#Boxwood Beauty

[cselandscapearchitect]

Grow Your Own Beauty: How to Propagate and Care for Carissa macrocarpa 'Boxwood Beauty' in Arizona

Carissa macrocarpa is native to South Africa, where it grows along coastal dunes and in subtropical forests, thriving in the warm, sunny environments typical of these regions. The ‘Boxwood Beauty’ variety was bred for its compact size, making it an excellent choice for low hedges, borders, or as a foundation plant, beautifully complementing gardens with its glossy green leaves and delicate white…

[unimpulsivethemes]

Poolhouse Poolhouse Example of a huge classic backyard brick and rectangular pool house design

[dakaria-ktp]

Pathway Boston Photo of a large traditional full sun backyard stone landscaping.

[elevate-rp]

Brick in Chicago Huge traditional beige three-story brick house exterior idea with a gambrel roof and a tile roof

[hayeskarlie]

Natural Stone Pavers Detroit Here is an illustration of a sizable stone landscaping craftsman shade in the summer.

[cheahup]

Craftsman Landscape - Front Yard Here is an illustration of a sizable craftsman-style front yard landscape with brick retaining walls in the summer.

[vaultsnakes]

Landscape Natural Stone Pavers DC Metro Inspiration for a huge traditional partial sun backyard stone landscaping.

[pinknipszz]

heian era sukuna

(a/n: takes place in the same universe as this post; yet another thinly veiled uraume/reader imagine)

on the first day of spring—your favorite of all seasons—you awake to a pleasant surprise in the horigotatsu of your room: a big basket of flowers, all fresh and neatly trimmed. you struggle to swallow the squeal that’s bubbling in your throat. 

when uraume comes to style your hair (a morning habit of theirs), they find you cradling it close to your chest as you would a baby. “come and look at what my husband left me,” you say, beckoning them over with a flick of your wrist. they settle their boxwood comb on the edge of your vanity and approach to take hold of your basket.

they squint, turning it this way and that (for a little longer than necessary, just to humor you), before nodding firmly in approval. “the flowers are beautiful this year,” they say. “as expected of lord sukuna.” your face beams with delight, like a rose in full bloom, as you stroke each petal with delicate fingers. 

with infectious charm, you swoon, “he gives me the prettiest flowers!” in between your sweet babbles, uraume ushers you to sit near the vanity so they can detangle any knots that accumulated overnight. as they brush through your hair, they remain silent, but you know that these things will eventually reach your husband.

for now, though, they focus on the task at hand.

you like it when uraume fixes your hair. there’s a kindness in their movements that’s nearly unbefitting of their disposition, warm enough to melt any leftover frost. it almost reminds you of spring. perhaps the resemblance is why he orders them to keep you company.

with cherry dusted cheeks, you look down at the arrangement in your arms. there’s simply no other answer. no room for doubt in your husband’s impeccable judgment. for a creature living by a standard so unattainable to any man, there’s something so achingly mortal in the way that love oozes from every crack in his soul.

uraume is like the flowers that he leaves on the first day of spring, except they last for eternity.

(masterlist) | (a/n: third part might actually have sukuna dialogue w talks of pregnancy bc i want to try a thing)

[ltwilliammowett]

A beautiful mahogany single tea caddy, dating back to c.1840, inlaid with a boxwood ship to the top of the lid. Made by a Lighthouse keeper

[turtlesandfrogs]

Things I would immediately change about landscaping/the landscaping industry in America if I could (after supporting my family by doing garden maintenence since 2019, and being an avid life long gardener and plant person):

1. Make people realize that any style that is based on cutting back plants multiple times per year to "maintain their shape" or keep them from getting "overgrown" is rooted in the idea of conspicuous consumption and is not actually the only, or best, choice. It exists to show off the fact that you have enough wealth to do work without a yield other than short-lived aesthetics and conformity. This includes: lawns, boxwoods, any shrub/vine/tree/fern cut into a box/sphere/cylinder, shrubs/trees that are maintained at a (small) fraction of their mature size, etc.

2. Make people realize that we don't need to be watering as much as we do. Through thoughtful plant selection and the power of mulch, you wouldn't need to water at all during "normal" weather. If you live in a desert, you live in a desert, and unless they're making food or medicine, most of your plants should be able to live in a desert (I really hate saying should though, so maybe just start by learning about the native plants in your area and the role they play in the ecosystem. I'm pretty sure you'll end up falling in love with at least a few of them).

3. Convince people that you can use native plants in your garden, in an aesthetically pleasing way, while reducing the amount of watering, soil amendments, and fussing in general that's needed, while also supporting native animal species. Talk about a win-win! I mean, people go to great lengths to look at natural beauty, and then work. so. hard. to prevent that beauty from showing up in their yards.

5. Finally get people to understand that landscape fabric does not work as advertised/ makes it so you don't have to weed ever. It was apparently intended as an underlayment to rocks, gravel, etc, to prevent them from sinking into the earth over time, according to my boss who actually has a degree in landscape design.

6. If a plant is struggling, year after year, it's probably the wrong plant for that place. It's better to pick plants that are well adapted to your climate, and they'll be less stressed. Plants that aren't stressed are less vulnerable. Less vulnerable plants mean healthier plants that are less likely to have an infection or infestation. And look better. And stress you out less. Unless that's your hobby, and you know it, in which case have fun.

7. If you don't enjoy gardening, you don't need to have a garden. If you don't enjoy a lawn, you don't need to have a lawn. Having land that you're responsible for should be a joy, and if it's not, there is no shame in either not having land, or, letting someone who otherwise wouldn't have access to gardening space take care of it.

I'm sure I'll think of more.

[woncon]

➳ fairy flower

➶ knight!jongho x royalty gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ the day the fairy flowers bloom is the day Jongho saves your life.

➴ genre: fantasy, royalty au, fluff, platonic

: ̗̀➛ warnings: fight with a dragon, blood

⌨ :: 1.3k words ♡ ︵ . .

➳ ateez masterlist | main masterlist

Fairy flowers bloom when the first summer sun rays reach their petals. 

Finally, the moment is near. 

Your heart beats excitedly at the thought. Your six months of hard work in your garden will pay off. When you dug the flower bed with your own two hands into the frost-covered, frozen earth, when you went out several times every day to water your plantation and talk to the plants - for sure, when you received the magic seed from the fairies, they said that those flowers also need company for development, and if they’re lonely, they perish -, it will all pay off.

You took all the advice and serenely tended your garden. The fairy flowers grew gratefully to your tinkling, sweet voice in their comfortable earth bed.

You walk agitated, adjust your clothes, wrap your hands and keep looking in the direction of the forest, hoping that the sun will light the canopies on fire with its light, and then also your beloved flowers. 

They’re now only bashfully and shyly hiding in their buds.

"Don't worry, the sun will rise soon. You get the most beautiful clothes from nature, so keep your heads up!" You crouch down, lift one of the sad plants, and gently stroke the soft, wing-like petals. "You will be beautiful; don't be afraid."

Encouragement has a good effect on the flower. It stretches itself out, even holding its leaves higher, so its rainbow colored veins are more visible. This dashing motion reminds you of your bodyguard. 

You turn back with a faint smile, where the man is standing not far away. Arms folded in front of his chest. He’s in full knight's armor. His gaze wanders into the distance, searching for potential danger.

You sigh, lean closer to the newly straightened creature, and entice it some more with sweet promises.

"You'll be so beautiful that you will make even Jongho smile. You'll see," you whisper confidentially.

The little flower is not only proud, but also excited to hear these words; its petals open slightly, and a honey scent wafts from them into your face. You giggle and rise from the twelve seedlings, which won't stay like this for long.

You raise your hands to your chest and look at the sky, waiting for the sun. Your heart is full of hope.

"Jongho!" you hurriedly motion to him. 

He walks next to you with measured steps. You point to the horizon, where the upper tip of an orange puck rises.

As the light reaches the flowers, they come to their senses. They shake, their pale yellow color turns beautiful golden. They bloom and open their petals, revealing the diamond dormant within them and the inside of their glittering petals.

The scent the fairy flowers emit is intoxicating. It fills the entire garden, and infuses you with the love you feel at this moment. You glance at Jongho. He has a faint, impressed smile on his lips. 

You nod to your flowers, indicating that you said so.

But your cheerfulness and intense contentment turn into deep fear, when the sun is blocked by a dragon. He is heading for the garden, approaching quickly on the back of the wind. He has smelled the fairy flowers and wants to possess their diamond brilliance.

"Jongho!" Your finger points to the horizon again. 

The man also sees the large creature. Frowning defiantly, he shoves you behind himself and pulls his sword from its sheath. 

"Stand behind me, your majesty!"

"Don't let him hurt them!"

The flowers curiously stretch their stems towards the source of danger. When the shadow of the monster covers them, they panic and try to hide, but once they have emerged from their bud, there is no way back.

The dragon's claws dig into the nearest boxwood. He snarls evilly, saliva dripping between his yellow teeth. His deep red eyes scan you with hatred, his spiky tail flaps behind him in warning, and if that wasn't enough, smoke billows from his nostrils. His throat emits a raw, menacing growl that can burst into flames at any time.

"When I give the signal, run as fast as you can." Jongho grabs your forearm to make sure you pay attention to him. You nod, your eyes misting up, but you know you have to stay strong.

The dragon is encouraged and leans closer to the flowers. He sticks out his forked tongue to smell the sweet scent.

"Now," says the knight, then thrusts his sword forward, and you leave the safety of his back to run towards the castle.

The red animal roars, jumps across the garden, and spawns in front of Jongho. As tall as a horse, but far more dangerous. The ferocity burning in his eyes only increases as soon as Jongho doesn't back down, but instead nails his sword to the scaly, muscular chest. 

Dragons hate metal, it injures them. But at the same time, this specimen is really proud and selfish. He wants to defeat the brave knight and get the flowers, even if it means getting injured.

He opens his mouth. 

The air heats up in his throat. 

Jongho sees the muscle glowing inside. 

He is about to stab with his sword, when the dragon recoils. Not by itself, he is also surprised when he notices the stalks of martial flowers tightly twisted on his hind legs. While he is not paying attention, Jongho hits him in the shoulder with his sword. 

The dragon growls. Saliva drips down his chin and blood down his forelegs.

He strikes Jongho with his other paw. Jongho sprawls on the ground. 

The creature inflates its lungs again to defeat the enemy with fire, but this time the flowers pull his legs back even tighter, and he collapses. By the time he gets himself together, the knight has already stood up, towering over him. Jongho’s sword just above the dragon's skull. A look of passionate determination on his face.

The monster is forced to admit that he has lost. In the end, his life proves to be more important than the treasures and his pride. Whimpering, he tears himself free from the grip of the fairy flowers, spreads his wings and flies away with an angry snarl.

Jongho drops his sword to the ground to grab his sore shoulder.

"Jongho!"

You’re heading towards him, followed by three court soldiers. They are the help you have been able to mobilise.

"Jongho, are you okay?" You anxiously touch his gloved hand. 

"Yes. The dragon is gone. And the fairy flowers helped chase him away."

But you easily notice the sore shoulder, even if he lowers his arm.

Damn that the royal family is not being allowed to carry weapons with themselves, you think, as you see him. You wish you could have helped him sooner, in the middle of the fight.

"Does it hurt?"

"It sprained."

"I was so afraid." Looking for safety and support, you snuggle into Jongho's healthy shoulder. "I was worried about you..."

The bodyguard gently hugs you and carefully draws you close to his armor. You are unbecomingly close to each other, but after such a crisis, you must find solace. Jongho rests his chin on your head. 

He can smell your scent, which is somehow a thousand times more special than the scent of fairy flowers. His body immediately relaxes, holding you in his arms.

Maybe even his shoulder hurts less.

"Don't be afraid, your majesty. I'll protect you at all costs."

The hug is soft and Jongho's closeness is comforting. You were terrified of losing him. Being close to him again feels like a redemption. Until now, you hadn't really realized how much the bodyguard, who accompanies you everywhere and looks after you, really means to you. Who would actually sacrifice his life for your safety.

Even if it's just duty, for the moment you spend so close to each other, you let your heart shine for Jongho like fairy flowers in the sunlight.

[alexusonfire]

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter 2

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

A/n: Artwork and beta done by the spectacular, amazing, show-stopping @booitsrue !! Collab once again with loml @daydream-cement and her Big Foldy Plant Brain. Get ready for the gay y'all!!

Summary: The love language begins.

It was a lovely spring day, the sun shining, a gentle breeze blowing through the grass. You'd been mulling over your visit to Lady Marjory's residence for the past few days, a certain raven-haired resident occupying most of your thoughts. Though you tried to remain focused on your work, you often strayed to the way Jane's nose crinkled when she found something distasteful, or how elegant her hands looked with crochet needles in them. Huffing when you realized you'd once again missed a rather important stitch, you decided perhaps it was time to pay Lady Jane a visit, see if the thoughts nagging in your brain were of any merit. You carefully packed up your supplies and wished the Matron a good afternoon, claiming family plans for your early departure.

The fresh air hit your lungs and gave you a swift boost of confidence, one you desperately needed as you began your trek to the Manor House. Doubt pricked at your skin the closer you got, and you were picking at your nail beds by the time you reached the front door. Considering your options, you suddenly found yourself frozen to the spot; perhaps this was a mistake, you'd put too much thought into it, or maybe not enough-

"Do you always loiter around people's houses, or just this one?"

Her voice caught you off guard, the very woman you'd hoped to see now standing not more than ten feet from you. Her hands clasped in front of her, ramrod straight as always, she cocked her brow in wait for an answer.

"Lady Jane. Pleasure to see you again. I um… well, I was hoping perhaps you'd join me for a walk. If you were interested. Or not busy-"

You cut yourself off before beginning to ramble, the small bubble of confidence deflating as none of this was going to plan. Hoping to come across a bit more suave, you felt slightly ridiculous simply standing there.

"You came all this way, presumably even left your workplace early… to ask me for a walk?"

Well, put like that, you really did feel ridiculous. Shuffling your feet, you replied with a quiet "yes". She seemed to consider you for a moment, her bright gaze sweeping you up and down, before nodding her head and turning, expecting you to follow. Hastily you caught up with her, matching her pace as she led you round the manor, large hedges and flower bushes indicating the start to what you were sure was a magnificent garden.

“Are you well versed in the world of botany, y/n?” Jane glanced at you from the corner of her eye, her hands folded behind herself. Her tone was impossibly indifferent, making you wonder what she was thinking beyond her question. 

You take a moment to survey the garden, mind picking out the few plant species you actually knew. Roses, london plane, boxwoods, lilac, and hydrangeas were some of the simplest species you knew off the top of your head. Glancing up to Jane and back to the mown path, you speak timidly, “Some… The matron requires me to know some as some plants are often printed on our fabrics…”

“Hmmm…” Jane hummed in response, remaining fairly silent which made you increasingly nervous.

Silence fell between the two of you, only the sounds of your footsteps and the occasional birdcall filling the air. You continued to steal glances up at the statuesque woman, her immense beauty making your heart skip a beat. There were a few moments where your hand would brush against the fabric of her dress, each time you expected her to draw herself away from you, but she remained close to you with her head held high. 

You had started to grow comfortable in the silence, beginning to gaze about the beautifully maintained gardens, thoughts wandering away. It was exceptionally embarrassing when you heard Jane clear her throat from behind you. Your wandering thoughts must have led you to continue walking even though she had stopped under a tree near a small bench a few meters back. 

“Y/n.” Her tone was cold and chiding, making your stomach turn as your cheeks grew redder as you turned back and caught her narrow gaze. Only if you would’ve known that she found your absentmindedness to be quite endearing, a nearly undetectable smile gracing her lips for a fraction of a second before you turned to face her. 

You mumble a quick apology and rush back to her side, waiting for her to sit first before taking a seat next to her, “Where is Lady Marjory today?”

"She's off shopping with a few of her friends. I offered to go with but she insisted I have some time to myself."

You felt a pang of guilt, wondering if you'd intruded on her personal time.

"I suppose it was a good thing though, otherwise you would have been left standing dumbly at our front door."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that, and were pleased to see Jane's lip twitch in humor as well. Though her comments were often framed as mild insults, you suspected dry wit was more to blame than any cruel intentions. You shifted slightly so you were facing more towards her, eager to get to know more about her whilst you had the chance.

"You had asked if I was well-versed in botany. Is that a particular subject of interest for you?"

Jane nodded, looking out at the gardens. You'd noted she hadn't made much eye contact with you since arriving, and you had to wonder if it was due to boredom or a lack of interest in you. You hoped neither.

"My mother had a wonderful garden when I was growing up. All sorts of beautiful plants, ranging from poppies and primrose to columbine. She of course never tended to them, our gardeners did… So on days I was bored or had no lessons to complete I'd stay in the gardens, and they would teach me the names of all the flora. I found it fascinating, how different plants grew better together than others, the differing care needed for what I assumed to be similar species."

The entire time she spoke you gazed at her with a sort of unbridled affection, not quite believing she was so open with you about a passion of hers. You could see her, tiny Jane, running about in the gardens with dirt-caked nails and flowers in her hair… quite the stark contrast from the woman who now sat beside you.

You wondered what it would take for her to put flowers in her hair.

"That sounds lovely Jane, truly. Do you still like to spend your time outdoors, amongst the flowers?"

"I do. I find it… relaxing. Peaceful."

You felt the need to contribute your own knowledge to the conversation, not wanting Jane to find you dull, “I’ve heard of the language of flowers once... From a customer who runs a flower shop with her husband. She says that each kind of flower, even down to the color, has a unique meaning.” Thinking back on the short lesson the florist had provided, you begin reciting some of the flowers and their meaning for Jane, “Yellow carnation for disdain, hollyhock for ambition, morning glory for affection, red tulips to declare your love...”

“Yarrow for everlasting love, blue salvia for when you are thinking of someone... I am well versed in the language of flowers.” Jane glanced down at you with an air of mischief around her, much like she knew a secret that no one else did. With a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she leaned in close, her voice hushed, “Violets are my favorite, however. Many see them to be a religious symbol of modesty and humility, but of course... there are many interpretations.” 

The mention of other interpretations made your brow furrow, thinking hard about if the florist had mentioned anything about violets. Rather than dwell on the fact that you had no concept of what the other interpretations could be, you turn your attention back up to Jane, who was still lingering close, “I can’t say I know much about violets... Other than that, they are a lovely spring flower.” 

“That they are... That they are...” Jane murmured in agreement, turning back to face forwards. Her arm was pressed against yours, evident of an increased proximity after your discussion of flowers. Once again, she didn’t move away from you, but instead, continued glancing about the gardens as if you weren’t slowly dying inside. 

The small talk continued for a few minutes before Jane suggested you keep walking. Unbeknownst to you, she was actually rather eager to share her vast knowledge, especially with someone who actually seemed to care. She spent the next hour or so walking you through the various plant life surrounding you, answering all of your questions and adding little tidbits in here and there. It was… nice to have someone to share with, someone willing to listen when she accidentally started to ramble on. 

You couldn’t hide your disappointment when you saw the front walkway come back into view, bringing an end to your walk with Jane. There was a small part of you desperately hoping she would invite you in for tea, just to spend a few more minutes enraptured in your conversations. After your time together in the gardens, you were not only enthralled by her beauty but her immense intellect and wit. 

“May I call on you again, Miss Murdstone? For another walk?”

“Jane, please...” She corrected your formal usage of her name, making your heart flutter. After all the walking and discussions, something about her face seemed softer as it observed you from its lofty position. With a smile, Jane affirmed your request, “Yes. Yes, you may.” 

--

Slow to rise from bed the next morning, you took a moment to linger in the warmth of your bedsheets, face pressing into the comfort of your pillow, mind wandering back to your walk with Jane. She had you entirely smitten, her voice, words, and form filling every corner of your mind. After taking a few minutes to think about your crush, you pull yourself from bed, ready to make yourself presentable and begin your chores before Matron Mary is in for the day. 

After your morning routine, you trot down the back stairs, straight into the shop, headed towards the front door to check for the morning mail. Eyes scanning the shop, you make a mental note of how everything was in order, aside from the small project Mary had you working on in the far corner of the room. Once at the front door, you twist the door handle with your right hand while flipping the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’ with your left. 

Stepping one foot out the front door, you dip one hand into the mailbox mounted on the side of the building. Immediately, you retract your hand at the feeling of something that was anything but paper. You crane your neck outside the front door, looking down into the mailbox to see two letters and a bundle of purple flowers, undoubtedly violets. Scooping the contents from the mailbox, you swiftly retreat back into the dress shop, closing the door with your foot. 

You deposit the two letters from Mary on the front desk and turn your attention to the miniature bouquet before you. There was a small note tied to the front of the flowers, reading: 

As Sappho once said: 

Many crowns of violets,

roses and crocuses

…together you set before more

and many scented wreaths

made from blossoms

around your soft throat…

…with pure, sweet oil

…you anointed me,

and on a soft, gentle bed…

you quenched your desire…

…no holy site…

we left uncovered,

no grove…

J.M.

[nocandnc]

The second follow-up entry to the recent ship proposal Ask, this time for OkoHoshi!

How would an Okonogi x Hoshina proposal go?

Okonogi wouldn't dare! It's all up to Hoshina.

He might get on one knee and ask her to... join him in transferring to a different division, should he happen to make Captain?? But not to flat out propose. He comes from a very traditional household, so I don't see western-styled proposals being his thing.

Speaking of tradition, he's probably been forced to attend a few family-arranged omiai here and there. As a form of malicious compliance he asks Okonogi if she wants to come along as his plus one - or maybe she could replace the other party altogether?

Okonogi scoffs and shakes her head and even laughs if she's in the mood for jokes. She never takes his words as anything more than that. Nor should she! If he wanted to be taken seriously, he'd have to actually be serious.

How terrifying.

So if Hoshina manages to propose, it's still going to be in the most vague, saying-it-without-saying-it manner he can possibly muster.

Okonogi is mildly perplexed when the Vice Captain interrupts her workday by placing a small box atop her keyboard. Rude. She's been at the computer for a few hours now and her eyes are tired, so she can't help but squint at it suspiciously. Was this some kind of prank?

A present, he assures her, even though there's no cause for it.

The so-called present turns out to be a boxwood comb, simply carved but still beautiful in detail and finishing. Konomi picks it up carefully. Curiously.

"Are you telling me to... take care of my hair?"

"Well, yeah." Soshiro gestures at her with playful exasperation. "Just look at it!"

The look Okonogi shoots him is decidedly not playful.

...

......

"...But I'd..." Hoshina rubs at the sweat forming on his neck, trying to wring the words out. "I'd help you take care of... I mean, I want to take care of you. All of you. Not just your hair, y'know?"

It's clear from her expression that Okonogi Konomi does not 'know'. Not quite.

Inhale. Exhale. Hoshina Soshiro steels himself.

"…And if possible, I'd like you to take care of me too."

The Vice Captain's eyes meet hers as he speaks. They're sharp and steady and piercing and it's more than she can bear. Okonogi looks away in a confused panic, back to the comb in her hands.

A comb. A comb?

A beautiful hair comb... from Hoshina Soshiro...

Oh.

The realization hits her and Konomi thinks she might burst out laughing, but when she puts a hand to her face there are only tears.

"Wh...! Why can't you just ask me normally, Soshirooo!?"

It's all she can manage to say before crumpling entirely.

Soshiro wraps his arms around the crying woman, computer chair and all. Mouth pressed firmly to the top of her head, the question of will you marry me is muffled by soft chestnut hair.

-

Note: Before engagement rings were introduced to Japan, it was customary to present one's desired bride-to-be with a comb when proposing marriage.

[violettduchess]

I’d like to request angel Clavis 😇

A/N: here you are anon 💜

Clavis x Reader

WC: ~1k

You are asleep, your head pillowed on his shoulder, one hand resting right above his heart. He dares not move, dares not breathe too heavily for fear of waking you. His golden gaze runs over the line of your cheekbone, the curve of your lips, the softness of your hair. He could stare at you like a student studying a masterpiece and never grow tired, always finding something new to marvel at. 

The orb that floats a few inches off of his nightstand suddenly begins to glow, a pulsing, pure, white light. It’s bright enough that you squint your closed eyes against it, shifting in his arms to shield yourself. With a soft sigh, he pulls himself away from your warmth, pushing himself up with one arm and then reaches for the orb.

“I can go,” you murmur sleepily, sitting up beside him, eyes now open, your hair falling across the bare skin of his shoulder as you rest your chin there lightly. He turns the orb in his hands, examining the image that slowly materializes inside of it. His lips curve in a smile and he turns his head, pressing a feather-soft kiss to your nose. “You will stay right here, my stars above, and keep the bed nice and warm with thoughts of me while I am gone.” Another kiss, this time to your forehead, and he is up, out of bed. You pull the fluffy white covers up to your chin, snuggling back against the pillows. It’s easy to admire him as he stretches, his long, lean silhouette against the morning light. Glancing over his shoulder at you, he grins cheekily. “I am so glad to see my love still enjoys the view after all this time.” 

Your laughter fills his heart with warmth, a river of affection that flows through him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head to the feathery tips of the wings now unfolding in all their glory from his shoulder blades. They open with a whoosh and you sigh like a maiden in the blush of love. Beautiful pale lavender wings, the edges of each feather kissed by gold. They never fail to make your heart ache with their majesty.

He blows you a final kiss and then walks towards the open, arched window, stepping up onto the smooth ledge. There is no hesitation as he leaps out into the celestial white, disappearing from view. Down he soars, through the radiant glow, breaking through to the bright blue of the worldly sky, his eyes sharp as he studies the slowly approaching earth below. Soon the Rhodolite Palace comes into view, small as a child’s toy. He flies down towards it, winding his way through the towers until he reaches the lavish Rose Gardens and spots what he has been summoned for: a little girl of around five with twilight hair that falls in waves down her back and determined eyes narrowed in concentration as she climbs the garden's gazebo, her young limbs trembling with exertion, heart thundering in her small chest.

Clavis lands soundlessly on the gazebo’s tiled roof, head tilted to one side as he watches the child huff and puff as she throws one leg up to finalize her daring feat…..and her tiny fingers lose their grip on the slanted roof. With a shriek, she begins to fall and Clavis is there, darting forward to catch her, cradling her in his arms and then gently depositing her into the springy safety of one of the boxwood hedges below.

“Letizia!” A man comes bounding across the gardens, a man with Clavis’s golden gaze and your silken hair. He rushes to his daughter’s side, gathering her against him for a moment, his eyes closed in relief before he leans back, inspecting her hurriedly, worry blanching his face of color. “Darling…..what on earth were you doing up there?” 

She is shaking but tries to hide it, pushing her lavender hair out of her eyes with a hand still chubby with the last remnants of childhood. “I wanted to show Cyran that I’m as brave as he is!” Clavis watches his son sigh heavily, his hands clasping her narrow shoulders. “Lettie, sweetheart, I’m certain your brother knows how fearless you are. After all, who does he call to take care of all the big spiders, hm?” The young girl giggles, pride turning her cheeks a soft pink. Her father stands, offering her his hand and she takes it. “Come on, let’s go back inside and get you cleaned up before your mother sees the mess you’ve made of your stockings.” They begin walking down the path back towards the palace when the man pauses, looking over his shoulder at the gazebo. Clavis sees himself reflected in his son’s golden eyes. He takes in the gazebo and for a heart-stopping moment, Clavis wonders if he can see him.

“Sweet girl, you must have a guardian angel looking out for you. A fall like that could have ended so much worse.” Letizia turns, her young, innocent eyes landing directly on Clavis. She smiles broadly. “I sure do, Papa.” 

Clavis watches them, his son and his granddaughter, until they have disappeared down the path. His family. His legacy. The continuation of his heart. And then with a powerful flap of his wings, he rises up towards the stark blue sky, through the white haze of clouds, higher and higher until the arched window comes into view. 

You’re there, waiting for him in bed, just as you said you would be. He smiles slowly, his wings folding back down, flat against his back. He slides into the welcoming bed and into your waiting arms, his eyes closing as he scoots down to lay his cheek against your heart.

“And, Clavis? Everything went well?” Your fingers stroke his hair gently. “Crisis averted, dear one. Our son and granddaughter are perfect.” He tilts his head up to look at you, his divine love, his own Paradise, and smiles. “Now tell me how much you missed me while I was off being heroic.” You laugh, a glorious sound to his ears. You need no words to answer him: your reply is a kiss as soft as angel-down. As he sighs your name, tender as a prayer, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close against your heart, a heart full of love as vast as the heavens themselves.

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[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

Brushstrokes of New Orleans: 002

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The garden of the Mikaelson mansion was a symphony of colors and textures, a lush tapestry woven from the finest threads of nature. Vibrant blooms cascaded from trellises and arbors, their petals kissed by the golden rays of the setting sun.

The air was alive with the heady scent of jasmine and honeysuckle, mingling with the earthy fragrance of damp soil. As Elijah and I wandered through the garden, I couldn't help but be struck by the beauty that surrounded us. Tall hedges of boxwood formed intricate mazes, their dark green foliage a stark contrast against the blooms that flourished at their feet. 

The path beneath our feet was paved with smooth cobblestones, their surface worn by the passage of time. Elijah cut a striking figure against the backdrop of the garden, his tall frame clad in a crisp white shirt and tailored trousers, his hazel eyes sparkled in the fading light. His movements were graceful and measured, each step a testament to his poise and refinement. 

Beside him, I felt small and insignificant, a mere mortal in the presence of a god. My own appearance felt inadequate in comparison, my simple dress and worn sneakers a far cry from the elegance of Elijah's attire.

As we walked, Elijah pointed out various artifacts hidden among the foliage, his gestures graceful and fluid. He moved with a quiet confidence, his every movement imbued with a sense of purpose and grace. His voice was smooth and melodic, a soothing balm to my restless soul.

I, on the other hand, felt awkward and clumsy by comparison, my movements hesitant and uncertain. I stumbled over roots and rocks, my eyes darting nervously from one artifact to the next. And yet, despite my ineptitude, Elijah never once made me feel inadequate. Instead, he guided me with patience and kindness, his presence a steady anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

There were statues of ancient gods and goddesses, their faces weathered by centuries of exposure to the elements. There were vases and urns adorned with intricate designs, their origins shrouded in mystery. But it was one particular piece that caught my eye, a small figurine nestled in the crook of a tree. It was made of delicate porcelain, its features exquisitely crafted with painstaking detail. I felt a flicker of recognition stir within me as I gazed upon it, a memory hovering just out of reach.

"Do you recognize this piece, Penny?" Elijah asked, his voice gentle as he studied my expression.I nodded slowly, a furrow forming on my brow. 

"Yes, I believe so," I replied tentatively. "It's the figurine of Demeter, the ancient Greek goddess of agriculture and fertility." Elijah's eyebrows lifted in surprise, a hint of admiration shining in his eyes. 

"Impressive," he remarked, his voice tinged with approval. "Not many people know the name, let alone the story behind it." I smiled modestly, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in my chest at his praise. 

"I've always had a fascination with Greek mythology," I admitted, my voice tinged with excitement. "There's something so captivating about the tales of gods and goddesses, of heroes and villains." Elijah nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. 

"Indeed," he agreed, his gaze drifting back to the figurine. "The story behind this piece is quite fascinating. It is said to have been crafted by a master artisan during the height of the Athenian Empire, a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of the era."

I listened intently as Elijah recounted the tale of the figurine, his words painting a vivid picture of a time long past. It was as if he had unlocked a door to another world, allowing me to step back in time and experience history in all its glory. 

"How do you know all of this?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean, this piece isn't exactly well-known, and yet you seem to know everything about it." Elijah smiled modestly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"I have a bit of a penchant for history," he admitted, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "I find comfort in the stories of the past, in the forgotten artifacts that tell tales of bygone eras."

I couldn't help but smile at his confession, a warmth blooming in my chest at the thought of sharing this passion with him. It was a side of Elijah that I hadn't seen before.

As Elijah and I continued our leisurely stroll through the garden, we came across a small alcove tucked away beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree. Nestled within the alcove was a pedestal upon which rested a singular artifact, its presence commanding our attention.

We both stopped in our tracks simultaneously, our eyes widening in recognition as we beheld the artifact before us. Without a word spoken between us, we both uttered the name of the piece at the exact same moment, a synchronicity that sent a shiver down my spine.

"The Forgotten Symphony," we said in unison. A soft smile graced Elijah's lips as he turned to me, a twinkle of curiosity shining in his eyes. 

"It seems we share a fondness for this particular piece," he remarked, his voice tinged with intrigue. I nodded eagerly, a warmth spreading through my chest at the realization that we had a shared appreciation for the same piece of art. 

"Yes, it's always been one of my favorites," I replied, my voice filled with excitement. "There's something so hauntingly beautiful about it, don't you think?" Elijah's gaze softened as he looked at me, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if lost in the depths of my eyes. And then, with a slight stutter, he began to explain the story behind the artifact. 

"The Forgotten Symphony," he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. "It's... it's a piece that holds a special place in my heart." I watched him intently, my curiosity piqued by his sudden hesitation. 

But before he could continue, I felt a surge of confidence wash over me, a desire to help him in any way that I could. And so, without missing a beat, I picked up where he had left off, recounting the tale of the Forgotten Symphony with passion and fervor.

"It's a piece that tells the story of lost love and longing," I explained, my voice steady and sure. "A symphony left unfinished, a melody that echoes through the ages, reminding us of the power of love and the pain of loss." As I spoke, I could feel Elijah's eyes on me, his gaze softening with each word that fell from my lips. And when I finally finished, there was a moment of silence between us. 

And then, with a slight blush staining his cheeks, Elijah turned away, his mysterious demeanor returning in full force. But I could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between us in that fleeting moment. 

"Now I understand why, your professor was so eager for us to meet."

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[dreamerwitches]

Ahh magireco is gone now... it bought us a lot of good witches, especially with the introduction of doppels that just meant more witch content XD I know I dont talk about them often but I do also love the Uwasa and Kimochi. Their designs are all very good

I'm struggling to pick a fave witch... hm... there are so many good ones from the original 12. Maybe Shin or Candy?

My favourite anime witch is of course Ichizo because she's beautiful but I have a soft spot for Boxwood cause she's silly!!

My fave doppel is probably still Sylvie, Ikumi's. So spooky while still being adoooorable!