#palm springs gardens design

[unicefindia]

Mulch - Midcentury Landscape

Ideas for a sizable mid-century modern desert and a summertime formal mulch front yard garden.

[bookman-dgm]

Mulch Front Yard in Canberra - Queanbeyan An example of a large mid-century modern desert and full sun front yard mulch formal garden in summer.

[solliciiti]

Midcentury Landscape (Canberra - Queanbeyan)

[reasonsforhope]

"With “green corridors” that mimic the natural forest, the Colombian city is driving down temperatures — and could become five degrees cooler over the next few decades.

In the face of a rapidly heating planet, the City of Eternal Spring — nicknamed so thanks to its year-round temperate climate — has found a way to keep its cool.

Previously, Medellín had undergone years of rapid urban expansion, which led to a severe urban heat island effect — raising temperatures in the city to significantly higher than in the surrounding suburban and rural areas. Roads and other concrete infrastructure absorb and maintain the sun’s heat for much longer than green infrastructure.

“Medellín grew at the expense of green spaces and vegetation,” says Pilar Vargas, a forest engineer working for City Hall. “We built and built and built. There wasn’t a lot of thought about the impact on the climate. It became obvious that had to change.”

Efforts began in 2016 under Medellín’s then mayor, Federico Gutiérrez (who, after completing one term in 2019, was re-elected at the end of 2023). The city launched a new approach to its urban development — one that focused on people and plants.

The $16.3 million initiative led to the creation of 30 Green Corridors along the city’s roads and waterways, improving or producing more than 70 hectares of green space, which includes 20 kilometers of shaded routes with cycle lanes and pedestrian paths.

These plant and tree-filled spaces — which connect all sorts of green areas such as the curb strips, squares, parks, vertical gardens, sidewalks, and even some of the seven hills that surround the city — produce fresh, cooling air in the face of urban heat. The corridors are also designed to mimic a natural forest with levels of low, medium and high plants, including native and tropical plants, bamboo grasses and palm trees.

Heat-trapping infrastructure like metro stations and bridges has also been greened as part of the project and government buildings have been adorned with green roofs and vertical gardens to beat the heat. The first of those was installed at Medellín’s City Hall, where nearly 100,000 plants and 12 species span the 1,810 square meter surface.

“It’s like urban acupuncture,” says Paula Zapata, advisor for Medellín at C40 Cities, a global network of about 100 of the world’s leading mayors. “The city is making these small interventions that together act to make a big impact.”

At the launch of the project, 120,000 individual plants and 12,500 trees were added to roads and parks across the city. By 2021, the figure had reached 2.5 million plants and 880,000 trees. Each has been carefully chosen to maximize their impact.

“The technical team thought a lot about the species used. They selected endemic ones that have a functional use,” explains Zapata.

The 72 species of plants and trees selected provide food for wildlife, help biodiversity to spread and fight air pollution. A study, for example, identified Mangifera indica as the best among six plant species found in Medellín at absorbing PM2.5 pollution — particulate matter that can cause asthma, bronchitis and heart disease — and surviving in polluted areas due to its “biochemical and biological mechanisms.”

And the urban planting continues to this day.

The groundwork is carried out by 150 citizen-gardeners like Pineda, who come from disadvantaged and minority backgrounds, with the support of 15 specialized forest engineers. Pineda is now the leader of a team of seven other gardeners who attend to corridors all across the city, shifting depending on the current priorities...

“I’m completely in favor of the corridors,” says [Victoria Perez, another citizen-gardener], who grew up in a poor suburb in the city of 2.5 million people. “It really improves the quality of life here.”

Wilmar Jesus, a 48-year-old Afro-Colombian farmer on his first day of the job, is pleased about the project’s possibilities for his own future. “I want to learn more and become better,” he says. “This gives me the opportunity to advance myself.”

The project’s wider impacts are like a breath of fresh air. Medellín’s temperatures fell by 2°C in the first three years of the program, and officials expect a further decrease of 4 to 5C over the next few decades, even taking into account climate change. In turn, City Hall says this will minimize the need for energy-intensive air conditioning...

In addition, the project has had a significant impact on air pollution. Between 2016 and 2019, the level of PM2.5 fell significantly, and in turn the city’s morbidity rate from acute respiratory infections decreased from 159.8 to 95.3 per 1,000 people [Note: That means the city's rate of people getting sick with lung/throat/respiratory infections.]

There’s also been a 34.6 percent rise in cycling in the city, likely due to the new bike paths built for the project, and biodiversity studies show that wildlife is coming back — one sample of five Green Corridors identified 30 different species of butterfly.

Other cities are already taking note. Bogotá and Barranquilla have adopted similar plans, among other Colombian cities, and last year São Paulo, Brazil, the largest city in South America, began expanding its corridors after launching them in 2022.

“For sure, Green Corridors could work in many other places,” says Zapata."

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, March 4, 2024

[louweetomlinson]

Landscape - Midcentury Landscape

[pricetagged]

The usual from me, I'm afraid. I'm back at my nonsense, typing up wife-hunter John while I take a break from tidying my apartment (: Here's part iii! (there will be more reader/john in part iv )

Masterlist l Previous

Content: More stalking, manipulation, voyeurism & marital sabotage. John's a bad man and I want him viscerally <3

----------------------

It tears at him, rends flesh from bone with sharp little teeth. Corrugated. Rusty. It poisons his bloodstream, boils blood to madness and burns to feverish pitch.

It's a trap of his own design, and he just had to poke at it. He set it up, jaw wrenched wide and trigger taut and, god, he had to touch it. Had to feel the bruising pleasure bloom then give to something sharper. Sweeter.

In his more reflective moments he wonders if setting up the cameras was a good idea. He's a possessive old bastard and he's torn; not because of any hand-wringing morals, no. No, but rather that he's left himself licking along the knife's edge, close enough for it to cut if he presses hard. He can touch it. It's in his grasp, but he's not fully confident that he's the only one wielding it.

There are too many variables still.

And it's left him here, testing the pressure of the razor-sharp rim and wanting to dig deeper. (He fisted at himself harder than usual that night, flesh aching and engorged and throbbing as the cold metal of your wedding ring bit at the veins and ridges of his length).

The screen is his most hated ally. Pixels and light; the blue sheen. The static blur that raises the hair on his arms as he caresses your image. It's the sweetest torture, watching you boxed in by the four corners of a machine. Gazing on only the impression of you, shadowy and reflective, pacing the monitor. It's peiskos, but wrong. He has you in his home, but can only see and touch you in artificial impotence. It drives him wild, makes his throat ache and his head hot watching you, but not knowing how you taste.

That's not him, he thinks, having something that he can't fully possess. Even the bottle of 1926 Macallan locked in his cellaret has been cracked open, rolled around the palate and savoured before returned to the shelf. Locked safe behind glass, yes, but within reach.

He has to see you again. The trap is tightening, and isn't it funny that it's caught him too?

(His hand moved faster, pleasure simmering as he watched your wide eyes turn glossy and your voice grow thick. 'I don't know where it went! It must have fallen off in the garden, I swear!' Even being unable to taste it, to lick at your tears and feel you tremble-

-it had him tensing his thighs, body clenching in anger and heat as he listened to your apologies. As he listened to your pathetic, half-hearted moans. The way you gave in so sweetly, so eager to please and make good. Your husband's disgusting, breathy grunting. Weak. Unsatisfying-

-But it had his palm tightening around the tacky, swollen flesh at his tip. Slit leaking as the rage boiled his blood and sent it south in a paroxysm of rapture).

He sees Buck before he sees you. It's a necessary evil. No, that's not quite right. It's inevitable; it's reasonable. He needs to lay the bait, shuffle the leaves over it and let nature take its course.

It's a classic pub. A real boozer, where the floor is always slickly sticky and the walls are a cheery, tobacco-stained yellow. The kind of place that serves only pork scratchings and pints.

Your husband didn't expect to see him there. Fox in the henhouse, only he's too stupid to realise that he's the bird.

"System is running well, mate! Thanks. This round's on me," he claps at John's shoulder and does admirably well at hiding his nerves.

It has him smiling into the pint glass, schadenfreude as your husband subtly stretches his aching palm and paints on a wary smile.

(Foot hovering just above the spring; steel teeth ready to -)

"You here alone?" John sips at his drink, eyes scanning the dingy room until - yes, there in the corner he sees a familiar Union Jack cap. Good lad.

"No, no. My mates have just left. Like to linger, you know, for the company," he sends a wink to some pretty thing nursing a G&T by the window.

"Not enough company at home?" he tries to make it light, hoping that the gravel in his tone could be mistaken for interest. And it is, really, if prey drive could count as mere 'interest'.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in a way that looks a lot like rolling belly-up. 'Tell me I'm a real man, look at me! I've got the pick of the flock'. "You know how it is. Gets boring, fishing in the same hole all the time, eh?"

"I wouldn't know," he hums, eyebrows drawn low in faux-consideration. Meets him dead in the eye, lets the mask drop for a just a second. Let's the words come out flat and dangerous. "I've never had a problem reeling in what I want."

The words linger, settling heavy and awkward in a way that has him licking his teeth. Tension so thick he can chew it, feel the fat and gristle rend under the strength of his jaw. It's heady watching the way your husband flounders, not sure how to react until the pack leader backs up and loosens the canines at his nape. Lets him breathe. It's a joke, really. Go on. Laugh. And he follows suit so easily. It's almost boring, he thinks, with eyes cold and muscles frozen under his fake smile as he watches the man chuckle.

"You've gotta stay, Price, that's a good one. One more drink, c'mon." Funny. He thinks that it's his right to give orders. He thinks that John's staying at his command.

John taps twice at the foamy rim of the glass. Catches his sergeant's eye from across the room. "Sure, why not."

It's time.

It's masterful, really, how well Gaz slips over. Greets Buck like an old friend. Drops hints and in-jokes that have the man chuckling along as his eyes flit about with confusion.

"Can't believe I've run into you, here. I thought I'd seen the last of you when you moved house, what, a year ago?" Kyle slides into the barstool on the left. Boxes him in, piggy in the middle. "Still with that finance company?"

"Yeah, yeah it's been a while," he trails off. Too proud to admit that he doesn't know Gaz. Has never met the man. John can feel the way his eyes keep flicking towards the side of his face. Needy. Histrionic.

"You lads catch up, have fun. I'm away for the night," he sets the empty glass at the bar with a soft thud. Makes a show of introducing himself to Gaz and waving the two of them off.

In the cool air of the smoking area he has a moment of fika. Cars roll by on a distant road. The muffled sound of laughter and murmuring filters through frosted pub windows. The rich, heavy smoke of his cigar swirls around and around until he's closing his eyes in the haze. It's slow, calming, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the hand that he's about to play.

He thumbs over the smudged screen of your husband's phone. Only 2 missed calls and 1 text.

>>Sorry to go on at you, but you said you were finishing work at 5 today. It's nearly 8 now. Can you at least let me know where you are? We were going to start that series tonight and I've been getting worried waiting for you :/

Poor, sweet thing. Polite, too. All love and care wasted on the pathetic, juvenile lump slumped over the bar right now. 

(It whets his appetite, seeing how well-trained you are. How you toe the line, defer to the farcical rules set out for you in your relationship. 'Stay at home. Don't blow up my phone.'

Would you come to heel for him? If a weak, useless hand could shape you so well, what could a strong one do?)

<< Sorry, baby. I goty caugtht up at the pub w some friends. HAd a few drInks. Cmome and get me? [LOCATION SHARED]

He flicks the stub of the cigar away as he pockets the phone.

Curtains up; show about to begin.

He settles into his seat, a well-worn booth. Threadbare, stained upholstery and faded coasters. It's shadowy here, tucked away in the corner but offering a perfect line of sight to the door. And right by that very door is Gaz, your husband, and the pretty thing from earlier.

The bell jingles; wind whistles in.

Gaz lets his grip slip, lets your husband slump in the seat until his head is resting against the neck of the woman he was chatting up. Fingers inching up her thighs as she laughs and flirts back.

"What..?" it's too noisy in here to hear you, but he's listened to your voice over and over. He knows just how your pitch is rising. The slight crack on the final consonant.

You stand, face screwed up as you try to make sense of the situation. But two plus two can only ever equal four, and your husband's hands up a skirt can only ever equal- 

"Hi, gorgeous. Here to meet someone?" his sergeant grins up at you. Plays the charmer so well. "Got an empty seat with us, if you fancy it."

There's a little bitterness cutting at the furl of your lips. You're holding it in so well but, god, the words must burn, coming out like bile. "What, sure that I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, no. He said he's just having a little fun. Said he wants something warm before he goes home to his bitch wife," Gaz chuckles, leaning towards you like he wants to whisper a secret. "Bit sick of hearing his complaining, if I'm honest. Makes her sound like a right harpy. But you could take my mind off it."

"Not sure about that," he sees the way your chest hitches. Sees the sob that you swallow down as you steel your expression. "I am the 'bitch wife'."

And it's magnificent. Kyle's played his part so well; stuck to the script like he's performing at The Globe. An ad-lib here, an improvisation there. He hands you a napkin, rubs at your shoulder as he looms over the treacherous tableau he fashioned for an audience of two. You, and John. Ache and Hunger; betrayal and mastery. He maneuvers you, keeps you from causing a bigger scene as he hauls your husband by the scruff of his jacket. Choreographs the steps so that John can see every last microcosm on the universe of your face.

It's his set, his design. He's the architect, director, and audience all in one.

(And that foolish, stupid player of yours tugged at the lure. Found himself swinging, tied up in the string).

--------------------------

Ik reader wasn't really present here, but had to get the ball rolling (: Also I've been stressed and not sleeping so forgive me for this being a bit...

And yes. John stood there and put all the typos in that message on purpose. Unhinged.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Welcome to Villa Del Leone, designed by Robert Marx in 1962, the son of Gummo Marx, (I've heard of the Marx Bros., but never Gummo- who the hell is Gummo?), of the famed Marx Brothers, in Palm Springs, CA. You can tell that the son of old Hollywood money lives here b/c of the cool stuff inside. The Hollywood Regency style home has 4bds, 3ba, & is listed for $4.995M. Since we can't afford it, let's look at it for inspirational purposes.

This is an odd way to design an entrance hall, but it seems meant to be a gallery, judging by the spotlights and photos on the walls.

Movie memorabilia.

A framed Paramount Studios logo has the place of honor on the fireplace. Love the pink sofas and the huge classic John Lennon portrait. Funky sign in front of the fireplace, too.

That's unusual, a huge poster hung sideways.

Cool English themed sitting room decorated with real motorcycles.

This serves as a dining room/library. Beautifully done, the purple carpet really makes it pop.

The kitchen's wild quartz counters would make the HGTV designers clutch their throats gasping in horror.

Elegantly dated bedroom has sliders to the pool.

The all-white en-suite has Grecian columns.

And, look at the vast closet. The clothing looks as bright and colorful as the decor.

Nice secondary bedroom. Very calming colors and I'm a toile fan.

Looks like a woman's office.

I wonder if that's an original Beatles drum set. Beautiful guitar collection display wall.

Outside, a the lovely pool. I love the zebra.

This is very nice. So manicured. I like a more natural looking garden.

Very cheerful home and it looks so inviting warmly lit up at night.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/466-Camino-Sur-Palm-Springs-CA-92262/18023638_zpid/

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 1

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU Hancock x Female Sole Survivor (Nora) Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

\\

[ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

\\

Hancock took a steady pull of his cigarette. Perched on the rotting sill of his open office window located in Boston’s State House, he relaxed into the gentle chill of an early spring evening. Goodneighbor had gone quiet some hours ago. He would be concerned if the town’s uncharacteristic early evening if it wasn’t so pleasant. Goodneighbor going to sleep was a rarity, and he chose to enjoy the downtime with several cigarettes and a couple canisters of jet as he attempted to master the art of blowing smoke rings. He would ultimately discover, after smoking through nearly entire pack of cigarettes, that it was a feat that required an embouchure that he didn’t have the lips for — or he was too fucking stoned to do it right.

Flicking the still smoldering butt out into the night, Hancock returned to one of the two limp couches in his designated office space, and flopped down. He reached for the mentats tin on the rubbish-covered coffee table. Why not end the night on a high note?

Hancock snickered to himself, amused at his own drug addled thoughts, “On’a high note.” Because he was high. Ha-ha.

He fumbled with the old tin, eventually managing to lodge the blunt end of his thumbnail into the lip of the lid. The little tin box opened with a satisfying pop. He placed one of the white tablets on his tongue. It immediately began to dissolve, coating his tongue in chalky grit. When he eventually swallowed he was already feeling pleasantly fuzzy. The tingling was in his toes, his fingers. It danced along his teeth and the grooves of his brain. The ghoul sank further into the couch, glossy black eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth ajar as his thoughts stumbled from one to the next. He thought about starting a community garden; it would be tucked away from the main thoroughfare but still sizable. He remembered and clung to an old poem from an old book he had stashed away in his desk. He pondered the essence of the whole fucking cosmos. Or perhaps not, actually. He was blitzed and keeping his thoughts in line was becoming more, and more difficult.

When he started to hear whispers he thought nothing of it. On a livelier night he would have assumed that it was regular ol’ street noise. In the uncharacteristic silence of the night he figured it was a hallucination. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d experienced visual and auditory hallucinations before. They weren’t typically triggered by mere mentats, mind you, but it had been a long and drug-fueled day and he was content with riding the wave until he crashed.

The whispers belonged to one person. It started as a weak, warbling, like he was hearing someone talk from behind a closed door. Then the voice abruptly grew in volume; suddenly shrill, like he was standing next to a woman as she screamed for all she was worth. 

“Nate! No, Nate, please! Honey, please wake up!”

The ghoul’s brows furrowed. The voice was frantic, desperate as she cried for help.  Phantom hands — smooth, delicate, small — swam in and out of his vision. They moved in front of him as if they were his. The vision ebbed when he tried to divert his attention; it went beyond superimposition when he focused on it. Hancock could feel the sensation of the blood stained Vault-tec jumpsuit chafe under his palms as smooth hands gripped and pulled at the material. He was peering up at the face of a dead man, his body heavy and limp, slumped in some sort of pod that reminded him of Goodneighor’s Memory Den. 

“Nate! Please — please don’t do this! NATHAN!”

He’s dead. He’s gone. Fuck, if his heart wasn’t breaking. It was shattering into millions of pieces, leaving him more numb and empty than he had ever felt. And goddamn, it felt fucking real. As real as the jumpsuit under his palms, as real as the chill that had sank into his bones, as real as the couch he still lounged in. 

A sudden hand on his arm made his body jolt. The vision of the dead man was abruptly ripped from him and in its place was Fahrenheit’s stern face. She was blurry, swimming in a lake of wavering tears. He was crying. Fuck, he was sobbing. His shoulders heaved, his lungs hungrily taking in air in short, frantic gulps. For all of a moment, Fahrenheit looked on the brink of amusement. Her right eyebrow was curled upward and the corner of her mouth was lifting into a smirk as she readied to deliver some snide remark, but then her expression changed. The almost-smirk vanished, the haughty brow lowered, and then a look of awe lit her features. Hancock sniffled, the tears that had been cascading down his ruined cheeks came to an abrupt stop as if the well had run dry. The ache in his chest was gone. So was the dead man in the pod. So was the frantic, begging, voice. He blinked. He took one more big gasp for air to steady himself but it was shaky. He was shaking.

“S-sorry,” he rasped. His voice was weak and frail at the edges. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was, uh— that—”

Though he wanted to blame it all on the chems, he knew that that wasn’t the case. That was something else. Something he never thought he would experience in all of his lifetime. For some goddamn reason, the Powers That Be decided to gift Hancock with a soulmate. He was shocked. He was elated.

Fahrenheit’s voice was barely audible when she said, “You found them.”

“It’s a woman.”

“What does she look like? What’s her name? Where is she?” 

Soulmates were a rarity these days, because that’s what happened when nuclear bombs fell and annihilated the majority of the world's population. Fahrenheit was still missing her signature scowl. It made him uncomfortable. Hancock shook his head, reaching for his smokes that were in the breast pocket of his coat — anything to stop the shaking of his hands.

“I dunno. It’s exactly how they say. Y'see through their eyes. All I saw was her hands. And I heard her voice.”

“Whose Nate?” When Hancock glanced at Fahrenheit she added, “You were saying his name.”

There was no way for Hancock to know who Nate was, and yet he did. Hancock knew exactly who Nate was. Nate was his soulmate’s dead husband. Hancock swore, chucking the pack of cigarettes to the floor in a fit of irritation. So much for that high he had been riding. Coming out of the vision, he felt debilitatingly sober. Leave it to the universe to give him one of the best gifts anyone could ever receive, and then somehow make it completely awful.

Fuck you, too, universe. Fuck. You. Too.

[almondmilkcleanser]

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐇. 𝟑

𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋. You're a fox youkai who's just been betrothed to be married to this anonymous demon. But is he really that anonymous? He looks.. familiar.

✥ ` ■ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. f!reader x sesshomaru ✥ ` ■ 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. Arranged marriage; opposites attract; ✥ ` ■ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. my perfectionism don't like det. ✥ ` ■ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈��𝐆 𝐓𝐎. Teresa - moments x where roses bloom ✥ ` ■* 𝐀/𝐍. — Happy holidays <3 Leave a comment to be added to the update list! ✥ ` ■ 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐈 - @hisokaswaifu32 all-the-thngz-i-nvr-said traumatizedgirly meontheblock002 tcapter luv-for-fictional-characters rlurvey obsessedalpaca bontensbabygirl bunniotomia

“Explain this “arrangement” to me right now!” the castle consorts hid their faces in their palm. Your brash mannerisms were nothing new. They were encouraged even by your father despite your mother’s attempt at teaching you to be a studious, demure, quiet lady. 

“Oh, Y/N. This arrangement was long arranged since before you were born. You see, Sesshomaru’s father, the great Inu Taisho-” Sesshomaru nodded his head slightly at your father, giving him the OK to continue. 

“Him and I would meet during the seasons. “Oh, my daughter!” your father clapped his hands together. A triumphant smile plastered across his face. You stood next to Sesshomaru, your face flustered, grimacing and grumbling under your breath.

“Daddy! Explain the meaning of this!” you stomped your feet against the wisteria covered steps. Your father met the two of you outside of the castle gates inside the garden. Speckles of violets and morning glories danced in the air around the two of you; bright pigments of lavender, green, sage and yellow in preparation for the spring. It was going to be a beautiful spring according to the season oracle. But none of that mattered right now-

And its through his skilled knowledge of the land that we were able to expand our kingdom into such a beautiful creation that it is today. No war. No famine. Our kingdom has been designated to aide in a kingdom’s beautification from near and far. Sesshomaru was but a child then, but we agreed that if and when i have a daughter, she would be his bride. 

“Well, what if I don’t want to be his bride!” you protested, glaring at him from the side of your eye. Sesshomaru returned your stare with a his own. Letting off a short chuckle as he looked away.

“You see, daddy! He doesn’t even want to proceed with the arrangement. And besides, he’s too soft-looking. You said it yourself that my husband needs to be a warrior!”

“Y/N, don’t be so crude, sweetheart.” your mother looked over at Sesshomaru apologetically. His expression remained neutral. “You can’t outwardly judge someone so harsh-”

“I’m assuming you’re going to blindly negate from the fact that I saved you from that large demon outside in the fields.” your father’s eyebrows shot up. “Your life was nearly over if I didn’t find you when I di-”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” you huffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. “I would have figured out a way to take him down.”

“With a measly hand blade? I would have enjoyed watching that happen.”

“Tsk! Daddy!”

Your father pressed his fingers on both sides of his nose. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy 1-2 process. 

“How’s this. Get to know him till the end of summer. By the time the last hydrangeas fall to the ground to welcome the winter and you still have your apprehensions, we will cancel the arrangement. And in exchange, I will let you choose whether to stay or go. Whichever you

decide.”

Your face softened. Your father must have really respected this Inu Taisho person. With a brattish glance at Sesshomaru, you took a deep breath and dropped your arms.

“Fine. But if this doesn’t work. I want that jade necklace you promised me and 2 horses for myself.” you walked off to the right towards your chambers, leaving your handmaidens no choice but to follow you.

“And he’s not staying in my room!” was the last thing you said before disappearing into the distance.

Your father looked at Sesshomaru with the deepest, most silent apology. “I promise you she’s not normally like this..”

Sesshomaru grunted in response. “If its alright with you I’ll take my stay outside of the castle. I suspect if that one demon was so close its best I linger around for a little while longer.”

“Ah! Yes! A-are there any other acquaintances of yours that we should accomoda-”

“Lord Sesshomaruuuuuuu! Wait for me!!!!!” Sesshomaru’s face showed its first expression this whole time; annoyance. A small green creature with buggy eyes and a large stick sprinted through the garden, his breath ragged and fumbled.

“Ah! My Lord! You ran away so suddenly and I- Hm? What is this place?” the creature looked around frantically, his eyes both in wonder but also in.. permanent worry?

“This is my wife’s kingdom, Jaken.”

“Your wife.” Jaken repeated. He looked around at your father and mother, the servants, and the flowers until it hit him,

“Your wife!?”

“This simply has to be a mistake. No women is worthy enough of the Great Lord Sesshomaru! Just what kind of bribery must have- OOF!” In a blink, Jaken’s face was to the floor with a large knot to his head. Sesshomaru pivoted on his heel, walking out of the castle, leaving Jaken on the floor to catch up to him.. Eventually. 

—

“Y/N! Are you crazy! You have to marry him. Do you not see him? He’s incredibly handsome.”

You crossed your arms, eyes darting bullets at your friend, Saya. Saya put her hands to her cheeks, her bright brown eyes glimmering at the inert fantasy playing in her head.

“To have such a strong demon under your arm and bear his children must be a dream come true!”

“Not for me! I don’t even know this man. He could be an absolute psycho.”

“Or a dream!” your other friend, Miko, piped up alongside Saya. You could see the soft envy in their eyes, but it wasn’t harmful. Your own friends didn’t even understand why you were so apprehensive. 

“I don’t know…” Miko sighed, rubbing her temples. “I just feel like I’m still young. Still wanting to explore the world. Or-”

“Still wanting to pickle yourself for that fool Hachiko. I’m telling you, Y/N. You’re going to get yourself hurt all over again and this time its going to stick.” Saya looked at you and Miko, who you felt was more of an older sister type of friend, with curious eyes.

“Who’s Hachiko?” Saya asked.

“Oh he’s some soldier in training in the neighboring kingdom that Y/N is head over heels about. But he’s just a peasant boy, no grounds for a pri-”

“Peasant boy or not, I love him. And no Sesshomaru is going to stand between us.” You stood to your feet to escape back into the garden.

“Y/N.” Miko piped up, her eyebrows scrunched in concern. “Just- think it over. Opportunities like this don’t come around often for women like us.”

You looked back, your mouth pressed together. Without saying much else, you walked out of your room, into your personal garden.

[mybeingthere]

Vintage DODIE THAYER 1926, Lettuce Ware

Known as the "Pottery Queen of Palm Beach" Dodie Thayer's lettuce ceramics are old quinessential Palm Beach and most notably her beautiful lettuce soup tureen was considered a status symbol. In Palm Beach Society, from the 1960's-80's, her cabbage and lettuce ware was all the rage.

Each leaf's vein was carefully shaped by her own hands, cast at her own home studio. During this time, Thayer's work could not only be seen throughout the pages of House Beautiful, House & Garden, Architectural Digest, Gourmet and Bon Apetit, but in the personal collections of ladies of status such as Jackie O. Her work was never mass marketed and to this day collectors still flock when her items are found in an antique store or estate sale. But things are about to change. Tory Burch is an American fashion designer, business woman, and philanthropist, who has won several fashion awards for her designs. After purchasing a vast collection from interior designer Todd Romano, Burch struck up a friendship with Thayer that blossomed into a collaboration. For the first time in her life, Thayer authorized reproductions, allowing Burch to replant the seeds of obsession with an updated line of vegetable ceramics, out this spring in stores and on ToryBurch.com. Prices range from $88 for a set of four canapé plates to $158 for a quartet of salad plates. May Thayer's collection continue to touch the next generation.

[unicefindia]

Midcentury Landscape Canberra - Queanbeyan Photo of a large mid-century modern rock and full sun front yard gravel formal garden in summer.

[tswaney17]

A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You - Part 2

Part 2 of this random collection, inspired by @duskwhisperer's commissioned art, here! 🌸 Happy @elainarcheronweek all. 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: None

Word Count: 1,013

Read on AO3. Snippet below.

Elain was knee-deep in the garden, planting bulbs that would bloom in late spring or early summer. Her adorable little nephew sitting next to her on his plump butt, “helpfully” digging in the mulch for her.

“Weady for you, Auntie Lain!” Nyx shouted, flinging dirt into the air and showering his lap. They were working on the section of her garden she specifically designated to the Night Court’s heir. He loved coming over and playing with her gardening tools, getting his hands dirty. If he wasn’t caked in paint with his mother, he was covered in dirt with his aunt.

“Great job, little one. Can you put this bulb in the hole and then cover it back up?” she asked, placing the seedling into his mud-caked palms.

Ever the good listener, he followed her instructions perfectly, patting the soft ground to “tuck the seed in.”  

“Very good, sweetheart,” she told him with a bright smile.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

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[orii-blogs-stuff]

Like everything else, Death looked very pretty on Georgine.

Detlinde watched the procession with a frown, indeed, her mother was dead, yet she felt nothing for her. No sobbing daintily into her handkerchief like her elder sister Alstred. Not a single tear rolled down her cheek unlike her elder brother Wolfram, she was simply stoic, her translucent veil covering her yawn of boredom. An on-looker paying close attention to Detlinde’s facial expressions may have mistaken her as an Archduke Candidate not of Georgine’s blood, but Detlinde would correct them. 

Despite her mother never paying attention to her and always spent every moment she could relax, talking to Wolfram or on the rare occasions, Alstred, despite Detlinde focusing her attention to better herself at the harspeil, learning manners, painting, singing, sewing, designing her own dresses and hair styles to start as trends she may pass down her knowledge to her… Less fortunate peers … At the Royal Academy when she reaches the age of ten.. Her mother still stood at her Baptism ceremony so Georgine must be her mother. 

However, her mother would call her harspiel performance at her Baptism mediocre , her manners inferior to her mother’s own when her mother was her age, her singing out of tune and her designs? Ghastly . Detlinde was unsure what ghastly meant; however the fact that her mother ordered to never sing without the drowning sound of a harspeil or to make up her own designs, Detlinde knew Ghastly must have some negative connotations.   

All she wanted to do today was to play tea parties with her dolls! But she couldn’t because her mother fell down the stairs and died.

Detlinde watched Georgine’s body lay peacefully in her casket, her face etched with bruises and a deep red wound on her forehead, it had been a few hours since the funeral procession had started, her makeup had faded since, her cause of death showing glaringly red, for the entire world to see.

Detlinde looked lower, at the sword of Ewigeliebe sunken into her mother’s heart, it had been there ever since the beginning of the funeral, collecting the mana in her mother’s body.

“May Lady Georgine find peace in the Garden of Beginnings and be greeted by the Gods, with open arms.” The Head Priest took out the sword, Detlinde watched as the mana seemed to clump around the sword, the Head Priest removed the mana and shaped it into a feystone the size of his palm before it fully hardened.

And then. He took her away.

Detlinde knew she wouldn’t be allowed to go to the Archduke Conference in the coming Spring to see the Whirlers bid mother a final goodbye, so this was Detlinde’s time to give her final goodbye to her mother.

However, she couldn’t care less. Seeing the feystone being taken away for safe keepings, seeing the remaining husk that used to contain her mother’s feystone be burnt away. She felt an oddly freeing sensation bloom in her heart, like a flower design she would stitch onto her practice cloth which her mother would throw away and make to restart the process again.

It also made her feel angry, like she missed some sort of opportunity to show her mother how spectacular she could be, to show her mother that there were others out there who loved her dresses and hairstyles Detlinde loved to make and Georgine would hate so much. To show that people of Ahrensbach loved her enough to make her their Aub.

A missed opportunity.

Detlinde felt tears well up, it wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair! How dare mother die like this?! By falling down the stairs?! How dare she?! How dare she not stay and watch Detlinde flourish at the academy like she did with Wolfram and Alstede?! How dare she not be there when Detlinde would get First-in-Class and not congratulate her?

Sniff Sniff!

How dare mother not give her any good memories of them together so she could think back to those for comfort instead of grieving over a fantasy?

Detlinde poised herself and walked out with her attendants, the funeral was done, now she could finally go back to her tea party.

[deardjarin]

one hundred miles

oberyn martell x f!reader

oberyn comes home.

words: 732

rating: mature

a/n: i am reentering my game of thrones era.

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

You find yourself walking the length of the Water Gardens whenever Oberyn is away.

Despite living amongst Oberyn’s family and the House’s many advisors, the palace feels empty without your husband. You despise waking up to an empty bed, only able to imagine the touch of your partner. Everything is too big—too grandiose—for just you. But you understand that it’s his duty, even though you wish it wasn’t.

The sun beats down on your skin as you stroll through the gardens. You don’t mind it, though, as the orange fabric of your dress is thin enough to relieve you of the heat. Occasionally, a slight breeze rustles the leaves of the towering palm trees.

You’re studying the colorful fish in one of the ponds when you hear light footsteps. One of the palace assistants, a young man who Oberyn is quite fond of, approaches you.

“My Lady?” He asks, a bit breathless. You smile, turning away from the shallow pond.

“Yes?”

“Prince Oberyn has given us orders to prepare a bath for you. His Highness wants you to soak for as long as you’d like, and-“ He hesitates, cheeks red from embarrassment. “He’d like you to forgo clothing for his arrival.

His request isn’t what surprises you: it’s his return.

“He’s coming home today?” You ask, taken aback.

“Yes, your highness. Prince Oberyn left King’s Landing a few weeks ago. He said you’d pull out your hair from waiting if we told you.”

You curse softly; your husband knows you too well.

“Thank you,” You tell the boy, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist.

Later, the heat of the bath is a welcome sensation, relaxing your tired body. Rose petals float atop the water, filling the room with a floral scent. You take your time washing each part of your body, massaging deep into your skin.

Suddenly, the double doors to your bedroom open.

You cover your bare chest with your hands, prepared to shoo the unwelcome visitor away. But, instead of a nosy guard, your dashing partner emerges from the hall.

“Oberyn?” You squeak in surprise, watching the doors swing closed behind him.

He smiles, and you’re sure it’s the happiest he’s been in weeks. He’s draped in the robe he always wears, adorned with intricate gold designs and tied at the waist. There’s a tension hanging in the air, thick like fog on an early spring day.

“Hello, my dear,” He greets, slowly crossing the length of the bedroom. You drop your arms back into the water, leaning against the edge of the basin.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be home so soon,” You tell him. “I actually had no idea when you’d be returning, because you never told me.”

Oberyn chuckles softly, avoiding your gaze by studying a bottle of wine from the year 285. He always keeps a bottle and two glasses on the vanity, which are perched on an ornate gold plate.

“I never know how long these trips will last,” He says, a bit defensively.

“I’m not mad at you, Oberyn,” You say softly. He meets your gaze, expression soft. “I know you were gone for a good reason. I will be mad, however, if I do not get a kiss in the next few moments.”

Your lover grins, approaching the side of your wash basin in a few wide strides. He lowers himself onto his knees in order to be face-to-face with you, as the wooden basin is quite low to the ground.

Oberyn Martell kneels for no one but you.

“My beautiful wife,” He murmurs, cupping your face in his large hands. His wedding band is cool against your warm cheek. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Oberyn kisses you gently, relishing in the first contact you’ve had in weeks. You lean into the kiss, but refrain from grasping onto his hair. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling away, much to your disappointment. Silently, Oberyn undoes the tie around his waist, dropping his robe to the floor and leaving him in his sleeveless tunic. He reaches into the water, grasping your arm and pulling it to the surface. He lowers his lips to your wet skin, kissing down the length of your arm.

“Oberyn…” You say softly as he kisses your wrist, gazing up at you, his pupils wide.

“Dry off, my love,” He murmurs. “I am going to ravish you.”

[sims-realty]

welcome to desert springs, the newest and most premiere lot in beautiful oasis springs. with its iconic butterfly roof and exquisite landscaping, the exterior of the home immediately catches your eye. enjoy the incredible mature cactus and succulent garden in the front yard that provides a natural barrier between your expansive front porch and pool entertainment area, with vintage pink terracotta tiles salvaged from a local home original to the area prior to its demolition on a lot nearby. a landscaped palm oasis welcomes you to the expansive backyard that separates the main house from the greenhouse. because of its humidity control, the greenhouse makes an excellent home for all of your exotic plants and gardening hobbies while also providing space for an office or art studio.

just inside the custom glass doors and windows, you'll be blown away by the custom built-in cabinet that separates the curated entryway (lit by a a truly unique - confirmed one-of-a-kind - chandelier) from the large living room designed for gatherings. the 360-degree fireplace anchors the living room and provides heat to the entire house on those chilly 55-degree desert evenings. custom accordion glass doors separate the living room and kitchen that also features the salvaged pink terracotta tiles. a handmade dining table gifted to the home's original owner by the artist natsukashii herself comes with the home and is highlighted by the second of the home's bespoke lighting fixtures. one thing this home doesn't lack is natural sunlight. from your kitchen enjoy the most beautiful view of your backyard oasis, filled with lavender bushes, cacti and palm trees.

this home features two bedrooms and one bathroom, recently remodeled. the guest bedroom features a cozy sitting area perfect for the bookworm in your family, without lacking adequate closet space. custom bed and shelving seamlessly flow together, making this bedroom an aesthetic retreat.

when you walk through the door adjacent to the guest bedroom, you'll take in the walk-through closet which opens to an expansive primary bedroom featuring a lounge area, natsukashii custom bed and living shelving. the primary bed looks out onto the back patio and a break in the sleek concrete and wood fence surrounding the property allows for uninterrupted south-facing mountain views. living shelving moves out from the primary bedroom onto the patio as well, ensuring that you're never far from green in this home.

desert springs is open for showings now, but don't delay because this gem won't be on the market for long. make this home your oasis in oasis springs.

cc used:

SYB: Fency, Astrid, Nathalie, Dreamy, Julie, Maya, Natsukashii, Laundry, Millenial, Pauline, Sabine, Manon, Diane, Cecile, Nothing to Wear, Agnes, Brigitte, Sophie, Elodie, Rosalie, Oceane, How About Tea

SIMcredible: Advent Calendar 2022, Vocatio, Agreste, Veranda, Amazonica, Emblema, Naturalis, Green Time, Pomeriggio, ScandiFever, TV Corner, Nuance, Coastal Plants, Bontempo, Bossa Nova, Calligaris, Zara, Keep Life Simple, Morning Tea, Ofuro, Breezy, MinimaliSIM, Clarity, Modernism, Chlorophyll, Mix It

Soloriya: Winnie

MincSims: Tara, Basset

Siomi's: Vault Avalon House II

Simsova: Plants, Plant Stands

Lapanemona: HEX

Comiko: Boho, Book Nook Zodiac

[asirensrambles]

lost in your embrace

Flufftober Day 6: Sdv Alex/female farmer Corn Maze

Senna and Alex have a quiet moment together at Stardew Valley's first ever Spirit's Eve corn maze and bazaar.

@flufftober

Laughter and shrieks of glee echoed across the expansive field. Senna hadn't been able to wipe the proud smile of her face all day, to the point her cheeks hurt. Strong, warm arms wrapped around her middle as Alex rested his head on her shoulder. Senna was thrilled beyond belief that her husband's gridball team's bye week coincided with the week of the Spirit's Eve Festival. The days had been spent alternating between prepping the farm for its first ever corn maze and local bazaar, and enjoying each other's company.

During the season, Senna missed Alex terribly, but it made their springs and summers even sweeter. Farm work helped him stay in shape during the off season, and the extra income meant she could hire help for the busy fall harvest season. Besides, gridball wasn't something Alex could do indefinitely; one day they'd have the whole year together. Her husband pulled Senna out of her musings.

"Ever think something like this would happen when you first moved here?"

Senna chuckled, and shook her head. Sinking further against Alex, she brought her hands up and placed them on top of his. "I could barely imagine clearing enough space for a garden to keep me fed, let alone sell anything. Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine anything on this level." Knowing she couldn't reach his chin, Senna turned to press a kiss to the bicep next to her head, and squeezed Alex's hands. "I would never have thought of planting a corn maze without you."

The arms around her tightened ever so slightly. "I'd never thought of including a local bazaar to take advantage of the tourists for all the local businesses."

"Well it's a good thing we're a team, then," Senna said softly.

Behind her, Alex shuddered ever so slightly. Frowning, she twisted to look at her husband. To Senna's horror, tears were starting to make their way down his cheeks. "Oh, my love, what's wrong?"

Alex shook his head and gave her a watery smile. "Nothing's wrong, I'm just-" He took a deep breath, as Senna wrapped her arms around him. "Back when you first moved into the valley, then I never could've imagined my life would turn out this good. Didn't think it could ever turn out this good."

"Oh Alex," Senna whispered, raising a hand to wipe away his tears. Before she could, Alex caught it and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Every day, I thank Yoba I met you."

Not trusting herself to speak, Senna raised up onto her tiptoes to kiss her husband. She tried to pour all the love and affection she felt for Alex into the kiss, hoping he could understand what she couldn't say. By the way he returned the kiss, she knew he did. They pulled apart, but Alex rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Senna Mulner."

"And I love you, Alex Mulner."

The moment was broken as Dusty came galloping up the stairs, Potato hot on his heels. The dogs stopped just shy of colliding with the couple, but it was a near thing. They burst out laughing, the weight of their exchange evaporating, light-hearted joy replacing it. The dogs gave a quick playful bow before racing back out into the fields, continuing whatever game they had going on. The conversation of a passing group pulled Senna's attention away from watching the dogs.

"It's impossible, there's no way to find the golden pumpkin!"

"Maybe it'll be easier next year? We'll just have to see what the design is."

Alex nudged her. "Next year huh?"

Looking out at the bustling farm, bazaar, and rustling corn maze, Senna couldn't help but beam. "Yeah, next year."