. Her eyes smiled at Mervyn, but then they settled onto you.

Lucienne’s face paled.

“You’ve returned,” she breathed, striding toward the two of you with a haste in her step, “and so soon.”

“Oh, you’ve met before?” Mervyn asked, eyes shifting between the librarian and yourself.

“We have,” you told him, trying to make sure your grin didn’t turn into a grimace.

“Just last night, in fact,” Lucienne added. Her perceptive gaze wandered over your nervous form.

“Last night?” Merv repeated incredulously. He motioned over his shoulder. “But the boss hadn’t even started rebuilding yet! How’d she—?”

“A question we all would like to know,” Lucienne answered, fixing you with a penetrating stare over the top of her round glasses. She clasped her hands behind her back expectantly.

“Hey, I’d like to know too,” you said defensively. You crossed your arms, but then dropped them to your sides, not wanting to come off as defiant. “I’ve already told you everything that I know.”

“Lucienne, who is this?” Mervyn asked curiously, pointing a thumb at you.

The librarian sighed heavily but her eyes softened. Her tone was gentle, appreciative. “This, Mervyn, is the young lady that released Lord Morpheus from his prison.”

“No kiddin’?! That was you?!” he questioned unabashedly, shock evident in his wide eye sockets.

You shrugged, not a fan of the intense attention. “Well, yeah… but it’s really not that big of a deal…”

“Not that big of a deal?” Mervyn repeated, voice dripping in astonishment. “Are you kiddin’ me? This place would still be fallin’ apart if it wasn’t for you!”

“That’s why everything looked the way that it did the last time I came?” you asked Lucienne. “Because Dream wasn’t here?”

She nodded somberly. “He was captured for nearly a century and was unable to return. Everything was dissipating, disappearing… it cannot exist without him. He is The Dreaming.”

“But it’s been over a week since I helped him escape,” you said, confused. “Where has he been all of that time?”

“Lord Morpheus was traveling the realms on a quest to reobtain his tools.”

Something hopeful fluttered in your chest. Those nights where you’d been calling out to him and he hadn’t shown himself… it wasn’t because he was ignoring you, it was because he wasn’t even there in the first place.

“Look, uh… I hate to interrupt this conversation,” Merv cut in, scratching the back of his pumpkin head uncomfortably, “but… shouldn’t we tell the boss that she’s here?”

Joy sparked in your chest at his words.

Lucienne hesitated. “There’s still so many questions that remain unanswered. We don’t know how or why she is able to leave her dreams, let alone create a path from their border and through the waters to the palace.”

Mervyn didn’t have eyebrows, but if he did, you were sure he would be raising them in surprise.

“I didn’t have to use the path this time,” you told her, biting your lip. “I just kind of started at the gate.”

“You materialized here, in the heart of The Dreaming?” she clarified, voice filled with bewilderment and cut with that undertone of concern again.

“That ain't normal,” Mervyn shook his head.

“It appears that each time you fall asleep, you are somehow able bypass steps that you’ve previously taken,” she said thoughtfully, almost to herself. “You’re no longer appearing within the boundaries of your own dreams.”

An excited smile pulled at your lips. “Cool.”

“No, no, not ‘cool’,” Lucienne admonished, turning from you and Mervyn to start rifling through a stack of books resting on a nearby table. “This behavior is quite abnormal, even for a lucid dreamer such as yourself.”

“Lucid dreamer, ‘ay?” Merv inquired, crossing his reedy arms over his chest and leaning back against the shelf behind him. “Not too many a’ you guys left no more.”

“Really?”

“They’ve become exceedingly rare,” Lucienne confirmed, finally picking out a book from the pile. “Consistently lucid dreamers existed more commonly thousands of years ago. Now, well…” her eyes roamed over your confused face “…you’re the first I’ve seen in, at least, a millennium.”

“You always been able to do that?” Mervyn asked you. “Change stuff around?”

“Since I can remember,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair at the ornate table in front of you and sitting. “I’d sleep the day away just to keep dreaming.”

“But roaming through the dreamscape, you said last night that you had only just started?” the librarian asked, peering over the edge of the thick book in her hands. She joined you at the table.

Something caught your eye. The book that Lucienne had plucked from the bunch was bound in black with two golden words emblazoned on the cover: your first and last name.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s that?” you questioned enthusiastically, scooting your chair closer to her. “My name’s on there!”

A proud smile creeped onto the head librarian’s face. “This library contains every story ever written and unwritten, finished or unfinished, everything that has been and will never be.” She tapped the hard cover of your book with a manicured nail. “And this is yours.”

“Wow,” you sighed, resting your chin on your palm. Lucienne’s smile grew at your awestruck expression. “So, what all is in there about me?”

“Everything,” she answered simply.

You gulped. “Like, everything everything?”

She laughed. It was a harmonious sound.

“Relax, even your most embarrassing of moments pale in comparison to many of the things I read every day,” she assured you, eyes twinkling with amusement. She became serious again. “I thought it advantageous to find your book after your unexpected visit last night. I had to be sure that you weren’t a threat to The Dreaming.”

Your smile fell. “I’m – I’m not. I don’t want to be a threat to anybody.”

Lucienne sighed, expression trickling with pity.

“I know those aren’t your intentions. But the fact remains that your recent abilities are those that no mortal should possess.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Merv said, standing from his perch against the bookcase to lean against your table instead. He grinned crookedly at you. “We’ll get this figured out. If anyone can sniff out what’s goin’ on here, it’s Lucienne.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. The thought of being some kind of danger to this beautiful place rattled you. All you had wanted was to find Morpheus, to make sure everything turned out okay after you released him. After all, being imprisoned against your will for a hundred years had to be traumatic for anyone, right? Even the King of Dreams?

You had more selfish reasons, too, but those would stay private.

Suddenly, a voice called out.

It echoed into the large room, gentle but authoritative, soft but commanding respect. With a wave of warmth washing over your skin, you knew that you would recognize that beautiful sound anywhere.

“Lucienne,” his voice called, “I believe it is time we review the findings from the census.”

All three of you froze in place.

The King of Dreams emerged from the nearest aisle, graceful stride filled with purpose. He donned all black, a sweeping floor length coat flowing behind him as he walked, regal. His alabaster skin almost seemed to glow against his dark attire. His hair was as black as his clothing, still so gloriously messy and wild.

He was in his element, thriving and flourishing in a way that radiated from his very being. This was his domain.

Morpheus’s icy blue eyes moved from Lucienne to Mervyn. Then, they locked onto you.

Your breath hitched as you stood, chair screeching back noisily. That feeling, that delicious humming in your bones, it was different here, more alive. It was starlight sparking in your spine. He stood at least ten feet away, impossibly still, but you could feel his presence as strongly as you would if he were inches from you. Time stood still.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his fathomless eyes at the sight of you, none of which you could place, but whatever they were made the air in the library thick. Your eyes drank in his face and his roamed yours, penetrating but swirling with something soft.

Mervyn cleared his throat uncomfortably. It just then occurred to you that you had no idea how long the two of you had been standing like that, staring at each other.

The sound seemed to bring Dream back to himself.

“Lucienne. Mervyn. Leave us,” he commanded quietly, but he didn’t look at them. His intense gaze never once broke from yours.

Their replies came quickly and in hushed tones, almost as if embarrassed.

“Of course, sir.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

They scurried away with heads down. As they reached the exit to the library, you could hear Mervyn mutter, “Well, talk about some tension...”

Morpheus blinked at the comment, but you didn’t miss the almost-imperceptible smirk that tugged at one corner of his lips. He was still staring at you.

With a smile that revealed every whisper of your heart, you broke the silence.

“Hi.”

Dream took a slow step toward you, measured. Then another. The curtain of dark lashes framing his endless eyes fluttered as he took you in, gaze roaming to your feet and back up again.

“Hello.” His voice was velvet.

You swallowed, begging the blush that you could feel creeping up your neck to go away. Couldn’t you have at least one interaction with him without your body betraying you? You felt like a fucking teenager.

“You, um, never answered my question,” you said, taking a step toward him as well. One of his dark brows rose. “You put me to sleep first. Rude, by the way.”

His smirk wasn’t nearly as well-hidden now.

“My deepest apologies. And what question would that be?”

You took another step closer, still not breaking eye contact. You clasped the back of a chair with one hand to ground yourself.

“You’re… you are alright, then?” you asked quietly. For the smallest of moments, his eyes betrayed everything. He was touched by your concern.

“You have journeyed through The Dreaming, to the heart of my realm, simply to ask after my well-being?”

His voice held an undercurrent of emotion, but he attempted to hide it with the slightest lilt of tease.

A playful glint sparkled in your eye. “Well, I did play spy for over a month just to get into that basement. What’s a desert and an ocean or two?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes was shuttered by the weight of your words. It seemed that once Morpheus got past the initial surprise of seeing you there, the same realization dawned on him that concerned Lucienne.

“You traveled through the outer lands of The Dreaming,” he stated, brows furrowed in unease. “You left the confines of your dream and found yourself here?”

The general trepidation from everyone surrounding your ability to leave your dream world disturbed you. You saw it as a gift, but it seemed to be one that you were not meant to have. You let out a sigh.

“I created a path,” you told him. “It took me through the desert and through an ocean… and then I ended up on that dock out there.” You tilted your chin toward the windows. “The path ended at the gates, and when I touched them, they opened. Then I came here.”

Morpheus was close now, taking in every word you that escaped your lips with rapt attention. His powerful stare was not angry, but perplexed. His eyes were swimming with anxious confusion.

“How is this possible?” he whispered to himself. His pale hand rose, ever so slowly, to ghost the line of your jaw. The touch was barely there, so very brief, but it left tingling chills in its wake. He examined your every feature, searching for the answer. “For you are not a vortex.”

For a moment, you’d forgotten how to speak, mind still reeling from the fact that he had just touched you, and that it felt so indescribable. His fingers had barely brushed an inch of skin, but that starlight sparkling in your spine had overtaken every nerve ending.

“Vortex?” you asked when you found your voice. Your eyebrows came together. “What’s a vortex?”

To your dismay, Dream stepped away from you. He turned toward the table where you were previously sitting with Lucienne and Mervyn, delicate fingers flipping through the many volumes that were stacked over its surface. His hands settled on a red hardback, lifting it so that you could read the gold lettering on the cover.

“Rose Walker,” he replied, face impassive.

At your obvious confusion, Dream stepped back and motioned with a graceful hand toward the archway where Lucienne and Mervyn had disappeared moments before.

“Where are we going?” you asked, walking in the direction he indicated.

Morpheus was tall at your side, right hand ghosting the small of your back, featherlight. The stars in your backbone twinkled at the touch.

His voice was euphonious when he bent to your ear.

“Follow me.”

**read chapter 6 here

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coffeewritesfiction · 9 months

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Introduction: The King in Yellow

(A variation of the creation of Robert W. Chambers, from my WIP Through the Yellow Window)

Where to start with this guy

There's been as many interpretations of the King in Yellow (aka Hastur) as there have been people using the character. Not a creation of Lovecraft, he was inserted into the Cthulhu Mythos after the man's death... I'm not sure when but I think DnD is to blame.

I'm not a historian though.

People are probably most familiar with this guy thanks to the podcast Malevolent. My take on him is not like that.

Let me copy straight from my notes:

The King in Yellow just… is. He is a presence more than a body. Beneath his flowing, tattered robes, there is whatever he wills there to be. A human hand. Tentacles. Spider legs. His 'body' is a moving tear in reality. And he reaches through it. There is the feeling of enormity and throat drying horror in his presence (at least to [protagonist]). He breeds to spread his influence - little cracks in reality form in the presence of King spawn, growing deeper and deeper until he can seep through. He casts no shadow. They say he has a thousand Courts in a thousand worlds, and as many names in as many languages, all refractions of his might and malice. He seems to care not for the antics of the hive that surrounds him, and yet, he is always present in some form when they engage in the act of creation. A rippling curtain is his presence. A distorted whisper in the wind is his presence. A single insectoid hand emerging from the darkness is his presence. He does not need words or sound to speak.

He is a looming white masked figure, of yellow robes, of many tattered, empty sleeves swaying as he floats through existence. His spawn are often blonde regardless of human ancestry, and gifted in acting and public speech, and manipulation. His cult calls themselves the Royal Court, and he is adored by all those within it. The Duke of Carcosa is an especially favored cultist, while the Pawn is being punished for disloyalty.

He knows more about the protagonist of Yellow Window than anyone realizes, and even Azathoth could not dream of the plans he's crafting for his own amusement.

Psst - Follow for more posts like this! Through the Yellow Window will be published for free when it's released! Thank you again to @redacted-metallum and @actualblanketgremlin for letting me use their characters

@slenders1ckn3ss @jacquesfindswritingandadvice @redacted-metallum @actualblanketgremlin @higgs-space @phantomnations @mushabumi @assistantdirector--janson @aldhidbah @sabtael @yourheartonfireblog @jade-island-lives @arsenwormwood @cecuesta @darkhorse-javert @comicgoblinart @lizadomuch @minutiaewriter @angelsofprey @izzyspussy @passthebeat-blog-blog @dragonedged-if @andromedaexists @cyanide-latte @lillis-writes @suckerpunchfemale @late-to-the-fandom @eldritch-flower @cljordan-imperium @royal1asset-if @pineywitch @fragrant-stars @starry-voids @wubsbian @divine-anarchy @elbritch-kit @tousled-birdmad-girl @ajdoesthings @pen-for-sword @noightwitchers

#ms: character study sunday #writeblr #writeblr community #cthulhu mythos #lovecraft mythos #wip: yellow window #wip: psi #the king in yellow #king in yellow

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nikkilover-miraclenikki · 2 years

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【 Miracle Nikki CN 】 Event & Free

Suit Display ::

A wonderful adventure is like a fragrant fragrance, and different fragrances form an unforgettable memory.

The goblin, attracted by the fragrant aroma, accidentally came to a strange castle, and the lonely elves also met their first friend...

On August 15th, the fragrance lingers, and the adventure begins

P.1 :: Beautifully Fantasy Butterfly (绮绘幻蝶)

P.2 :: Fragrant Flower Brigade (旖香花旅)

Floating light is woven into a dream, whispering the songs of the years.

This sea area is vast and far away, and she moves forward in the waves.

P.3 :: Song of the Sea (蔚海歌谣)

Collection ::

P.1-2 :: Pigeon Kingdom

P.3 :: Lilith Kingdom

Date ::

P.1-2:: 15—21/08/2022

P.3 :: 12—21/08/2022

Type ::

P.1-2 :: Event

P.3 :: Free Sign In

#Lilith Kingdom #Pigeon Kingdom #Event #Free #奇迹暖暖 #Miracle Nikki #Love Nikki #Nikki Up2U 3 #Nikki 3 #Dress-Up Game #Orangecatty #Nikki Diary Thailand #360Mobi Nikki #아이러브니키 #ミラクルニキ公式 #360Mobi Nikki นิกกี้มหัศจรรย์#Love Nikki-Dress Up Queen #Love Nikki-Dress Up Fantasy #Ngôi Sao Thời Trang 360Mobi

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talonslockau · 6 months

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Fire and Ice - Chapter 1

Prologue || Index || Chapter 2

Rusty darted after the mouse as it bolted for the cover of a gnarled tree root, paws slamming against the empty space as the mouse changed course and bounced over the roots. If it weren’t for the stakes, he would be certain the mouse was toying with him. Every time he thought he had it, every time he had it figured out, it switched directions on him. And yet, as he pushed off the tree trunk to leap after it, he was always only a paw-step behind.

He followed the mouse through a gap in the bracken, cutting it off as it dove for a hole in the ground. He pursued it across a dusty clearing lined with little yellow flowers, their fragile stems leaving nowhere for the mouse to hide. It raced over a fallen log, not yet hollowed by the elements, and zipped straight towards a pair of tall mottled trees, leaving itself exposed. Putting all his effort into a final pounce, he bunched his hindquarters and jumped-

Following it straight into a dark pool.

He plunged in, unable to backpedal in the air. For a moment, he was floating, his ruddy fur billowing out around him as he sank into the inky depths. And then the shock of the cold jolted his body, and he gasped in surprise, water filling his lungs. He coughed and lashed out, trying to find the surface, but he couldn’t find air. He was drowning-

He fell off the patio chair he’d been sleeping on, landing with a heavy thud on the deck. He sucked in air, hyperventilating as he came to his senses. He was in his housefolks’ garden, a small fenced-in area filled with all sorts of sickly-sweet fragrant flowers. He was soaked, along with everything else around him, and it took him a moment to realise belatedly that he’d slept through an evening rainstorm. He shook himself off, puffing out his fur, and made his way up onto the fence that enclosed his little territory.

On each side of the fence laid other gardens, laid out in the same tidy fashion as his own. Some sported grass sheared to be shorter than a whisker, while others featured many different kinds of flowers and herbs. There was even one covered in sand, which made for an excellent napping spot when the sun was out and its housefolk were away. On a cold night like this one, however, it was best to be avoided entirely.

But beyond these little boxes was what really caught his attention; a forest, with trees that loomed taller than any of the houses that the housefolk lived in and bushes that clustered closer together than any of the housefolk would ever allow. Even in the daytime, the leaves shaded the inner parts of the forest from prying eyes, but in the darkness it was nigh impossible to see inside.

Ever since he had come to live with his housefolk, the forest had mesmerized Rusty. Even now, curling his lips to let the earthy smells brought out by the rain wash over him, he felt his heart quicken in a way that he had never experienced inside the garden or their tiny home. The closest thrills he ever got were when a stray fly or spider got inside, or in the wild pursuits of his dreams.

It seemed no matter how hard he tried to ignore the forest, the forest only called to him more.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to push the boundaries just this once? By now, his housefolk had long since gone to sleep, having decided not to disturb him from his slumber, or perhaps not wanting to brave the showers he had so blissfully slept through. Even the forest creatures were likely asleep, as only silence filled his ears as he studied the foreboding darkness. With only an impulse he landed on the grass beyond his territory, his collar tinkling in the exertion.

Cautiously, he took one step, then another, creeping steadily towards the undergrowth-

“Hey, Rusty! Where are you going?”

He startled and turned to see a familiar black-and-white tom sitting on the fence line a couple of doors down, amber eyes wide as he looked down at Rusty. “Hello there, Smudge.”

“You’re not planning on going into the woods, are you? It’s dangerous in there!” Smudge’s fur bristled at the thought. “Henry went into the woods once, you know.” The other housecat flicked his tail down towards where Henry’s garden was.

“Henry? That fat old tabby’s never left his garden!” Rusty scoffed at the mention of the rather pudgy tom. “All he’s done is eat and sleep since I’ve met him.”

“No, really! He caught a robin there and brought it back!” Smudge nodded his head as he remembered. “He even let me have a bite, but it was all feathers.”

“Well, it must’ve been before I got here. Now he complains that the birds disturb him when he’s napping! Like you could blame them for mistaking him for garden statuary.” Rusty snorted at the thought, remembering how bitterly the tom had complained when he had been mistaken for a rock by a flock of unobservant sparrows.

Smudge shrugged, largely ignoring Rusty’s taunting of their elder. “Anyways, Henry told me about all sorts of dangers that live in the woods! There are whole packs of coyotes out there, and hawks big enough to catch a full grown cat!” Noticing Rusty rolling his eyes, he added in a hushed whisper, “He even told me that there’s wild cats out there that eat live rabbits for breakfast, and sharpen their claws on old bones! They’re bad news, given what they have to deal with.”

Rusty smiled and shook his head at his friend’s worrying. “Don’t worry, Smudge. I’ll only be in there long enough to catch my own robin, then I’ll come straight back. Maybe I’ll even share it with you so you can get a real taste, how’s that?” He gave the other tom a friendly wink.

Smudge purred, loud enough for the forest-bound tom to hear. “Well, I can’t say I’d mind that! Just as long as you come back in one piece.” He turned tail, shooting one last glance over his shoulder at Rusty. “Please come back?”

“Of course I will. Wouldn’t want you to spend the moon worrying!” He called lightly, watching as the other hopped down with an audible huff. The other housecat persuaded, Rusty turned his attention back to the forest, trying to persuade his own worries. He hoped that had all merely been some of Henry’s tall tales, and that there wasn’t really anything out there.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Turning his attention, he saw a mouse scuttling across leafy debris on the forest floor ahead of him. Instinctively, he dropped into a crouch, watching as it rustled around in search of something. When it finally sat up, he could see it clutching the long, winged construct of a maple seed.

Curling his lip as he kept his ears pricked forward, he savored the mouse’s scent, hearing its tiny, rapid heartbeat from only a few paces away. One paw-step- then another- his heartbeat began beating in rhythm with the mouse’s in anticipation. This was even better than a dream! Instead of chasing such a troublesome critter, here he was, creeping up on an unsuspecting-

From somewhere nearby, a bush rustled, and as he turned his head to see what it was the bell on his collar jingled treacherously. Immediately, the mouse bolted for cover, leaving its prize in search of safety. Cursing, he turned to see what had disrupted him to unleash his frustrations. It was only then that he noticed a fast-approaching gray blur and realized that he was suddenly in much, much more danger than he had anticipated.

He didn’t get time to react as the creature slammed into him, throwing Rusty sideways into a thorny bush. Thrashing around, he attempted to land a claw on his attacker, but with each movement he made the mystery assailant only seemed to tighten its hold on him. He felt the familiar vise-grip of teeth in his neck and panicked. Was this what it was like to be a mouse? Was he going to die here?

A thought sprung to his mind, and as soon as it did he flipped onto his back. The belly was the softest part of a cat, and his instincts screamed at him that showing his belly was the last thing he should be doing, but with the attacker clinging so tightly to his back it wouldn’t be able to free itself in time. The ploy worked, and he felt the creature flatten under his weight, letting out a muffled moan as the breath was knocked out of it.

Flailing to his feet, Rusty managed to break away, sprinting back the way he had come. It was only a heartbeat before the other was tearing after him - and catching up. Escaping was not an option; he could only hope to beat it in a head-on fight.

Skidding to a stop, he turned and faced his pursuer, embedding himself as firmly as he could in the moments before the other reached him, and taking in the assailant’s form.

He felt a shock of surprise to see it was another tom-cat, one of shaggy gray fur of a similar length to his, but with a much broader face than his or Smudge’s. That was all he got to see before the other crashed into him at full tilt, having clearly not expected Rusty’s about-face. Thankfully, this time it didn’t knock him over, as he had been expecting it, and it was instead the other tom that fell back dazed.

He puffed his fur once more, now cursing the water that soaked him even more - it made it quite difficult to seem larger than he was. But to his surprise, when the other cat did finally manage to get to his feet, he merely began to clean his face.

As relieved as he was not to fight, Rusty had to admit he was disappointed too. Every part of him had been ready for a fight on fair terms, but it was clear that this tom had other ideas in mind; maybe he was scared of Rusty getting even.

“Hiya, kittypet!” The gray cat meowed in between licks of his paw. “You’re quite the fighter, for someone raised by Twolegs!”

Rusty paused, considering whether or not it was worth trying to show the other a taste of what had been pulled on him. Then he remembered how difficult it had been to get out of the other’s claws; though covered with thick fur, he could see the muscles in the other’s form. He let himself relax, though cautiously gave himself a couple extra paces of distance. “I’ll fight you again, if you make me.” He growled at the other, flexing his claws and mentally thanking his housefolk that they hadn’t trimmed them recently.

“I’m Graypaw, by the way!” The other introduced himself as he moved on to cleaning his ears. “I’m training to be a Thunderclan warrior, so I can defend our territory. What’s a kittypet like you doing out here, anyways? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“If you’re the most dangerous thing the woods has to offer, then I can handle it.” Privately, Rusty knew that if this Graypaw character was half as dangerous as a ‘Thunder warrior’, then he stood no chance out here, but the other didn’t know that.

Graypaw paused in cleaning to glare at him with narrowed yellow eyes, and for a moment Rusty felt a bolt of fear run through him. “Oh, I’m far from the most dangerous. If I were half a warrior, I could’ve stripped the fur from your tail and left you crying for your Twolegs!” He shrugged and began to preen his claws of Rusty’s ginger fur. “But I didn’t think you were worth the trouble. You’re obviously not from one of the other Clans.”

Rusty blinked and tilted his head. “The other Clans?” He echoed, not entirely sure what the other was on about now. Twolegs, Thunder warriors, Clans - all of this was a lot of words to comprehend.

Graypaw huffed and rolled his eyes as he pulled a particularly stubborn clump out of his dewclaw. “You must have heard of the warrior Clans that live here! I belong to Thunderclan. The other Clans are always trying to take our territory or steal our prey, so we have to defend ourselves from their constant scheming. Especially Shadowclan! You’re lucky you didn’t run into them, they would have torn you to shreds, no questions asked.” He huffed and spat at the forest floor, leaving bright hairs behind. “It’s the job of us warriors to keep them out. When I’ve finished training, I’ll be as big and strong as Tigerclaw. The other Clans won’t dare come near us then!”

Tigerclaw? Rusty decided it was better not to ask too many questions, lest the other decide he knew too much and shred him to bits after all. It was clear this was one of the wild cats that Smudge had been talking about. The thought that maybe Henry’s tall tales were true after all made him shiver a bit, but he licked at his chest instead to try and hide the fear. “That all sounds like a lot of work, fighting for everything you’ve got. Why don’t you just find yourself an owner instead? Your life would be much easier. All you’d have to do is sit and look hungry where they can see-”

“And get fed rabbit droppings and mouse bile all day? No way!” Graypaw cut him off before he could finish. “I can’t think of anything worse! Having to serve the whim of Twolegs, eating stuff that isn’t food, making dirt in a tiny box? That’s a horrible way to live!” He straightened up proudly, letting the moon shine on his fur. “Out here, we get to make our own lives. We live for the thrill of the hunt and the fight. And we get to eat real food.” He eyed Rusty with a smirk. “Have you ever tasted a mouse?”

Rusty thought back to the mouse that had gotten away from him, thanks to how this cat had driven him off. “No. Not yet, anyways.” He grumbled. “I would’ve, if you hadn’t stopped me.”

Graypaw snorted. “Don’t be silly. A kittypet like you could never catch prey. Even if you did, you’ll never really understand how it feels to live the way we do out here.”

Rusty thought back to the dream he’d had, the pounding excitement that had coursed through him during the chase - a feeling that had only grown stronger when he’d stalked that mouse. “That’s not true! I-”

“You need to go!” Graypaw interrupted him again, stiffening as he sat up. “My Clanmates - they’re nearby. If they catch you here, they won’t be so nice!”

Rusty stiffened, preparing to spring away into the bushes, but when he turned he came face-to-face with a large gray molly, striding proudly from the undergrowth. Her fur dazzled in the moonlight, sparkling in a way Graypaw’s darker coat had not. Even with white frosting her muzzle, it was clear that she was far more powerful an opponent than Graypaw to any that dared challenge her. “What’s going on here?”

“Bluestar! I-” Graypaw crouched down in reverence as he spotted her, crouching even lower as a large, fluffy tom followed her into the clearing; where she shone silver, he shone the color of gold, shimmering just like the tag on Rusty’s collar.

“You shouldn’t have come so close to the Twolegplace, Graypaw!” The golden tabby growled down at him as he came to stand beside the molly; Bluestar, it would seem.

“Yes, Lionheart.” Graypaw looked down at his paws in shame, before glancing to Rusty and ducking his head as a signal to copy him. Nervously, the housecat did so, well aware that these two cats could kill him in heartbeats if they so chose. While Graypaw had been strong, he could see how well-muscled these cats were; they were in a league of their own, compared to him.

“Who is this?” Bluestar asked, her blue eyes meeting Rusty’s green ones with cold indifference. Rusty flinched, not liking how vulnerable he felt under her piercing gaze. It seemed almost as though she could see right through him and sense the fear inside of him.

“He’s not a threat to us.” Graypaw mewed quickly. “He’s not even another apprentice, just some Twoleg pet.” To Rusty, he added, “Bluestar is the leader of our Clan! And Lionheart’s my mentor, he’s training me to be a warrior.”

For a moment, Rusty wanted to snap that he wasn’t some Twoleg pet; he was certainly different from lazy old Henry! Bluestar’s ear twitched and his temper immediately cooled as he remembered she could make sure he never left this forest alive. To his surprise, he noticed a shift in her gaze, as though she saw the anger inside of him. “You fight well, for a Twoleg pet.” She mewed, her voice quiet but loud enough to echo in his ears.

Rusty spared a glance to the other, younger tom, who seemed as confused as he was. “We’ve been watching you.” Lionheart spoke up beside Bluestar, fixing his stare on the gray tom. “We were curious how you would deal with a potential intruder. You attacked him bravely, even though you are still inexperienced.”

Graypaw’s eyes glowed at the praise, and he furtively licked his shoulder out of pride.

“Sit up!” Bluestar snapped suddenly. Rusty jolted and immediately obeyed, alongside the not-yet-a-warrior. He half expected her to tear him apart, but instead, he thought he saw her features soften. “You reacted well to the attack, kittypet. Graypaw is larger and stronger than you, but you surprised and outsmarted him. And you turned to fight, rather than let him chase you. I’ve not seen a kittypet do that before.”

Rusty blinked in shock, managing to mutely nod his thanks. Was he supposed to say something back? Was it common for Clan cats to praise each other, as a way of greeting?

“I have been wondering if you would venture out here, beyond the Twolegplace. I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, staring out into the forest like none of the other kittypets do. And now, at last, you have dared to cross your borders to come here.” She contemplated him, her eyes still just as piercing as when she had first appeared; as though she were reading each thought as it came into his mind. “You have sharp eyes, and a keen mind. A natural hunting ability. If you hadn’t hesitated so long, you would have caught that mouse.”

“Bluestar, this is a kittypet!” Lionheart spoke up, his tone respectful but with an insistence and confidence Rusty could never possess talking to such a powerful fighter. “He crossed our borders to take our prey. You should send him home to his Twolegs, where he belongs.”

Rusty’s fur rose once more at the tom’s words. Bluestar had not only noticed him, but she had been impressed by him! The other two might not see anything out of him, but it was clear she could see what he felt; that he belonged out here. “I’m not just a kittypet!” He snapped at last to the golden tom. “I can hunt and fight, the same as you! You just don’t want to admit a housecat could be a better wild cat than you!”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and for a brief moment he thought that perhaps Lionheart would tear him apart for daring to talk back. His fears rose as the other began to growl, a thick, deep snarl that stopped and started with every breath he took as he began to shake. It was then that he realized the other wasn’t growling; he was laughing!

“Prove it.”

Rusty blinked as Bluestar spoke, turning his gaze to her steady blue one. For a moment, he almost wondering if he misheard her. “Pardon?”

“You claim you are not just a kittypet. But could you handle leaving your comfortable, shallow life?” He pricked his ears forward, clinging on her every quiet, indifferent word. “Could you handle going hungry to ensure the young and old stay healthy and strong? Could you endure the bitter cold of a leafbare night, with no Twoleg home to run back to? Could you fight to protect the weak, even if it cost you your life? The life of a forest cat is harsh, and nature can be cruel and capricious. Surely you would prefer the steady food and warmth that comes with being a Twoleg plaything?”

His head reeled as he tried to comprehend what she was asking. “Understand, young one, what you receive for giving up your freedom.” Lionheart spoke up beside her, his laughing fit gone. “Every day is a fight just to live. You come here to hunt for sport, for a trophy to bring back to your kittypet friends. But we must relish every prey we catch, for it can mean the difference between life and death for not just ourselves, but for our Clan.”

He levelled Rusty with a steady green gaze, his eyes burning into the housecat’s wide emerald eyes. “The life of a warrior is to suffer gladly, to ensure that others may thrive. You may be confined to a small patch of grass, but at least you will never suffer hardship a day in your life.”

Rusty thought about his own easy, selfish life. It was true; he would never have to hunt a day in his life, if he so desired. And was it truly fair for him to hunt at all, given that it was so laughably unnecessary when there were those who would kill for the chance to eat three meals every day? And certainly, he had friends that he could spend his days with, day in and day out, for the rest of his life. He would be content.

But that was a lie.

Smudge had never understood why Rusty spent so much time staring at the forest. He never spoke of vivid dreams in which he was alive, really and truly alive, chasing through the forest in pursuit of prey. The black-and-white housecat would be content to spend a day in the sun with his housefolk, relaxing in the sun as they tended to their garden, just like Henry.

But Rusty could never live with himself if he had to stare at the forest, wondering what would have happened if he never came back. He could never truly be comfortable in the hot, dry air of his Twoleg house, longing for the cool, earthy scent of outside. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed as though his thoughts always came back to the forest. He would never be content as a housecat. Not if he had the chance to take control of his own fate.

“Come, Bluestar, we must meet the other patrol at moonhigh. If we don’t leave now, Tigerclaw will wonder what has happened to us.” Lionheart spoke, his voice like a knife through Rusty’s thoughts.

“Wait! Wait.” Rusty paused, unsure how to ask what he so desperately wanted. “Say- say I did want to prove it to you. That I can be a warrior.”

Bluestar and Lionheart shared a glance. “If you choose freedom over your own shallow life, Thunderclan could train you to become a Clan warrior alongside Graypaw. You would become a part of our Clan; you would live with us, and dedicate yourself to the future of the Clan. You would even defend the Clan with your life, if necessary. But you would also learn what it means to be wild, and to be free; to know that the Clan will always be beside you, even when you walk alone.” Bluestar’s voice was soft and harsh, and yet it sang sweeter than any birdsong Rusty had heard before.

“And understand that you would only be training with us. There is no guarantee you would ever be able to become a full warrior. And if you did become a Clan cat, you would never return to your Twolegplace. If you did…” Lionheart let his words hang in the air for several moments, “Then you would be exiled. Understand that you cannot live with a paw in both worlds; you must choose one, forever.”

He wanted to say yes, then and there. But then he thought of Smudge, waiting longingly for him on the fencepost to return. Though his housefolk would be sad, they would get a new housecat to replace him; one that would be happy to stay with Smudge in the gardens all day. And Smudge would move on, he was sure; but it would be unfair not to give him a proper goodbye. “Can I think about it?”

He worried for a heartbeat that his request would be seen in and of itself as a denial; that they would decide that a moment of hesitance was too much for them. To his surprise, Bluestar nodded. “Very well. Lionheart will be here tomorrow at sunhigh. If you are not there, he will assume the answer is no.”

Rusty spared a glance to Graypaw, whose eyes were huge, his tail bushed with excitement. “Can I come too?” He squeaked, seeming to have finally gotten over the spell of silence Lionheart had placed on him.

“No.” Lionheart’s voice was stern. “Now, come; and be sure to keep up. We must hurry, if we are to arrive by moonhigh.” He nudged his apprentice off into the bush. With one last unreadable glance, Bluestar followed them. Rusty looked on as they merged into the shadows, jealous energy thrumming in his paws. One day, that could be him. Freedom was almost in his paws, and unlike the mouse, he wasn’t about to let it slip away.

#talonslock #warrior cats #wc #fanfic #the prophecies begin #fire and ice #talonslock story #thunderclan #graypaw #rusty #bluestar #redtail #henry #smudge

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ruknowhere · 2 years

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Twilight Hours

Sadakichi Hartmann - 1867-1944

The colors of the rainbow are fading in the silent

and distant West, and the heartache of

twilight trembles within my aching breast.

For the light of my love has faded like sunbeams

in the West, and the color of twilight will

tremble forever in my breast.

I think of thy kindness often, when lonesome I feel

and cold, I have not forgotten our childhood,

nor your loving words of old.

And still my sweetest songs of life are floating

in dreams to thee, like whisperings at eventide,

across a clouded sea.

III

We two are sitting in the bark, and listen to the

wavelets’play, the shore is melting in the

dark, day’s echoes silently decay.

Oh life, with all thy hopes so fair, wilt thou

too float away, like visions rising in the

air that greet the parting day!

She stands amidst the roses, and tears dart from her

eyes that like the fragrant roses her soul

must fade and die.

He stares at the twilight ocean on the shore of a

foreign land, a faded rose is trembling

within his soft white hand.

The rushes whisper softly, the sounds of silence wake,

large flowers like sad remembrance float

on the dark green lake.

Were life but like the waters, so bright and calm

and deep, and love like floating flowers

that on the surface meet.

The naked trees of autumn grope shivering through

twilight’s gloom, athwart the whispering branches

its dying embers loom.

I dream of life’s defoliation, as I watch with

silent dread, leaf after leaf departing, like

hopes long withered and dead.

VII

In haunting hours of twilight dreams restless the

turbulent sea, and heaves her white wanton

bosom in endless mystery.

Dream on, dream on, titanic queen, beloved sea, at

thy wanton breast, I would find rest

in endless mystery.

From Drifting Flowers of the Sea and Other Poems (1904) by Sadakichi Hartmann. This poem is in the public domain.

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akechi-gf · 2 years

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Saiki hates how overwhelming some things can be- how even in the silence of their own home, they can hear the vivid hustle and bustle of the farmers market by the edge of town. They hate spicy foods, tangy and peppery and fragrant in the wrong ways, unusual heat spreading from their tongue to their throat to their nose and eyes. They hate walking through malls, especially the more cosmetic-focused areas of department stores, because of how pungent and all-consuming the different scents of cheap perfume come together in an ungodly amalgamation of fruits and oceans and candies.

One thing they appreciate though, is how all of these become unimportant the moment they’re alone with Kaidou. Don’t get them wrong- being with Shun is overwhelming in its own way, but not the type of overwhelming that would send Saiki to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Korea, no. Rather, the type of overwhelming that has Saiki’s defences melting away. It’s a subtle power that the blue-haired boy holds over him, not as threatening as his Dark Reunion-induced delusions, but just as earth-shattering.

It’s earth-shattering in the way that Shun, ever-so-often, would peek over at Saiki from his spot a mere foot or so away from them, pretending like he was paying attention to the week-old manga panels that Aren sent over. Illegal in the way that he would climb up onto Saiki’s motorcycle, gripping onto their waist with an eager and jealous expression, because after all this time he himself still hadn’t gotten a licence for one yet. Overwhelming in the way that late in the night when Saiki knew he was supposed to be asleep, Kaidou would text them- ‘Saiki, want to sneak out with me tonight?’ because somehow he knew that he would never get caught by his mom when it was Saiki he was sneaking out with to aimlessly walk the vacated streets of the S Prefecture.

Shun was overwhelming, because when Kusuo had grown to be extremely cautious of the entire world’s eyes landing on them, all Shun had to do was offer his silk-flower smile, and it would just be the two of them- even if they were in the midst of a crowd at a festival, or in the company of their friends at a questionable ramen shop. When Shun held their hand, it felt as though it was only ever (and only ever will be) the two of them, floating in an untouchable bubble, away from everyone else, and alone together.

And to Saiki, well, that was all they had ever dreamed of.

#WHATS THE SHIP NAME FOR KUSUO AND SHUN #saidou #???#well.#woke up in a cold sweat and the spirit of shuichi aso wrote this for me #saiki k #saiki kusuo #kaidou shun #oneshot #drabble #my writing #tdlosk #HOW DO I TAG THIS IM DELIRIOUS

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father-of-the-void · 1 year

Quote

As if I'd slept a thousand years underwater I wake into a new season. I am the blue lotus rising. I am the cup of dreams and memory opening--I, the thousand-petaled flower. At dawn the sun rises naked and new as a babe; I open myself and am entered by light. This is the joy, the slow awakening into fire as one by one the petals open, as the fingers that held tight the secret unfurl. I let go of the past and release the fragrance of flowers. I open and light descends, fills me and passes through, each thin blue petal reflected perfectly in clear water. I am that lotus filled with light reflected in the world. I float content within myself, one flower with a thousand petals, one life lived a thousand years without haste, one universe sparking a thousand stars, one god alive in a thousand people. If you stood on a summer's morning on the bank under a brillant sky, you would see the thousand petals and say that together they make the lotus. But if you lived in its heart, invisible from without, you might see how the ecstasy at its fragrant core gives rise to its thousand petals. What is beautiful is always that which is itself in essence, a certaintly of being. I marvel at myself and the things of earth. I float among the days in peace, content. Not part of the world, the world is all the parts of me. I open toward the light and lift myself to the gods on the perfume of prayer. I ask for nothing beyond myself. I own everything I need. I am content in the company of god, a prayer that contains its own answer. I am the lotus. As if from a dream, I wake up laughing.

Awakening Osiris, Becoming the Lotus

#osiris #awakening osiris #book of the dead #egyptian book of the dead #kemet #ancient kemet #becoming the lotus #blue lotus #lotus #egypt #ancient egypt

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archaictold · 1 year

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🌸🌸🌸

⧼ 🌱 ⧽ ┊ ❛ NON-VERBAL.

GOLDEN were the fields of Qingce, gilded by budding blossoms and the sunlight that kissed them. He laid in their midst, buried beneath them like a blanket as dusk painted the sky in shades of vivid amber and baby blue, for he was tired—oh so tired—and home. He smelled of fragrant earth, heard the whisper of tepid wind in his ears as it gathered the olive tufts of his hair like dandelions spurred into flight. He felt its tickle on his scalp, lulling him into the waiting embrace of slumber as his eyes grew heavy... until he was weightless with sleep, floating in dark vacant space. In the absence of wind or scenery, the tickle against his scalp persisted. And he stirred as he drifted without gravity. Once, ‘til it tickled again, then twice more. Cold was the first sensation he regained, the resounding shiver that came with its realization making him lucid. He was not lying in the fields of Qingce, nor was he home. He had been asleep against the snow, slumped beneath the alabaster canopy of a tree in one of Spirale’s many parks. Thankfully, he had dressed for the weather. And as he straightened, blinking the dust of sleep from his eyes, there was a man crouched at his side, observing the rise from his dream. He shook his head awake; in doing so, petals shed from him like the leaves of an oak tree in fall. The tickling in his dream had been these flowers laid into his tresses, presumably by the man in his company. ❝ Oh, um... ❞ A hand fisted at his eye, bumping his spectacles from his rosy-tipped nose. He was quick to adjust them with a smile, though the motion was still weighed down by his drowsiness.

❝ Sorry, I think I dozed off while I was reading... I’m alright, I promise. ❞ His gaze fell to the open-faced book in his lap, and the petals—violet wisteria—that had fallen into its pages. ❝ Was I talking in my sleep? I was, um, dreaming about flowers... not too unlike these. ❞

#(rattles off in drabble form)#SORRY IF THIS DOESNT FIT..#i was just thinking he's probably had qingce on his mind and the fields of flowers there came to mind #i also wasn't sure how someone would sneak some flowers in his hair so- (knocks him out) FJGDK #thank u for the ask!#ryuujin #answer tbt.#ryuujin 001.

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floralallure · 9 months

Text

Flower-Powered Wedding Decor: Ideas and Inspirations

When it comes to planning the perfect wedding, every detail matters. From the dress to the venue, couples strive to create a memorable and magical experience for themselves and their guests. One aspect that can truly transform a wedding’s ambiance is the choice of floral decorations. Flowers have a unique ability to add elegance, romance, and a touch of nature’s beauty to any wedding setting. In this article, we will explore some enchanting ideas and inspirations for flower-powered wedding decor that can turn your special day into a floral paradise. At Floral Allure, a leading flower shop in Dubai, we are dedicated to helping you achieve the wedding of your dreams with our top-notch flower delivery services in the UAE.

Floral Allure: Your Go-To for Stunning Wedding Decor

Before diving into the creative possibilities of flower-powered wedding decor, let’s take a moment to introduce Floral Allure’s exceptional services in this field. As a renowned flower shop in Dubai, we understand the importance of floral arrangements in weddings. Our team of expert florists specializes in curating bespoke wedding decor that perfectly aligns with your vision and theme. Whether you’re planning a classic, rustic, modern, or whimsical wedding, we have a wide range of fresh flowers and unique designs to suit your needs. With our reliable flower delivery service across the UAE, we ensure that your wedding flowers are delivered fresh and on time, making your special day even more memorable.

1. Stunning Floral Archways

Imagine walking down the aisle under a breathtaking archway adorned with cascading flowers. Floral archways have become a popular choice for wedding ceremonies, creating a picturesque backdrop for exchanging vows. At Floral Allure, we can design custom archways that incorporate your favorite blooms and color palette, making this moment truly unforgettable.

2. Romantic Table Centerpieces

Elevate your reception tables with exquisite floral centerpieces. From towering arrangements of roses and peonies to delicate, minimalist designs featuring baby’s breath and eucalyptus, the possibilities are endless. Floral Allure’s experts can help you select the perfect centerpiece that complements your overall wedding theme and decor.

3. Floral Chandeliers

For an added touch of luxury and grandeur, consider hanging floral chandeliers above your dining area. These breathtaking installations can be tailored to match your chosen color scheme and floral preferences, creating an enchanting atmosphere for your guests to enjoy.

4. Flower-Filled Aisles

Make a statement as you walk down the aisle by lining it with petals or creating a lush carpet of flowers. Floral Allure can help you design a unique and personalized aisle that reflects your style, whether you prefer a simple and elegant look or a more extravagant display.

5. Floating Floral Decor

Water features at your wedding venue can be transformed into captivating displays with floating floral arrangements. These arrangements add a touch of romance and tranquility to your surroundings. You can choose from a variety of floating blooms, including lotus flowers, orchids, or fragrant gardenias.

6. Floral Photo Backdrops

Create lasting memories with stunning photo backdrops featuring lush flowers and greenery. Whether it’s a wall covered in roses, an archway adorned with peonies, or a hanging flower curtain, these backdrops provide the perfect setting for capturing precious moments with your loved ones.

7. Bridal Bouquet and Boutonniere

Of course, no wedding is complete without the bride’s bouquet and the groom’s boutonniere. Floral Allure can craft exquisite arrangements that coordinate with your chosen color scheme and floral theme, ensuring that every detail enhances the overall aesthetics of your special day.

8. Hanging Gardens

Transform your reception space into a fairy tale wonderland with hanging gardens. Suspended floral arrangements and greenery create a dreamy atmosphere that will leave your guests in awe. These installations are perfect for indoor weddings, adding a touch of nature to your celebration.

Incorporating flowers into your wedding decor is not only visually appealing but also emotionally meaningful. Flowers symbolize love, beauty, and new beginnings, making them the perfect choice for celebrating your union. With Floral Allure’s flower delivery services in the UAE, you can have the freshest and most stunning blooms delivered to your doorstep, ensuring that your wedding decor is nothing less than perfect.

In conclusion, the power of flowers in wedding decor cannot be overstated. From enchanting archways to romantic centerpieces and breathtaking photo backdrops, the possibilities are limitless. Floral Allure, your trusted flower shop in Dubai, is here to help you bring your floral wedding dreams to life with our expert floral designers and reliable flower delivery services in the UAE. Your wedding day should be a reflection of your love story, and what better way to do that than with the natural beauty and elegance of flowers?

So, as you plan your special day, remember that flower-powered wedding decor can turn your wedding into a truly magical and unforgettable event. Let Floral Allure be your partner in creating the floral paradise you’ve always dreamed of, and let the beauty of flowers surround you as you embark on this new chapter in your life.

#dubai flowers #uae online shopping #flower gifts #flower shop #florist #wedding flowers #wedding decoration

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