canopied

follow the shine

Jaal makes his choice, and finds it easier than he had expected. Jaalmance, pre-relationship (AO3 link to full work, chronicle of a soul adrift)
previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Jaal gazed out the back window of the Resistance headquarters in Aya’s capital as he listened to Evfra and the Moshae speaking behind him, tracing the dips and jagged valleys, the breaks in the dense tree canopy where rivers snaked across the ground and cut a pattern into its brilliant azure-green carpet. A study in contrasts—half glittering jungle, teeming with life abundant, a defiant jubilance against the chaos that surrounded them across Heleus, while the other half was molten rock and bristled with fire and fury. A hidden gem of ferocious, chaotic life, protected by death itself.

Havarl might be his tether to everything that made him angara, but Aya held his heart.

And with the Initiative due to arrive any day to establish a permanent embassy of its own, perhaps it held his future as well.

“Are you paying attention, Jaal, or daydreaming—as usual?”

He didn’t look back to see Evfra’s stern disapproval, but shrugged, content to watch a flock of red teffrits burst up and over a distant waterfall, their glittering plumed heads and wings catching the late afternoon sun. “Can I not do both?”

“One can,” the Moshae answered with affection, “but unless you have developed the ability in my long absence, you cannot.”

Keep reading

TalesFromTheFrontDesk: I ruined a man's hotel experience within 30 seconds of talking to him.

So I recently returned to work after being off for two weeks for my wedding – I was actually stoked to be back. First day, and a gentleman approaches the desk. Here’s the gist of the conversation.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“Do you guys let people park out under the canopy?”

“We allow people to park for unloading their luggage and what not, but not for extended periods.”

“Oh, so what about right now?”

“Are there vehicles there currently, sir?”

(This is where the guy looks at me as if I just insulted his entire existence. He’s pissed.)

“Don’t give me that shit, you know damn well that there is.”

“I actually can’t see it from the desk sir, I was just-”

(He interjects here, red in the face and very visibly enraged.)

“I’m gonna be an asshole about this – I am so fed up with everything at this hotel. Especially YOU.”

He took the time to point at me as aggressively as possible while he emphasized the last part. As he walked away, he was rambling about how I had said something prior, and I didn’t catch the rest of it. Fortunately, my fellow FD agent realized that the guy wasn’t just making a joke – he almost jumped in and joked that he was also fed up with me, but I imagine that the guy wouldn’t have been pleased.

So yes – my first shift back in two weeks, and this is what happens. Definitely one of the finer moments at this property. We didn’t catch the guy’s name or room number, unfortunately. Wish I could have seen his face when I told him that he must have me mistaken for another employee. Overall, he was a real piece of shit, and has given us a great joke to make for the next few weeks.

By: TheKaskae

3

Happy 100th Birthday to I.M. Pei, architect of and longtime friend to the JFK Library, and inspiration to artists and architects around the world!

In describing the JFK Library for the Dedication Program held on October 20, 1979, he wrote:

“Its openness is the essence….In the reflective mood that the architecture seeks to engender, [visitors] may find themselves thinking of John F. Kennedy in a different way. In the skyline of his city, in the distant horizons toward which he led us, in the canopy of space into which he launched us, visitors may experience revived hope and promise for the future.”

anonymous asked:

Would love a drabble about OT5 (Chocobros & Luna)- either first intimate encounters for the group or lazy fluffy Sunday morning mush???

(ahaha first time OT5 is likely to end up in OOY, so I went with the second option–but also set in One Other Year. I also… should have warned people that I tend to turn prompts on their ear. Like this.)


“It’s a very large bed, kupo.” The moogle in charge of the royal furnishings looked at his work with a critical eye. He was quite pleased with himself. It was, without question, the largest bed he’d ever built in his long and storied career. No mere four-poster, but five, the better to hold the vast, star-stitched canopy. Three entire blackwood trees had been cut for the lumber, and his artisans had coaxed out a panoply of fanciful figures along the headboard: liveried dragons and phoenixes and chocobos in a field of flowers, and a lissome long-eared fox darting between them all. The tailors’ guild had spent the better part of a week embroidering the counterpane alone. It could have fit the moogle’s entire extended family including nieces and cousins, and as he was the youngest of sixteen siblings, that was saying something.

“He has a lot of company,” Ignis said, signing off on the order slip with a flourish.

Ignis,” Noct said, shooting him a look over the top of the moogle’s pom-pom.

“Kupo,” The moogle said, in sympathy. “I understand. It must get very cold above the ground, when you have no fur.”

“Yes,” Prompto said, fingers twitching as he refrained from patting the little creature. “Yes, it does.”

“We’ll be back next week to deliver the wardrobe, Kupo.” Best to get started on the next task. After all, his guild had a lot of work to do, what with fitting the entire royal apartments, and time waited for no moogle. The moogle gave his work one last admiring glance before leaving the king and queen and their loyal advisors alone in the half-furnished royal bedroom.

“I think,” Gladio said, scratching his beard, “it might actually be big enough.”

Luna ran her fingers over the perfect bells of sylleblossom twining up the bedposts. “I expect there’s only one way to find out.”

Ignis locked the door, and Noct loosened his tie.

It was big enough. Bigger by far than a damp tent, than the cramped backseat of a car, than the miniature bedroom in the end of a rickety camper. It could hold a behemoth in human form and a squirmy handful of freckles and a king and a queen and their put-upon advisor, who claimed he just wanted to do his crossword in peace. It was big enough for two or for three or four or for five, and only very rarely did it have less. It was big enough for snowy mornings with stacks of books and five teacups balanced on the headboard; it was big enough for late summer nights with all the windows open. It was strong enough–on those same summer nights and winter mornings–when its occupants engaged in activities far more strenuous than sleeping. On a spring afternoon it was the first to hear a new princess’ cries, and on blustery evenings it provided a place for her brothers and sisters to come when they were frightened by thunder. It withstood both nightmare and weeping, laughter and love.

And on a night many years later, when it held only two, King Noctis Lucis Caelum put down the letter he was reading and told his wife that everyone was coming for Yuletide, and all the children as well, and he was damned if he knew where they would all sleep. She simply smiled at him, not looking up from her book.

“They’ll sleep in their bed,” she said. “There’s plenty of room.”