#flat-topped white aster | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scriptflorist · 2 years

Note

Hey! I love your blog so much, and I'm so happy that I found it (it's helped a lot)! I was wondering if you could do a list of flowers that mean (or fall into the category of/are similar to): Obsession, Obsessive love, 'til death do us part, I want your attention, I belong to you, you belong to me, etc., etc. Along with this, I'd also like to know what flowers are native to New Jersey (And also which ones bloom in the fall, if any?) Thank you, and have a lovely day!

That should be possible with some creativity given that obsession and bonding don’t exist as meanings themselves, but it leans well enough into the Victorian flower language to get something out of it still. Hope there’s something in here that works for your story.

arbor vitae – live for me, unchanging friendship

baby’s breath – everlasting love, innocence, pure of heart

bay leaf – I change but in death/dying

broom-rape – union

carnation (pink) – I will/I’ll never forget you, women’s love

cedar leaf – I live for thee

clover (white) – think of me

columbine – I cannot give thee up, folly, desertion

columbine (purple) – resolved to win

cowslip (american) – divine beauty, you are my angel, you are my divinity

currant – thy frown will kill me, thankfulness

daisy (double) – affection, I reciprocate your affection

daphane (rose) – I desire to please

eschscholzia – do not refuse me

euphorbia – persistence

fleur-de-lis – I burn, flame

foxglove – I am not ambitious for myself but for you, a wish, stateliness, occupation, insincerity, youth

furze – love for all seasons/occasions

gladiolus – you pierce my heart, generosity, I’m sincere, flower of the gladiators

heart’s ease – you occupy my thoughts, forget me not, think of me, thoughts

heart’s ease (purple) – you occupy my thoughts

hemlock – you will be my death

honeysuckle – generous and devoted affection, bonds of love, the bond of love, devotion, I would not answer hastily, fidelity

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

honeysuckle (wild) – generous and devoted love

japonica – sincerity, symbol of love

jasmine (indian) – I attach myself to you, attachment, separation

laurestine – a token, I die if neglected, delicate attention

mallow (syrian) – consumed by love, persuasion

rose (carolina) – love is dangerous

shepherd’s purse – I offer you my all

spindle tree – your charms are engraven on my heart

tulip – (a) declaration of love, perfect lover, fame, beautiful eyes

tulip (red) – declaration of love

virginia creeper – I cling to you both in sunshine and in shade

Plants native to New Jersey that bloom in fall/autumn:

allegheny monkey flower

american angelica

american arrowhead

american blue vervain

american lotus

american water-willow

ashy sunflower

bigleaf aster

black-eyed susan

bluebell

blue bead lily

blue cohosh

blue mistflower

blue star

blue wood aster

bottle gentian

bowman’s root

brown-eyed susan

bunchberry

bushy aster

canada goldenrod

canada wild ginger

canadian violet

cardinal flower

carolina geranium

caroline redroot

closed bottle gentian

coastal plain joe-pye weed

common boneset

common evening primrose

cow parsnip

crooked aster

cutleaf coneflower

cup plant

downy skullcap

early goldenrod

false aster

false sunflower

field thistle

flat-topped white aster

foam flower

fringed bleeding heart

fringed loosestrife

gayfeather

golden crownbeard

grass-leaved goldenrod

grassy arrowhead

gray goldenrod

great blue lobelia

hairy aster

hardy hibiscus

heath aster

hoary vervain

horizontal calico aster

jerusalem artichoke

joe-pye weed

late boneset

marsh betony

maryland golden aster

maximilian sunflower

meadow phlox

narrowleaf mountain mint

new england aster

new york aster

new york ironweed

nodding lady’s tresses

orange fringed orchid

orange jewelweed

patridge pea

pearly everlasting

pink tickseed

prairie sagebush

purple-head sneezeweed

purple mountain saxifrage

red baneberry

rock harlequin

rough goldenrod

salt heliotrope

sawtooth sunflower

scarlet bee balm

seashore mallow

seaside goldenrod

selfheal

showy black-eyed susan

showy goldeneye

showy goldenrod

showy tick trefoil

slender buch clover

slender dayflower

smooth beggartick

smooth blue aster

sneezeweed

spotted joe-pye weed

stiff goldenrod

stiff sunflower

swamp sunflower

swamp thistle

sweet goldenrod

sweetscent

sweet-scented joe-pye weed

tall boneset

tall cinquefoil

tall goldenrod

ten-petaled sunflower

threadleaf coreopsis

tickseed

virginia meadow beauty

water arum

western sunflower

wild bergamot

wild cucumber

wild potato vine

wild senna

wingstem

white baneberry

white goldenrod

white panicle aster

white snakeroot

white turtlehead

white wood aster

whorled milkweed

woodland sunflower

wreath goldenrod

yellow jewelweed

yellow pond lily

This website gives a breakdown by county in form of excel lists, albeit it doesn’t say whether the plants bloom in fall or not.

https://npsnj.org/native-plants/where-to-buy-natives/plant-lists/

– Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

https://www.gardenia.net/native-plants/new-jersey

#flower language #gardening #writing advice #victorian flower language #obession #obessive love #feelings of love #attention #you belong to me #I belong to you #mod jana #ask answered

18 notes · View notes

jackie02009 · 5 months

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Aster by Firmiana Black and White Polka Dot Cold Shoulder Tunic Top Size Large.

0 notes

golden-wingseos · 3 years

Text

“uh oh.”

when they accidentally embarrass themselves in front of their crush... [y/n].

featuring —

✧ bennett, chongyun, diluc, zhongli (separate) x gn!reader

warnings ―

✧ not proofread, blood (not graphic, but mentions), mentions of death

notes ―

✧ woke up at 5am, had this idea, wrote it all at 5am... went back to sleep 😻

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓 -: ✧ :-゜・．

he was living life, actually talking to you until...

until he accidentally. slipped. and fell flat on his face. and what makes it even worse? the moment he got up, he slipped again. right on his bottom

to anybody else—maybe that wasn’t too bad! yeah! it’s okay, chin up king!

no. absolutely not. because he was about to confess to you. he had the flowers (a single windwheel aster) ready!

“ah, bennett, are you okay?” you smiled, holding your hand out to him as he short-circuited, his life replaying through his very eyes as he prepared to dig his grave and hop right in

“your nose is a little red, here,” pulling out a handkerchief, you let bennett wipe his slightly bloody nose as you handed him a cute band-aid for future needs

“a-ah, thank you! [y/n]!” bennett cradled the band-aid you gave him, his heart still pounding in his chest—but now, it was at least two times faster

hmm, even if he did brutally embarrass himself in front of you and messed up his confession... at least you gave him a band-aid!

don’t be surprised when he goes home to tell his expecting-dads...

“hey bennett, did you do it? did ya confess?”

“no! but i got a band-aid!”

“. . . oh you bet they like you, benny!” one of his dads laughed, slapping bennett’s back as the adolescent boy lurched forward upon impact

feeling his now dry nose, bennett’s mouth hung agape at the thought

you liking him? wow... did anybody want to like him?

well, he could only hope!

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐍 -: ✧ :-゜・．

you bet it—he accidentally (was fed) jueyun chilis!

xingqiu was having the time of his life. but chongyun? king was partying on top of tables, announcing his profound love for you, sobbing because he thought you didn’t like him... you name it

glaring at xingqiu, you mouthed ‘i’ll kill you’ while chongyun was joining xinyan’s performance as the orange-eyed fellow winced under your stare, whistling innocently while you chased to catch up to chongyun

“oi! chongyun! you can’t interrupt xinyan’s—“

“[y/nnn]! i missed you!” the boy immediately turned around, rushing towards you with his hands outstretched for a hug

“you just saw me like five minutes ago...”

“i love you, hehe.”

was he even listening? your eyes widened at the use of the ‘l’ word. seriously? how could he throw it around so easily? even when you two weren’t even dating!

“i... um... yes,” you nodded, patting his back stiffly as he hugged you. you had never been this close to chongyun before, for he often held everyone at arm’s length to not trigger his condition

and yet, as he embraced you. you noticed the sky blue light of his hair, the scent of mint and the many popsicles he ate fanning off of the white garments of his clothing

xingqiu—who watched from afar—merely smirked, patting himself on the back as he opened up a book as to not look obvious with his staring

“another one for the great xingqiu!” he quietly snickered.

and once he cooled down, chongyun’s HORROR when he heard the rumors from walking down liyue’s streets. older women giggling at him for how cute he was while he slowly went insane

what did they mean he hugged you? and confessed his love? what!? you didn’t mention any of those things! neither did the usually-teasing xingqiu

and oh boy... the pure embarrassment he feels when the mr. zhongli confirms those rumors... he has to go scarf down four popsicles or else he’d trigger his condition again

“i’m so sorry [y/n] i’m so sorry [y/n] i’m so sorry [y/n]—“

ah. you hummed, nodding at his apologies as you made an observation

he was cute with his condition triggered and without

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 -: ✧ :-゜・．

how did the diluc of mondstadt get embarrassed? well, you see, it was kaeya! why of course it was kaeya... kaeya was the source of all of diluc’s problems /hj

he was just bartending for angel’s share, you know, the usual. and then, you came in!

you bet his crimson eyes did a double-take. you drink?! even he didn’t know that

and once he saw the oh-so-familiar irritable blue hair of his (regrettably) brother, his eyes narrowed at the sight. was this a date?

his suspicions were confirmed to be true by kaeya, who simply grinned as you were oblivious to the silent fight the brothers were having, their eyes darting around as to symbolize the words they could not share with your presence here

“ah, [y/n]. what can i get you?”

“uh, apple cider is fine,” you smiled, sending the red-head’s heart racing at least at 200000 beats per minute

“hm, quite good taste, dear!” kaeya smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as diluc deadpanned, his irritation growing as he clutched his hands a bit too tight around the glass cup, shattering it with the mere squeeze of his fingers

oh crap. diluc thought.

oh crap. kaeya thought.

the WAY diluc wanted to bash his skull in. he would’ve handed kaeya his claymore, his eyes devoid of any emotion as all he could muster out was “do it, kaeya. kill me.”

kaeya’s widened eyes quickly turned crinkle as he laughed, getting kicked out of the tavern as you watched the entire exchange silently, your face contorting into confusion, then worry, then back to confusion

“i—uh, sorry, i’ll remake your drink...” diluc cleared his throat, a light blush dusting his face as he ignored the shattered shards on the floor, fixing you up another apple cider as he practically heard kaeya’s taunting voice in his ears

“yEaH. i’Ll rEmAkE yOuR dRiNk.”

now diluc really wants to bash his skull in.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 -: ✧ :-゜・．

he didn’t get embarrassed during the time. only until he went home, replayed it in his mind, screamed into a pillow, and prepared to go into a solitary hideout did he realize how much he messed up

it was just a normal day for the ex-archon—walking through liyue with you by his side as he utilized his knowledge in informing you about the ways of the harbor, and ultimately, life!

and while you walked towards a restaurant, zhongli being the gentleman he is, held the door for you

of course, if it weren’t for trying to push on a pull-door.

he made it blatantly obvious too, trying his best to push through the laws of engineering as you stared, a small smile dusting your face like the golden light that’d shine through liyue harbor

he merely said ‘oh’ once he pulled it, opening it for you without a care in the world as his gentlemanly duties were always first

but oh boy did his amber eyes morph in embarrassment while he sat alone in his home, his face buried into his pillow as he could not bear this—this travesty of his past self

did you notice? probably. is that why you smiled at him? oh crap! he’s such a fool, a big fool. stop. get rid of it. get rid of the memories

at least the others (bennett, chongyun, diluc) can forget about it once they die. but oh boy—zhongli? he’s gonna remember that for another century

but hey... at least he was considerate? ah hah?

“no,” his voice was muffled against the fluffy texture of his pillows, his eyes scrunched in embarrassment as he forced himself to fall asleep

ah... how you had him in such a trance you could bring even him to embarrassment

5K notes · View notes

kintatsujo · 3 years

Text

LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART ONE

warnings: Parental abuse, fantasy religion, fantasy religious abuse

So the original grain of this concept was actually a dream I had once but we'll get to that.

A major aspect of this idea that makes it an "AU" as opposed to "just" a "game pitch as fanfic" concept is that it has a worldmap that looks something like this:

[Image Description: A map of a continent. In the center is Gerudo Desert, ringed by mountains that extend from the bottom to top of the continent. On the west side of Gerudo Desert, from north to south, are countries labeled "Termina," "Holodrum," and "Labrynna," while on the east side are countries labeled "Hytopia," "Hyrule" and "Lorule." Hytopia is indicated to be a sky island above a territory labeled "Drablands." Hyrule and Termina are more directly east and west of one another, as the Drablands are the northernmost country of the continent and Labrynna is the southernmost country. There is an indication of another continent to the east, and off the eastern shore is a sky island labeled "Sky Temple." To the south of Labrynna is a proper island labeled "Windfish Isle." There is a legend in the upper left corner that reads "Really generalized AU map. Proportions not to be taken too seriously and most of the sky islands besides Hytopia just aren't there because it would get too busy." End Description.]

Lorule as a physical country to the south of Hyrule rather than a mirror version of Hyrule is because I am weak for dumb puns. Also in general you can describe this as "this is my AU and I do what I want."

Also the map of Hyrule itself in this AU should be considered to be heavily similar to the Breath of the Wild map because that's what I want shh. Does this mean the other countries are similar in scope despite being based on countries from earlier and smaller games? Well, yeah.

I actually tried out making this worldmap in RPGMaker btw but to get something I was happy with I'd at LEAST need a nicer worldmap tileset for MZ. Do I have the skills to make that? Yep. Have I got the time to make that? Nope.

Anyway so as noted there's actually a NUMBER of floating sky islands in this version of the setting, and its version of Link was raised here, in the sky temple monastery/commune/abbey don't look at me:

[Image description: A floating island with a round temple, some sort of pillars arranged in a circle, and a few other buildings, one of which might be a dormitory. The temple has a statue of the Triforce nested in Hylia's wings on the roof. End description.]

A couple notes here since it's the only good place: In this Hyrule there are Loftwings because I said so. There is also a Rito run mail service and there are also balloon-based airships. Again, because I said so. The Rito are the main people who run supplies to the Sky Temple, but there's also a number of hylians with bonded Loftwings living there. The Loftwings are a little less mysterious in that they clearly roost nearby riders they've bonded with; note the large archways kind of indicated on the side of the dorm building. Link, at this point in the story, does not have a Loftwing, which is important for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post. Also, I'm not sure how obvious it is but I do intend that there's a cucoo/chicken coop set up near the dorm; this is for the eggs but the monk or whatever in charge of them is definitely a crazy bird person and probably also keeps messenger pigeons. There would also be a garden somewhere and as one can possibly tell there's a graveyard. Basically this Sky Temple is what I thought Skyloft was going to be a little more like until I found out it was literally a Boarding School Town. Anyway.

The thing is that this Link was discovered to be the Hero of the age sometime in his infancy.

And this is the person who discovered him:

[Image description: On one half of the page is an establishing shot of a hylian man in blue and white (light gray) robes and a hat, with long hair in a braid and graying at the temples. He's approximately middle aged by the lines in his face, tall and slender and moderately attractive. He is wearing heavy gold diamond shaped earrings to match the symbols of Hylia and the Triforce on his clothing. He is frowning, and he is labeled "Astramorus." On the other half of the page are a series of comic panels: In the first, a young Link is hiding from a Rito behind Astramorus's cloak. Astramorus asks, apparently fondly, "Come now boy, where's your courage?" while the Rito sheepishly assures him "Th-that's quite all right, Lordship." In the second panel, a very small Link dressed in the Hero of Hylia's traditional green outfit is wiping his eyes while holding a sword too large for him. There is blood on Link's clothes. Astramorus, standing so that only the hem of his robes are in shot, asks "Come now boy, where's your courage?" And in the last panel, lit as though by fire, Astramorus now has a much older Link by the back of the neck in a controlling manner, once again asking, "Come now boy, where's your COURAGE?" End description.]

By the way the manner in which Astramorus is holding the back of Link's neck in the final panel is a sneaky thing my dad used to pull sometimes; basically if you squeeze just hard enough to hurt nobody but the person you're doing it to can actually tell so you can even do it in public without people necessarily noticing. It took me ages to go "wait that was actually really fucked up that he used to do that." Shoulder touch is good, neck touch bad.

A note on Astramorus's costume: It's basically an evil version of the costume worn by the priestly guy from the Sanctuary in alttp. Astramorus himself, well, I had the idea for him well before Age of Calamity came out but yes he is basically named after Aster, so you can guess that he's more than just a terrible father.

Astramorus has been training Link since he could lift his sword, including trials he should have been too small for and acquiring things for him to fight-- and kill. Link isn't allowed to speak to anyone unless asked questions or told to by Astramorus, not even the other members of the monastery (although perhaps many of the people there have taken their own vows of silence.)

And he's not allowed to have opinions, and he's not allowed to back down in a fight or say that he's too tired to keep training, and this has been going on since Link was six. Astramorus tells him this is the ideal. That never backing down and never stopping is what courage means and what being the hero means. That starting from a young age is only proof of the hero's purity of heart.

And when Link is nearing seventeen, Astramorus tells him that he's going to present him to the royal family of Hyrule, and that at last the HARD part will truly begin. (Keeping in mind that he was putting a six year old through trials MEANT for a seventeen year old.) And Link breaks:

[Image Description: A comic. Link is putting together a paraglider not dissimilar to the one from BotW.

He narrates: Tomorrow we're supposed to set out so that I can meet the king of Hyrule. Which means that this is my last chance to run away.

Link grinds his classic hat into the ground with one boot, and leaves his sword stabbed into the earth behind him. He leaps off the sky island and toward the sun on the horizon.

Link narrates: I don't care if this is cowardly anymore.

End description.]

And THAT one page is what the dream that started the concept was about; some people might remember me talking about it as long as three years ago and it's just been stuck in my head ever since! (Also: I love the idea of there being a Link who starts out wearing the classic outfit and THEN switches to other costumes.)

This is obviously not the end of this AU, lol, stay tuned for where Link finally crash lands (spoiler: He makes it pretty far and you might be able to guess from the map >:3c)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Bonus:

[Image description: A headshot flat color sketch of this Link, who has short fluffy light blonde hair and green eyes. He is yelling, with tears in his eyes: "I am NEVER wearing that STUPID hat again!" End description!]

#Loz au: the courage of running away #au august #my art #Loz #Loz au #legend of zelda

53 notes · View notes

magicianapprenticelyra · 4 years

Text

Finding Space and Time

Summary: They haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was, in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.

Timeline: Muriel’s Route; before the conclusion of The Tower book.

Featuring: Bảo Nguyen, Walterine Aster, James Aster, and Neha Aster.

Tent-Vesuvia

All around them, people that fled from Vesuvia were trickling into the forest. People have already started to dig pits for bonfires, have designated areas for latrines, and are setting up tents to stay in for the foreseeable future.

Asra's been guiding the four of them to settle on a spot. James holds some of the poles to pitch the tent; Walt carries a box of what they could fit from home; Neha holds an additional box of such, along with a tarp folded on top of it; Bảo himself holds some more metal poles, wearing a tool belt with some spades, metal spikes, and a length of rope lashed around his waist.

It's when they get closer to their destination that Bảo halts abruptly, causing James to almost topple them both from bumping into his husband.

“Oi!” James gasps, righting himself quickly. He rebalances his hold on the poles, asking Bảo what’s wrong.

The shortest of them says nothing. His gaze remains pointed ahead, to where a couple just finished setting up their tent.

The four of them haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.

“Lyra!” Asra calls, removing his hat from his head. He approaches the two further up. “Can they set up camp over there?”

Muriel, former Scourge of the South, lets out a noncommittal sound.

He was with Lyra?

All the times she went to the forest with Asra . . . was it to see—?

“Oh, sure!” Lyra nods. As the young woman replaces her glasses on her face, she turns toward the others. Bảo quickly throws the hood of his cloak over his head, and Neha follows suit.

They didn’t want a repeat of last time . . .

Lyra carefully approaches them, most definitely not wearing the right shoes for this terrain.

Asra offers his arm to help balance her. From there, he makes the introductions, eyes mostly on Lyra. He’s gauging how she’s going to fare . . . seeing them all again.

Neha hides behind her Papa, leaning over to the side to get a look at her. Bảo on the other hand stands just off to the side, slightly separated from the rest of them. His heart is thundering in his chest, body slightly tremulous.

When Asra introduces Bảo to his niece, the man stays silent.

After a while of awkward silence, James clears his throat. “If it’s all the same to ye,” he murmurs softly, “me family and I would like to get settled.”

Lyra nods in understanding. She points out some rocks in the area to avoid, lest anyone get concussions. “If you need any help, we’re just up the way,” she adds, smiling as she gestures to where she's settled.

With that, Asra helps Lyra back toward the tent. The white-haired magician turns back a moment to see nods of thanks from the Aster-Nguyen family.

It’s a start, to say the least.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Over time, Lyra and Muriel have become beloved public figures within Tent-Vesuvia. Lyra, kind as ever, helped around where she could. Muriel typically wasn’t too far away from her, offering a begrudging hand here and there too.

One evening, Lyra plays a game of kickball with some of the younger kids. Most are as young as four years old, and the eldest ones are within the teenaged category. At the moment, Neha is off harvesting food with a group of adults, including her father. This leaves Walterine and Bảo back within the settlement.

Currently, Walterine sits against a tree, her husband in her arms. Bảo has his back to her front, settled between her legs. Walt herself has her chin playfully settled atop of her husband’s head, arms wrapped around his waist.

“You okay?” Walt murmurs.

“Mm?” Bảo blinks, shifting his head up slightly. “Why you ask?”

“Well . . . you’re always watchin’ her, but you’re not trying to get to know her again.”

Before he can answer, a children's chorus of mischievous laughter fills the air. Bảo shifts to look, witnessing the kids collectively tackle his beloved niece to the dirt in an impromptu dog pile. Parents immediately go pick their rowdy little ones off of Lyra. Miraculously, her glasses weren’t broken in the process.

“We win!” one of the children crow as they’re carried off by one parent, the other profusely apologizing to Lyra.

“No no no! I-it’s okay!” she reassures, dusting herself off. She, at the very least, got into more practical clothes.

Neither of them knew why Muriel remained in his Masquerade attire. Seeing how big of a guy he is, it's probably the only thing within the camp to fit him properly.

“ . . . you gonna talk to her?” Walt murmurs, hugging Bảo just a little tighter.

“. . . not yet,” he replies. His wife sighs, but she plants a soothing kiss to the top of his head. Patting his shoulder, the pair of them get up as Neha and James return with their group of neighbors.

It was time to divvy up the goods.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Excuse me?”

James looks up, seeing Lyra standing before him.

Currently, he’s in the process of waxing his bowstring. Surprisingly, she too has a bow on hand. It’s unstrung, and the bowstring she holds in her hand is terribly frayed.

“Yes?” James replies, still rubbing the wax into his bowstring. “Do you have a question?”

She nods. James gestures for her to sit down. In turn, Lyra carefully moves a flat rock over, quickly settling on it.

After a pregnant pause, Lyra finally replies with, “I . . . want to learn how to properly wax the bowstring,”

“That’s fine,” James nods. “What arrows are you usin’?”

To his shock, Lyra conjures an arrow from thin air. It's made of light; he could make out touches of a light sea green color within the silvery arrow.

James swallows, his skin soon covered in goosebumps. “ . . . I see,” he nods, voice strained.

Before Lyra can properly apologize, James politely waves her off. "Doan worry 'bout it," he reassures. "I should've known you'd be able to do that. You were always a bright one, lass . . ."

Lyra shakes her hand about, dissipating the arrow before she hands the items over to him.

As James teaches her proper bow and bowstring care, he notices she's looking at him oddly.

"Is it me hair or eyes?" he laughs softly.

" . . . both and . . . not." Lyra rubs the side of her neck sheepishly.

"What's botherin' you?"

". . . how do you know Asra?"

Ah . . .

"Me wife is a magician too," he explains. "She went to your shop quite a bit."

"How come I've never seen her, then?"

"Walt's economical," James nods. "Tends to buy enough to last 'er a while."

Lyra looks at him skeptically. James raises an eyebrow in turn.

"Lass, if you want to say something—"

"I knew you and your family before, didn't I?"

James is taken aback by her bluntness. He's missed it.

". . . yes," he nods. James checks the state of her bowstring, handing it back to her. "You know how to string it?"

"Wait a minute!" Lyra sputters. "How? Why? How come—?"

"Easy Lyra . . ." he soothes. "Easy. Mind yer voice; getting more eyes as is." James makes a gesture to someplace behind her with the tilt of his head.

Lyra flushes scarlet, mouth curved into a frown. In the meantime, James looks at the curious onlookers with a venomous glare. Move . . .

They eventually dispersed. When James is sure they’re alone, he asks her quietly, “How did you know?”

“You slipped,” Lyra chuckles wryly. “You said how I was ‘always a bright one’. I don’t remember you, sadly . . .”

“Asra told us about your accident,” he replies. James continues with the details: how she was trying a spell to find a cure for the Red Plague. It backfired terrifically. It had wiped her memory to the point where she was almost like an infant.

“Th’ fact Asra managed to get you back to being like an adult again in a three year span . . .” James exhales. “We’re . . . we’re indebted to him, truly.”

“Ahh . . . yeah,” Lyra nods, swallowing. “Asra told me that too.”

“’m sorry . . .”

“What are you sorry for?” Lyra looks at him quizzically.

“The fact you dealt with all that, and the episodes if you came across any one of us . . ."

"It wasn't your fault," Lyra murmurs. "We didn't know . . . you didn't know. . ."

James nods. "So . . . how do you wish to get to know us all again . . .?"

O*O*O

They have this conversation while Lyra and Muriel were in the Countess’s headquarters. James breaks the news to his family that their niece now knew of her connection to them.

“WHY YOU DO THAT?!”

While Walt gapes at their husband’s outburst, James winces. Their daughter wisely moves out of the vicinity, mumbling she’s going to a friend’s tent just down the way.

“I beg your pardon—she’s family!” Walt crosses her arms over her chest. Adjusting her glasses, she adds, “Bảo, this is your chance to—”

“Not like this!” Bảo responds. His voice is paper-thin, drawing worry between his spouses’ eyebrows. “No no, not like this . . .”

Walterine and James share a look of concern as Bảo completely breaks down in front of them. James gathers him into his arms, carrying him back into their tent with Walt following close behind.

By the time Lyra and Muriel stumble back to their tent, Bảo had completely cried himself to sleep.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Everyone else is asleep at this point. Walterine would be on patrol duty in just fifteen minutes

“Mrs. Aster? Or should it be Auntie?” Walt turns around to see Lyra. The young woman stands just a little bit outside the light of the campfire.

Walt lowers her glasses a moment, her magenta eyes flashing in the moonlight. Satisfied this was not an imposter, Walt waves her over.

“C’mon, take a seat!” The older woman pats the space of the log next to herself. “And please, don’t call me that. We’re family, Ly!”

Struck by how familiar Walterine’s being with her, Lyra carefully settles herself down on the spot.

“What can I do you for?” Walt asks Lyra. “It can’t be anything big, though. Got patrol soon.”

“I know,” Lyra nods. “I’m on this patrol too.”

Walt grins at that. “Big tall and handsome coming along?”

Lyra sputters, blushing a bit. “He may or may not . . . depends if Asra’s filling in for him.

“Fine by me: I can get the dirt on you from Asra,” Walt teases.

“Dirt? What dirt?” Lyra retorts, incredulous. “Why can’t you talk to me ?”

Walt chuckles. She pats Lyra’s shoulder. “Hon, I’m just teasing. I’m sorry.”

Lyra nods in reply, exhaling softly.

“How many patrols have you done already?” Walterine asks.

“Mmmmmm . . . this would be my fourth, overall?” Lyra murmurs.

“Are you still scared of the dark?”

“Not as bad, I think. Asra said when I first woke up I couldn’t sleep without the stove salamander for a while.”

Walt chuckles good-naturedly. “The stove salamander is a lovely little friend.”

“Mm!”

They sit together, happily getting to know each other again. Lyra turns around when she hears their patrol group approaching, and a smile alights her face as Muriel turns out to be among the group.

“Everyone got everything?” Walt asks, getting her lantern relit. Everyone makes a confirming sound.

“All right. Let’s go!”

O*O*O

The patrol went uneventfully; everyone’s grateful for that. While walking together, Walt took up the front with a fisherman and a bricklayer. In turn, Lyra often switched off with Muriel in terms of holding up the rear, then taking a position in the middle.

By the time the trio return to the area, James is already awake. He’s made breakfast for the three of them. Apparently, he’s also on the next patrol rotation.

Muriel quietly thanks James, trundling off with his bowl to sit on a nearby stump. Lyra does so as well, but not before dipping her head in thanks.

Lyra’s eyes catch movement in the tent behind James. Before the tent flap closed, she caught a flash of bright green hair framing a curious face.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Lyra got to meet Neha Aster when the latter was in a sparring circle with other teenagers and young adults. Nahara herself was watching them work, making commentary on how to reposition their stance and to catch their opponents by surprise.

“ . . . she moves like a dancer,” Lyra notes to the Prakran princess.

“You said she’s your sister?” Nahara inquires softly.

“According to my aunt and uncle, she was around the age of eight or nine when we first met,” Lyra explains. “Walt said she adopted me as a sister right on the spot, even as I was in rags and covered in lice . . .”

As she watches, the bright green of Neha’s tied-back hair comes apart when her opponent grabs at it. The pair tumble to the ground, wrestling ferociously. Nahara moves to break it up when Neha bites, hard, into her opponent's forearm. As Neha and her opponent spring appart, a bloody bite mark is evident on the other’s forearm. Neha had bitten hard enough to draw blood.

“Take a break, everyone!” Nahara states. She specifically tells Neha to go and clean up her mouth. As Neha departs, she catches sight of Lyra following after her.

“You don’t need to hold my hair back,” she tells the bespectacled woman. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pretty scrappy,” Lyra compliments.

Neha grins. “A lot of my friends are from the South End. I had to keep up with them somehow. I learned from Baba.”

“James?”

“No,” Neha shakes her head. “Your uncle.”

O*O*O

After Neha cleaned up, they both sat around a campfire, eating their lunch. Lyra munches on some scrambled eggs as Neha has some masala kheema with rice.

“Want some?” Neha offers her.

“Is it spicy like last time?”

“No; they lessened the spice after everyone had to run to the latrines,” Neha laughs, grinning as Lyra shakes her head.

“It doesn’t taste good to you unless your gut is in agony?”

“Hey: food is food, especially now!” Neha replies. “Plus, until the fucking water can stop turning into wine, we’re still trying to make juice out of all the berries we’re picking. The forest’s gonna run out at this rate!”

Lyra nods. “Hopefully this whole situation will be resolved sooner.”

Neha smiles. “I know it will, especially with you and Muriel helping out.” A mischievous smile grows on Neha’s face. The fact it wasn’t too unlike Asra’s cat-like smirk makes Lyra squint.

“What are you doing?” Lyra murmurs.

“To be honest, I thought it was gonna be you and Asra.”

“HUH?”

“Yeah!” Neha continues, not seeming to care Lyra was bewildered. “You two were attached at the hip: not too different from how you are with Muriel now. Though, Asra was too chicken to confess so, yeah.”

Lyra stares at Neha, dumbfounded.

“But hey, he’s shacking up with Julian soooo . . .”

“Can we please change the subject,” Lyra pleads. Neha was too happy to do so.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Bảo, with a basket of laundry, is making his way back to his family’s tent. He’s struck by an amazing sight: Muriel and Lyra were returning to Tent-Vesuvia, making a beeline toward the Countess’s headquarters; behind them, wobbling on one heeled shoe and disheveled beyond belief, was Consul Valerius .

Bảo sets his basket aside. He finds a stump to stand on to see above the many people stopping and staring at the Consul.

Somehow, Walt and James find him in his chosen spot. As Bảo is trying not to burst into laughter, Walt pats his arm.

“He’s mourning the loss of a fancy-ass shoe, hon. Have some respect!” she cackles, soon leaning onto him for support as she laughs with him. James had a stupendously grin on his face, watching Consul Valerius trudge into the hut after Muriel and Lyra.

Later, spun by the group of teenagers witnessing the Consul’s walk of shame, news of it got through the entire settlement.

“He fell into the mud and Muriel had to pull his sorry ass out.”

“His shoe is deep in the mud: he’s never gonna see it again.”

“The worms won’t get much of a meal there: it’s as cheap as his personality.”

It was the only thing that was spoken of throughout Tent-Vesuvia the rest of the night.

O*O*O

At an ungodly hour, Walterine returns from patrol with a grim expression. The woman finds Bảo talking with some friends at the campfire. She pats Bảo on the shoulder, and walks away from the group. He excuses himself from the others, quickly following after his wife. When Bảo’s within an arm’s length from her, she turns to face him.

“She’s heading into Vesuvia at dawn.”

A chill coalesces at the base of his neck. “What?” Bảo rasps.

“I heard from some of the others. She’s going with Muriel to take on the Pontifex.”

“Is the Countess crazy?!” Bảo exclaims. Walt hushes him, looking behind him to see if anyone was listening.

Satisfied that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, she replies with, “You need to talk to her. You need to, before it’s too late.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

He finds Lyra at the campfire closest to her and Muriel’s tent. She’s alone, looking into the flames in front of her; the young woman’s pensive. Bảo couldn’t blame her. He has half a mind to yell at the Countess for what she’s put her and Muriel up to . . .

As he approaches, Lyra looks up. Bảo stops not too far outside the light of the campfire. He lowers his hood, worriedly looking up. He expected Lyra to be clutching her head, to be writhing in agony on the ground. To his relief, she wasn’t doing any of that. Instead . . . she has a pleased expression.

“They told me to give you time, to let you seek me out . . .” Lyra murmurs, voice a touch watery.

Bảo’s frozen, unsure what to do. His heart pounds in his chest. Tears prick along the rim of his eyes, blurring his vision. The man allows his feet to guide him: he rings around the campfire and pulls her into a warm embrace. Lyra adjusts herself, happily reciprocating the hug.

O*O*O

"There so much to tell you. . . where do I begin?" Bảo murmurs.

They sit side by side, the fire at a healthy height. He tosses in a few leaves, watching them turn to ash in seconds.

"I don't know if I have time to hear the entire story," Lyra admits. "Maybe . . . maybe tell me why you avoided me? For so long?"

Bảo grimaces, sighing. He throws in a small stick, watching it burn. "We . . . it wasn't long after you decide to be Doctor Devorak's assistant. Red Plague . . ." he takes a breath. "We left for Prakra because . . . I got sick. Very sick."

"Was it the plague?" Lyra winces.

Bảo shakes his head no. "I breathe in too much ash. I not only in charge of my store: I work at the dock." He explains further that it got so bad sometimes he couldn't breathe at night.

"Doctor Devorak tell us to go Prakra. Better air, and treatment for me . . . then you decide to be apprentice for him." He laughs softly. "Such a brave girl . . ."

Lyra is surprised there's pride in his voice. "I dunno. Ask another person: they may say I was reckless."

"That too," Bảo agrees, a wry smile on his face. "You didn't want to leave your home to burn, so you stay to help . . ."

“Are we from Vesuvia?”

“No. We from place call Rồngkarst. Province in . . . in Leysương.”

“Is it far?”

“Very!" Bảo nods. "Take me a year with friends to go to Vesuvia."

“Did I come with you?”

At that question, Bảo's expression becomes rueful. “No . . . you were too little, and I wasn’ allow to take you with me . . .”

Seeing his expression, Lyra decides to not ask about it any further. She switches gears, asking, “How did you meet Walt and James?”

“They don’t tell you?”

“They told me they wanted you to be there with them, so you all could tell the story.”

“That sound like a good idea,” Bảo chuckles, nodding. From there, they continued to talk. He wants to ask about how she’s feeling about going back into the heart of Vesuvia, to fight one of the most dangerous courtiers that the city-state has ever known.

It wasn’t long before he could see Muriel approaching from a distance.

“I should get going,” Bảo murmurs. He points Muriel out to her. Upon seeing her dearest, Lyra nods in agreement.

When he stands, Lyra does as well. They embrace each other one more time before Bảo starts to head to his family’s tent.

As he makes his way back, Bảo murmurs prayers under his breath in Leysan. Please, keep her safe . . . he pleads. Please . . .

Come dawn, Bảo’s in a patrol group with Walterine. While resting a moment, the pair spot Muriel, Asra, and Lyra making their way toward Vesuvia. Bảo’s knees buckle under him. Walt manages to catch him before he hits the ground, but he was already in the throes of a panic attack.

Come back! he wants to scream. Come back, you don’t need to go! Sadly, all that is pulled from his throat are harsh sobs. He couldn’t lose her again; it’d be too soon, but Bảo’s feet are useless in getting him anywhere.

By the time he’s done sobbing, Lyra and her friends are long out of sight.

Next: Counting the Days

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #Muriel #muriel x apprentice #Asra #Nahara Satrinava #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #The Forest #the scribe writes #magicianapprenticelyra #From Buds to Flowers to Fruits

40 notes · View notes

onwesterlywinds · 3 years

Text

Raised Glasses

Content warning for brief allusions to physical and emotional abuse.

Early one evening, well before the sun had set over the city above, Ashe was struck with an urge to go deep into the limestone quarry. She entered from a hidden archway along the city's outermost walls and walked down for nearly a bell until she found the place she sought: past Aster's open sigil-gate, past a thin tunnel where the underground wind blew like whispers, into a winding crevasse along which someone had posted standing torches. That otherwise featureless path led her on and on, until at last the walls widened outward and the ceiling rose up for yalms above her and she stood in a vast subterranean chamber: an abandoned workers’ station.

Dozens of others had already gathered, bringing with their work a flurry of motion and purpose, and others still entered in behind her. Little by little they assembled an entire market - the market, the Undercity's traveling venue for wares of all kinds. Ashe watched the procession of vendors and buyers from a distance as the hall slowly filled with color and noise and activity to rival the city above. As more of the Undercity began to trickle in, merchants and musicians and ruffians and a great many others, she contented herself with wandering about, intent on nothing except sating the fateful urge that had driven all of them there to begin with. Soon each booth and stall sat attended, except for one: a chest-high bar carved directly out of the limestone wall, with a fully stocked shelf behind it but no one present to make or serve drinks.

Ashe made her way around the market three times before taking up a shift.

The only woman seated at the bar raised an eyebrow at her coming but hailed her all the same. "Grand Steward."

"You can call me Ashelia," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jas." She was a warrior of some sort, with a full bandolier of weapons draped across each shoulder. "I'll take whatever's in the barrel at your right."

Ashe lowered a glass to the tap, and it filled with a dark, heady beer. She passed it back to Jas and Jas accepted the drink with a nod, and though the woman offered no coin in exchange, Ashe somehow knew their transaction to be fulfilled.

Other orders came in, one by one, as varied as the people asking for them. Rarely did she recognize the drinks: most visitors called for a specific liquor or else a name scrawled on a bottle's label. Before long, she fell into a rhythm of shaking and tapping and pouring and serving, until the line that had stretched out from the bar slowly settled into a small and comfortable crowd, a lethargic gathering to contrast with the market's stream of people.

"Where'd you learn to tend bar, Grand Steward?" asked a broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard.

"At the Sandsea," she said, then added, "The Riskbreakers' headquarters in Thanalan." Even now, she had little idea if her company's deeds were widely known throughout the Undercity. "Back when the XIVth Legion were setting up their castra all over Eorzea, we advertised ourselves as a tavern. It brought in a stream of adventurers, and it let us keep an ear to the ground for any imperial movements."

"Did it work?" piped up a gruff voice.

"It did." She handed off a whiskey drink to the speaker - a woman with one eye, a woman who had passed her in the Ala Mhigan Quarter only a day or so before. The woman saluted her but held on a moment for her to continue the rest of her story. "Precious few knew of us as anything more than a bar for clan hunters until we stormed the Praetorium and took down van Baelsar." Her mention of the erstwhile viceroy's defeat was met with a brief but hearty chorus of victory cries. "Even then, our reputation was so well-hidden that many Eorzeans didn't make the connection that the Riskbreakers of the Sandsea and the Riskbreakers harrying the Garleans were one and the same until much later."

Someone in a hooded robe shook their head, gesturing languidly with a hand already gripping a flask. "Explains how you practiced. Not where you learned."

Ashe rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a good-natured expression but took the correction in stride, tapping another pint of Jas's choice for a Roegadyn soldier who'd appeared at the opposite end of the bar. "Where else but Limsa Lominsa? I started by watching the barkeeps' hands, to make sure they weren't about to snatch up my purse. By the time I became a proper adventurer, getting dragged around to every backwater alehouse in Vylbrand, it was simply a force of habit."

"Who was Ludo?"

The voice was Stella's, tucked away somewhere in the crowd. Sure enough, Ashe espied a flash of white hair, though the girl crouched as if to avoid further detection.

All other chatter slowly died, and her chest went tight, even as she reached to pour out a glass of absinthe without being prompted. Something had shifted with the speaking of his name, as if he came to life so very briefly - as if she could make out his thin, pale face among the crowd and the whole of the Undercity knew him as well as she did for everything he had done. She did not dare halt the movements of her hands; as the glass stopper clinked against its decanter, the sound resonated amid the lull in conversation that had settled over their shadowy corner of the market.

"Ludo was my former partner," she replied at last. She could not find Stella again, and so she spoke to the person in the hooded cloak. "He and I created the Riskbreakers together."

"Did he die?" asked another of the children. They spoke the word without fear or sadness, as had many of the other young ones she'd known in the desert.

"Yes," she said, her voice a little firmer. "Ludo died. His ashes are buried far away on the other side of these mountains, in a place called Coerthas."

Somehow, the persisting silence that fell in response was worse than the question that had preceded it. And so she took up another pair of wine glasses, poured a hearty serving of red into each, and found her voice again, with a crowd of watching eyes upon her.

"He was... special, and charming, easy to admire and confide in - though he so rarely shared his emotions, or even his goals." It was such a facile thing to say in the Undercity, a place where hardly anyone spoke their intentions aloud. "But once we opened up to each other, I couldn't imagine being without him. Even when he lied, or kept things from me, or gambled with our safety."

Someone standing at the market's grocery lobbed an object that was brightly colored and vaguely grenade-shaped; her onlookers ducked their heads and she caught the lime effortlessly, unthinkingly, in her palm. She took up a knife at the counter, rolled the flat of its blade across the surface, and dug in deep to squeeze as much juice as she could into a shallow glass before carving up its rind.

"Twenty years," she said, watching the last bits of pulp fall over the ice. "The first person in twenty years whom I'd learned to trust, implicitly. But he coveted power over our life together. Over me. I suppose I'd always known it, deep down - I just hadn't wanted to believe it until the truth was staring me in the face."

She topped off the glass of lime juice with a rum that so perfectly matched the gold his eyes had been, and her chest went tight at the memory of those eyes meeting hers for the last time: her jaw trapped under his crushing grip, as he promised her power enough to fell the Empire.

When she slammed the drink down upon the bar, not a soul moved to claim it.

"Promise me," said Ashe, meeting the gaze of the closest of the children - a little girl in a patchwork dress. "Promise me you won't stay with someone if they hurt you, no matter who they are or how much you love them. Find a friend, go somewhere new, and don't let them get near you again."

The girl nodded, and her crowd of compatriots swiftly followed suit. Only Stella's face scrunched up in a childish display of pensiveness.

Jas cleared her throat, and Ashe gladly took the cue to refill her beer. "Anyway, the lot of you should meet my husband." The relatively offhanded quip earned her more laughs from the crowd than she'd expected. "I mean it. He remembers far more of this place than I do, on account of his being six moons older than me, and the stories he tells aren't half as morose as mine. But don't tell him I told you so; it'll go straight to his head."

The conversation shifted like a welcome breeze, and still the glass of rum remained on the limestone bar while its ice slowly thawed. Only when the crowd dispersed hours later along with the rest of the market did the last remaining patron, a stocky woman with her light hair tied up in a high bun, down it in a single gulp before hastening off.

Once relieved of that final burden, it was enough for Ashe to bask in the afterglow of good conversation and a job well done. She doubted she had any obligation to clean up the bar behind her - and many of the bar's guests had simply taken their glasses with them - but she nonetheless lingered for long enough to stack the used dishes into a single empty washbin and wipe a damp rag across the countertop, just as she would have done were she at home in the Sandsea. Stella hopped up onto the crate where Jas had been sitting and watched Ashe's movements on occasion, though mostly she carried out her own private listening. When Ashe ended her shift, Stella followed her closely out of the limestone quarry.

"I'd appreciate it if you were to warn me the next time you do that in public, you know," said Ashe. "It's rather impolite to air someone's innermost thoughts when they least expect it."

Stella gasped. "S-S-Sorry."

When the girl looked up at her, Ashe cast what she hoped was a reassuring, if teasing, smile; she gave no words of affirmation but tousled Stella's white curls, earning her a little giggle in response. Together they traipsed their way back upward and eastward to the areas under the Noble District, until Ashe came to a fork in the path and found that Stella had already vanished from her side.

#Ashelia Riot #Stella #Understory

6 notes · View notes

vandaliatraveler · 2 years

Photo

Canaan Valley National Wildlife Refuge, Part 2. Had Allegheny Power gotten its way 40 years ago, the land included as part of this idyllic refuge would today be the muddy bottom of a lake formed by damming the Blackwater River. The power company proposed turning the largest and most botanically-diverse high-elevation wetlands complex east of the Rocky Mountains into a “recreation destination” (e.g., overpriced tourist trap similar to nearby Deep Creek, Maryland) so it could execute a sketchy pump and release hydroelectric scheme. Thankfully, the US Army Corps of Engineers refused to issue a permit, and the nation has been since been rewarded with its 500th national wildlife refuge.

From top: the open grasslands of the refuge, which are actively managed similar to prairies in the Midwest to increase wildlife diversity, black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta), one of the primary benefactors of the open grasslands; flat-topped white aster (Doellingeria umbellata), also known as parasol white-top, a tall, grand late summer aster of the Appalachia’s higher elevations; a thistle seed pod, which draws hordes of goldfinches; field milkwort (Polygala sanguinea), also known as purple milkwort, a field-loving beauty that deserves more attention from native wildflower gardeners; the spindly seed pods of virgin’s bower (Clematis virginiana), another harbinger of autumn’s impending approach; and a tranquil stretch of the Blackwater River, just before it exits the valley in a violent spasm and descends in pure chaos through the boulder-strewn Blackwater Canyon.

61 notes · View notes

johnday · 3 years

Text

16 photos of space-saving and fashionable "wall-mounted desk"

Surprisingly, there are various methods.

The basis for making the room look as large as possible is not to block the floor.

There is a technique to reduce the psychological blockage by choosing furniture with legs instead of directly placing it on the floor to show the floor, but if you fundamentally reduce the amount of furniture placed in the room, , You can make a large room more easily.

However, it is also true that there are essential furniture such as desks and storage that you absolutely want to put in your room. Therefore, we recommend a wall-mounted desk.

Furthermore, if it is foldable, the top plate can be stored in the wall when not in use, making the room look cleaner.

A wall-mounted desk that has various other merits, such as being able to be installed at the desired height. This time, I collected fashionable interior photos with such a wall-mounted desk.

We also introduce techniques for installing a wall-mounted desk at home and space-saving techniques that can be used in rental properties, so please check it out.

An example photo of a fashionable wall-mounted desk

First of all, a summary of the unique and fashionable wall-mounted desks introduced in the past on this blog.

Desk box

It is a wall-mounted desk with an interesting mechanism that the top plate + shelf appears by sliding the box diagonally.

Sequel Wall Desk

Not only is the drawer a keyboard stand, but the cable can be hidden in the back panel, so it's recommended for PCs.

twofold

A mechanism in which the desk top plate appears when the upper part of the box storage is rotated. It's perfect for a sub desk.

Fläpps

A wall mount panel that allows you to install multiple flip-type shelves. It seems that it can be used for various purposes such as desks and storage.

Here are some other things I found through research again.

Sticotti Shelving

System storage type desk shelf. You can make various variations such as width and arrangement of shelves.

Floating desk baltic birch with laminate top

This is an idea posted on the IKEA furniture fan site "IKEA Fans". Recommended for those who want a laptop desk in the kitchen.

LAX wall mounted desk

A desk with storage that can be mounted directly on the wall. The white coat is a good accent.

Cantilevered office desk

A simple desk with a unique shape. It has shelves and is surprisingly easy to use.

Ligne Roset P & P 900

Ligne Roset's system storage, which is also popular in Japan (* Is it out of print now?). You can use it not only as a desk but also as a TV board.

Waveform

It seems to be good as a simple desk that can be used while standing by placing a small notebook PC or notepad.

as4 modular furniture system

A system that can combine various shelves and storage boxes. You can also simulate here.

Wall-mounted desk that you can buy in Japan IKEA SVALNÄS

IKEA wall-mounted storage system. Various furniture such as desk tops, drawers, and box storage are compactly organized.

Shelf plus

A simple flip panel wall desk. It's good that even DIY beginners can easily install it.

Wall-mounted dining table

A type in which chairs are placed on both sides of the top plate instead of facing the wall. Recommended as a substitute for a small dining table.

string BASIC wall desk system

A wall-mounted system in which a ladder-shaped frame is attached to the wall and shelves are placed on it. It is convenient to be able to fine-tune the height.

aster WallDesk 500

A type that mounts a box with a compact desk top plate and shelves on the wall. It may be good when you want to concentrate on your work.

Tips for installing a wall-mounted desk From here, I will introduce techniques for actually incorporating a wall-mounted desk into your home.

Which type do you choose?

Fixed type

It is a wall-mounted desk that firmly fixes the top plate to the wall using L-shaped installation equipment called "angle" or "bracket".

Even beginners can install it relatively easily, so it's a format that is also used when making shelves with do-it-yourselfers.

It is structurally sturdy and safe to put heavy objects on it, but it has the disadvantage of being inferior in space saving compared to the foldable type described later, so it is recommended to use it for a wall-mounted desk that is frequently used.

Foldable The top plate can be moved using hinges, etc., and it is a great advantage that it can be stored flat on the wall when not in use.

It's a little tricky to make from scratch with DIY, but recently ready-made kits are also on sale, so if you're worried, you should choose that.

However, it has the disadvantage of being slightly inferior to the fixed type in terms of load resistance, so it is recommended to use it as a sub desk to the last.

Recommended wall-mounted desk installation location living The living room, which has a surprisingly dead space such as the back of the sofa and the corner, is perfect for installing a wall-mounted desk. It is also recommended for study desks for small children.

kitchen If you have plenty of space, it's convenient to have a small wall-mounted desk in your kitchen. It's perfect for taking recipe notes and keeping your tablet or smartphone.

The bedroom We also recommend installing a wall-mounted desk in one corner of the bedroom. A house without a dedicated study can be used as a substitute or as a dresser.

How to hang your computer monitor on the wall

If you are thinking of working on a PC at a wall-mounted desk, it is recommended that you also hang the monitor on the wall.

Easy to install. All you have to do is install the special metal fittings on the wall.

It is recommended not only for wall-mounted desks but also for ordinary desks because it saves the depth of the desk top plate.

#bedroom #kitchen #wall

1 note · View note

herenortherenearnorfar · 3 years

Text

Third Baoshan Sanren’s Mountain of Strange Children fic because I had a vision.

Xiao’er is a nocturnal child. That’s fine, Baoshan Sanren lets her students make their own schedules.

Amid the rolling dark he prowls the mountain, a little specter in white. Humans don’t have eyeshine the way that most animals do. Years of cultivation training have given him sharper night vision, a green cast behind his eyes. That extra skill makes his eyes flash green, not red, when he lifts his lantern. Though not necessary, the lantern is important for warning off other night wanderers, the leopards, dhole, squirrels, and owls.

Wild animals give him distance and he returns the favor. Moving lightly through the world means abiding by a system of mutual respect; besides, he’s grown too big to ride the wandering deer the way he did as a smaller child.

These days if he wants to climb to the top of the mountain he must do so himself.

It’s not an impossible climb but it does take most of the evening. Rocky paths of such incline require extra time after nightfall. This mountain was deserted before Baoshan Sanren and her students came five years ago. They haven’t changed much of its topography, haven’t carved easier handholds into the stark stone or worn down wide thoroughfares. The paths he walks were made by stalking mountain leopards and nimble goats.

Narrow paths lead up to steep peaks. Eventually even the foliage gives way to bare rock.

He finds his favorite place to watch the world and settles down. Putting out his lantern, he lets his eyes adjust to the full dark. Once he’s wholly immersed the stars peek out from the raw dark firmament, one by one, until the sky is not a flat blanket but a textured immensity, stretching up forever, full of ten thousand lights.

Being trained in matters of fate and fortune, he can identify the four great divisions of the heavens (each associated with a sacred beast), the three enclosures of the north, the heavenly mansions of the moon, and many constellations besides. Right now the moon is in the Three Stars Mansions, they’re coming out of the territory of the White Tiger as Autumn fades, and-- he checks the sky, craning his head-- the star right above him is Cumulative Corpses. Not the most auspicious one, but he only gets to keep it for a moment. An hour earlier he thinks it would have been something in Well, maybe the Celestial Wine Cup.

Stars are beautiful and Xiao’er loves them. He loves the moon too, a waning slice growing thinner by the day, steady in its patterns. That isn’t all he came up here to see.

With the heavens well appreciated he turns his gaze to the stars below.

There are ancient temples nearby, his teacher chose one of the less used of the Wudang mountains which means that the more traversed peaks are very frequented indeed. Even in the deep night when everyone is sleeping, some lanterns still flicker, some fires still roar. This season is especially good for earth-watching, the midautumn festival was four days ago and the aftermath of the celebration still lingers. Bright red lanterns and an extra hum of activity carry through the temple, visible from miles away. He can see the small lights wind up and down the mountain top, an earthbound River to match the one above.

There are other earthly asterisms as well. Small tea farms dot the valleys below and the glow of their chimneys, of windows and banked fires, can be seen here and there. On a damp, cold night like this, fires are extra high and extra visible. On the very edge of the horizon is a whole village, a cluster of tiny white pinpricks against a world of dark.

He loves to see the lanterns. They prove that there are other people out there, something more than the mountain and Baoshan Sanren’s teachings. These barely visible stars are a reminder that there’s a world he cannot see.

When they moved mountains, he got a glimpse of the outside. He was six then, two years in Baoshan Sanren’s care and one of the youngest of her students. The old mountain, in the north, no longer served its purpose so all her younger pupils packed up and left. Walking hand-in-hand down long roads, they made their way from there to here. Even avoiding the big cities they couldn’t help but pass through a number of towns and while his siblings averted their eyes from the buzz of a world unruly, Xiao’er stared. When his little legs got too heavy and his sister had to carry him, he stared even more, taking advantage of his place on her shoulders to watch every merchant that passed with wide eyes.

Promises are promises. Xiao’er swore once that his request to come study meant that he would never leave. But he was four at the time, raised in a quiet temple. He didn’t know what the world meant. The priest brought Baoshan Sanren in, a new person with a bright exciting face, and said ‘Xiao’er, this is the famed immortal. If you wish to leave with her you can never return.’

Blindly, he’d accepted.

He wanted to know her and now he does. Now he wants to know more, wants to know what happens in those little light filled homes, what how people behind those bobbing lanterns act. Are they different from the twenty eight people he has known for the past seven years?

The lights, temple and home, above and below, go to and fro for hours until dawn finally breaks. Xiao’er loves the dawn too (he is free with his affections, easy and open as a child who has never known fear). Dawn gave him his name; Baoshan Sanren says it’s probably when the priests at the temple found him.

With just enough light to see by, he picks himself up and goes back home.

By the time he finishes the climb down, which is easier than the climb up but not by much, a fourth of his brothers and sisters are awake. Morning is the best time for chores. He’ll do his and then settle in for an afternoon nap.

“Did you enjoy the stars, Xiao’er?” asks a sister picking up buckets to fetch water. “The spider moon is always lovely.”

“You should have waited until the new moon, it’s much easier to see in the dark,” advises a brother who thinks he knows everything. Baoshan Sanren teaches wisdom, not social grace.

“Oh, no,” Xiao’er says, “I was looking at the earthly stars, from Mid-Autumn. They won’t last long.”

The older ones chuckle. “Earthly stars, Xiao’er, such a poet!”

“Stars of the earth?” he tries, which only makes them laugh harder.

“Xingchen,” she pinches his cheek. “Our terrestrial astronomer.”

The River of Heaven slants and the morning stars are low.

They have no interest in the outside world. To them the stars above, which influence the fates of men, are more important than those distant flickering lights which will never touch this hidden sanctuary. Xiao’er knows this, so he bears their teasing.

But his curiosity does not abate. He wants to walk among those thousand lanterns. He wants to touch those stars.

#xiao xingchen #mdzs fic #fanfic #will throw this up on ao3 too though it's short

4 notes · View notes

blacknovelist · 3 years

Text

Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

3 notes · View notes

jackie02009 · 1 year

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Aster by Firmiana Black and White Polka Dot Cold Shoulder Tunic Top Size Large.

0 notes

peaches-of-1 · 5 years

Text

Peachtober | Day 14: Overgrown

Black!Reader x Monster Woo

Summary: Monster Woo is a simple man who sells flowers for a living and you are an Instagram photographer. Your models’ faces are better known than you yourself, but Woo wants to see what’s behind the camera.

Genre: Fluff

Moodboard and reaction requests open! Mstrlst in bio!

During a sunny Spring Day, a new shipment of flowers come in at 꽃벌 (play on words of flower and bee). It is the largest one since it is the start of the season. Valentine's Day is long gone, and White Day was a hit. All of the red and white roses being 70% of the seasonal inventory and now going back to its regular 40% since roses would sell no matter what season or occasion.

Youngwoo rolled up his burgundy sleeves to help the part time worker carry large sacks of fertilizer and dirt into the back while she balanced seedlings and vases under her arms and even atop her coily buzzcut.

“Naveah, once you’re done bringing in all the pots, can you start organizing them please?” He asked.

“Sure, Big Daddy.” She replied.

The tall man sighed, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Naveah just smiled in response and continued to carry the rest of the product until the truck was empty. Then she began sorting pots by height and material while Woo worked on answering calls and writing down some new clients and jobs they were wanted for. A few weddings, a birthday, two divorce parties. One he turned down because they were planning on burning flowers, and he could never imagine putting his beautiful gifts through that.

A young woman about 20 or older came in dressed in purple slacks, heels to match, and a white shirt. Her typha colored hand reaching into her purse for her phone to check if she was at the right location.

She entered the store and Woo told the woman on the phone, “One second.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, I am Y/N and I run a photography blog. I was wondering if you would be interested in hiring me to take pictures of your flowers for advertising. I have experience with both still life and live models.” She said, setting her card down on the desk.

Woo picked it up and read the Hangul and the English translation. She was a photographer for sure.

“Why does your name seem so familiar?”

She gave a smile, “A few of my models have walked during Seoul Fashion Week this past bit cuz they saw my photos.”

He smiled, “Ah, right. It seems like with a face like yours, you would be the one in front of the camera.”

Y/N began to blush, “Oh, um. Thank you.”

The two just stared at each other and smiled for a moment before she spoke up.

“Well, I should get going. You have a phone call to get back to.”

Woo nodded, “Oh, right. Yes. It was nice meeting you and I will be in contact.”

The woman left and the florist finished the call, thankful they hadn't hung up. Y/N...jeez she was beautiful.

The sound of a glass vase breaking snapped the tall man out of his daze. He sighed and called out the worker's name before heading over to get the broom to hand to her.

After work, Woo locked up and said farewell to his worker before taking a taxi home. Before going to bed, he looked up the Instagram page that was on the card Y/N gave him.

She was really good. Like, it was so much better than he had expected. Pictures of flowers in vases and people and so many beautiful faces. A lot of her stuff was currently flower based. It seemed she didn’t delete the stuff from her early days either. The camera quality had gome up so much too. Woo couldn’t help but like one of them that made him think of a tattoo. Wait, no.

It was from 4 years ago! She was going to think he was a creep! No, no. Y/N wouldn’t do that, right? It was just a possible employer checking out an employee’s past work to see if it would affect his current business. He made up his mind. Woo would hire the beautiful black girl to work for his company. All of his current photos were taken by him and Naveah, so they weren’t that great. If they could up the photo quality of the inventory, then they would sell more.

The large man soon fell asleep thinking about what floral arrangements he would make for each tier. Each one was linked with a color, so he could make it monochrome. Or maybe most of that color. Y/N looked really cute in purple. Hair like an allium.

The next day at the shop, Youngwoo called her while setting up the flowers he would use for this week’s specialty arrangement.

“Hello, this is Photobomb Productions, Y/N speaking.” She said in English and then repeated it in Korean.

Woo smiled, “Hello. This is Youngwoo from 꽃벌. I would like to take you up on your offer of becoming our floral photographer. I have been meaning to take some new pics for some summer deals.”

He could hear her squaling out of excitement in the background and then she cleared her throat and talked professionally, “That is great to hear. What day or time would the photographic subjects be ready for me to photograph?”

“Today is Friday, so I will be busy all weekend. I can get them done by either Tuesday or Wednesday since I already have sketches. All I have to do it put them together.”

“Perfecto! How does Tuesday at 2pm sound?” Y/N asked.

Woo looked at his schedule, “I have a delivery at 1:30 in the afternoon, but I will probably have my worker handle that one.”

“I see. Alright, well, I will see you then. Do not hesitate to call me if we have to move it to Wednesday. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Woo replied and the woman hung up.

“Who was that, Big Daddy?” his worker asked, carrying in a box of seeds to set up in the seed bin near the front.

He rolled his eyes, “That woman who came in yesterday. A photographer. She’s gonna take photos for us from now on. I’m gonna be up late drafting up a contract and then we’ve gotta--” The tattooed florist sighed. “I shouldn’t bore you with technicalities. Let’s get these arrangements done.”

“Let me bring over the vases.” The short haired woman said.

Woo looked at the workbench, “Neveah, where are the Calla Lilies?” he asked after her.

“We had two weddings that wanted them, so we are getting an emergency shipment in, but not until tomorrow.” She replied, making sure the seed packets fell flat before adding more on.

He nodded, “Right. Right. Um…” then he remembered the thought he had last night and went to a sky blue bucket and picked out a bulbous purple flower with a long stem. “We’ll use these today instead.”

And so for the next few minutes before the sign was flipped, the two made matching arrangements. Neveah had always wanted to do more now that her probation was up. Woo’s shop was known for flowers and arrangements, served weddings of all types and even funerals. The most important thing about it was who it employed, however. Former convicts and people who were needed someplace to work while on probation.

Youngwoo believed that everyone deserved a second chance and that humans could change, which is why he hired who he did.

“Ah, it didn’t come out as well as yours.” Neveah said as hers had a bit of a bend in the long stem and just seemed overall more messy than the one her boss made.

“Don’t worry about it. This is only the third one you’ve ever made, so I think you did really well. In fact, yours will go on the box instead of mine so people will see it first.” The man set hers onto the white wooden box in the window and placed his next to it.

Dark pink roses and sunflowers graced the top of the white vase with solid aster placed in here and there. The allium rested above each one like a proud head. They would stay in the front for the week and then they would be dead and turned into compost for a nearby flower nursery.

The woman smiled and then it was time to flip the sign. Business didn’t pick up until around lunch which was the usual thing. People buying either a single flower or a dozen on the way to a date. When Neveah left for the day, Yieun clocked in and hugged Woo having started this business together before she tried and failed to become an idol.

“Is the car filled up yet? Remember, I have to drop off some stuff for a business meeting and a 16th birthday today.” She said.

“It’s all packed up and ready to go. Feel free to double check, but it had been pretty quiet today.” He replied. “Ah, are there business cards still inside?”

Tuesday came, and Woo was nervous to see her again. They had talked over the phone for the past couple of days to finalize things. Y/N was really kind but he could tell how much her work meant to her. It was a small business that she was ultimately running on her own and often didn’t get paid for her time because people hardly ever took the arts seriously. Photography was no exception.

People thought it was just sitting in good lighting, point and click, which it wasn’t.

Woo had three different arrangements made for each color level. White, green, purple, and yellow. Each added the amount of flower types and the default price was a clear glass vase. A custom vase color/type would cost $3 extra. The second and third were in custom vases and set up in the workshop.

It was extra clean for today and there were no arrangements to be made. Mondays through Wednesdays were the slowest of the slow most of the time. That meant today was perfect for Y/N to come in.

She arrived right on time in a yellow long sleeve top tucked into a rainbow skirt and white and rainbow shoes. Rainbow accessories too, but carrying a duffle bag of work stuff.

Yieun was out on her current delivery, so Woo fixed his brows and hair before greeting her with a poliot bow.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you doing today? Have you eaten?” He asked.

“I am doing well, and yes I have. I went to a taco place. It was good, but the sauce stained the jacket I was wearing.” The woman sighed, tying her hair back before she set up everything.

It wasn’t the most glamorous thing, but Woo asked if he could watch. She said as long as he stayed behind the camera, it was ok. However, the man wasn’t watching the flowers, but instead watched how she worked. The way she bent over to get a better angle from her tripod and set up the lights.

She seemed so delicate, like she herself was a rose petal in need of much care. However, they way she pursed her lips seemed to go perfectly like thorns. The man knew she wasn’t thinking about him. Her eyes were on the flowers, but at the same time, Y/N was all he could think about for the past week.

Sometimes his imagination would try to run away with the idea of her, but that wasn’t fair to her. He barely knew her last name.

The shy and strong Woo was enchanted by the photographer. Ah, he wanted to say something to her. To ask her out, but she was so professional. This was just work for her, and he didn’t want to get in the way of her job. Still, wasn’t it worth a chance to at least get a proper answer instead of wondering “What if?”

“No, no.”

“Um, Youngwoo? Can you help raise this up a bit more?” She reached her brown hand towards the top of the light.

As the taller man helped her, he decided to just go for it, “Hey, um, Y/N. Feel free to say no, but I was um. I was wondering if you would possibly maybe want to go on a sort of kind of date with me?”

“Oh, um, sure. Right there is good.”

Woo tightened the stand, and she began taking pictures again.

“What kind of place were you thinking?” She asked. “Y’know, for our date? Dinner and a movie?”

“I’d like to take you on a picnic. I know it’s sort of cliche, but Han River is really nice and there’s usually some nice busking that goes on there.” He said was her felt his heart beat outside of his chest, “I am leaving the shop to Yieun and a part timer this weekend. We can do it then.”

Y/N smiled up at him as she stood on the other side of the arrangement, “Sounds like a plan, Youngwoo. I shall wear a dress.”

“You can wear anything you want. I’m sure you’ll look great.” The man answered earnestly.

A surprised smile before Yieun called for him. Woo said he’d be right back and went to go talk to his co-worker about what had to be done. It wasn’t much. Just a bit of organizing here and there and sweeping. Simple things that took a while.

“By the way~” She whispered. “Did you ask her out? Niveah said she’s all you talk about.”

“I did.” He replied, playing coy.

“And? Did she say yes?”

A smile broke out on his face, “She did.”

Yieun put her hands up for a high five and asked for details one their hands met in celebration.

The following days, Woo kept sending his friend photos for potential outfits. She kept telling him to ditch the dress shirts because he looked awkward in them. It was just a casual thing, so he went with some gray sneakers, khakis, and a black and white striped top. Because of the pollen forecast, he opted out of contacts and just wore his glasses. The most expensive thing he wore was his gold watch from a birthday.

He had decided on a simple picnic instead of the ferry for dinner. Maybe if things went well, but he didn't wanna look too far ahead. He knew of a spot away from the main busy area where a few weeping willows provided the perfect shade.

“Youngwoo-ssi!” Her familiar voice called.

The man was breathless as could be as Y/N walked towards him, her copper skin covered in a blue and white dress that allowed for her arm to be bare except for a gold and white bracelet. Simple makeup other than a pink matte lip that accented her smile.

They bowed and greeted each other.

“You look...amazing.” He couldn’t help but stared.

“Thank you. You look great, too. I think this is my first time seeing you without an apron on.” She replied.

Woo smiled in response, “Thank you. I have a super special spot for us. A friend told me about it.”

She smiled, “Sounds great.”

“Have you had any other clients lately?” He asked.

“Oh my gosh, so I had this really sweet woman come in yesterday with her pregnant wife so that we can do the pregnancy announcement pictures and stuff. This is fine. I had it set up and such for that because she made an appointment.”

The tall man smiled, “Oh, that is really nice.”

“However, she went into labor in the middle of me taking the photos.”

“She what?”

“Right?

Woo asked, “Did she not know she was going to give birth?”

Y/N shrugged dramatically, “I guess not, but luckily, my next door neighbor is in her last year of training to become a nurse. She helped to deliver the baby in my bathtub.” She laughed. “I spent most of the day cleaning it.”

Both of them laughed at the whole story. That’s what it was like to have an at home studio as a photographer.

“Ah, here it is.”

Behind the leaves of a willow tree, there was a perfect little alcove where a red gingham blanket was spread out and food was separated between the two in the form of sandwiches. Conversation flowed smoothly as the overgrown tree provided shade for the couple that fate decided to put together. They talked about work and of family.

Kim Youngwoo blushed when she complimented him on being a good person, taking in people society had rejected because of a series of bad mistakes.

He told her about how he just wanted to help people like him, how the U.S. basically deported him back to Korea because of--

“I don’t care what you did, Youngwoo.” Y/N said honestly. “You’re obviously not the same person you were back then, or at least you are doing much better. Besides, that isn’t the person I’m starting fall for.”

“Who are you starting to fall for?” Woo asked, hoping his heart was beating for all the right reasons.

She bit her lip and then looked up at him after hesitating to say the truth, “You.”

#Monster Woo #Woo Fam #Kim Youngwoo #Monster Woo x Reader #Reader x Monster Woo #Youngwoo x Reader #Reader x Youngwoo #Florist!AU #Black!Reader #Female!Reader #Photographer!Reader #Instagram #Fluff #cuteness #Peachtober #Inktober '19 #Inktober #Inktober 2019

103 notes · View notes

comfy-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Attic 1

[Some time after Truth.]

“There’s my pretty pet. How are you this morning?”

Ellis smiled. It was a practised, easy smile. It was almost real. “Good, thank you, Master.”

“Wonderful. Were you good last night?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master nodded. “In that case, today is the day. Let’s get you out of this cupboard.”

Ellis’s eyes widened, but he stayed on his knees. It wouldn’t do to get excited and break a rule – two rules – by standing up without permission. He waited, hands folded, arranged carefully so that he didn’t irritate his burns.

“Stand up for me,” Master said. He’d paused deliberately, to make sure Ellis was still going to be good, and he was so proud that he’d passed the test. He got to his feet slowly, careful not to fall. Kneeling for so long made his ankles ache badly, but he could stand. It was an order.

“Follow me,” Master said, holding his gaze. “Do not touch anything.”

He turned and led the way towards the door, and when he opened it, daylight washed over Ellis’s face for the first time in weeks. His eyes watered, stinging from the brightness, and from the primal joy of being out of the dark. He almost stumbled, but blinked rapidly and refocused. He had to be good, to show he could be trusted with this.

He looked around, realising for the first time that they were in a large hallway. His room was off next to the stairs, but around him were other doors, even one to the outside that he carefully kept his eyes away from, in case he looked too hopeful. He put his eyes back on Master, following him as they climbed the staircase, a wide wooden structure that swept at a curving ninety-degree angle.

Master’s house was large, he realised. Another reason to be grateful. He saw a bedroom pass, but Master kept going, so he did too. Walking so far was hard, his legs already aching, but it was different, so different that he was still thankful.

“I can’t let you roam the house freely,” Master said, sounding regretful about it. “I’d like to, but we both know you can’t be trusted yet. You could hurt yourself, or try to escape, in a moment of weakness. I need you to be better than that, before I can let you move around on your own.”

Ellis didn’t reply, because he hadn’t been asked a question. But he silently agreed. Even just walking up the stairs was exhausting, and the echoing space around them was alarming after so long in the close dark.

“Here,” Master said, as they reached a ladder. “This will be your room, my lovely.”

Ellis looked apprehensively at the ladder. Could he climb this?

“What’s wrong, pet?”

He flinched, looking back to his Master, who was frowning in concern.

“May I go up, please?”

“Of course. Careful now.”

Ellis put a hand around the ladder’s side, and then hesitated. His arm felt weak, his legs tired. When had he become so pathetic?

He looked back to the man who gave him security in this place. “Please, Master,” he said nervously. “Will you help me?”

To his profound relief, the response was a warm smile. “I’ll help you, sweetness. I’ll be right behind you if you fall.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Tears were in his eyes again. He was so safe, when his Master was here, kept safely in his own head. He pulled himself onto the first step, and winced at the way it pulled on his back, the pain of a spine that had barely moved in weeks being forced to bend.

“Keep going, pet,” came the encouraging voice from behind him. “I’m here.”

Ellis swallowed, and pulled himself up again, bringing the other foot onto the ladder. Oh, that was scary, the metal seeming frail, his weight making it creak. No, he had to do it. Master said he could.

He reached up and clenched one sweaty hand around a high rung to help himself lift up. Like climbing the stairs, he thought, just climbing some more stairs, next leg up, arms keeping him steady, Master’s voice keeping him grounded: “Good boy, next step, come on.”

Was there a hint of impatience in that voice, now? Ellis couldn’t be sure. He pushed himself harder, dragging his body upwards, arms beginning to tremble with the strain. When he was finally able to reach the top he gasped in relief, crawling over the lip of the hatch onto the floor, panting on his hands and knees.

Master rose behind him, switching on the light. Ellis looked through his watering eyes to see a plain attic, bare boards and roof beams showing, insulation covered only for one middle section walled by large boxes. In the centre was a thin sponge mattress, a bottle of water, and a shoebox.

The sound of a lighter striking behind him made him freeze. He fell back onto his knees, turning to see, to check –

“Arm,” his Master said, voice flat.

Ellis shivered, but he held his arm out, resigned to the punishment. His mind scrabbled for understanding. What had he done?

The cigarette pressed into his skin before Master had taken a single drag. It had been lit just to punish him, Ellis realised with a painful spasm, as the initial skin-shock numbness turned into a hot, searing pain. He’d done this, it was his fault.

“Panting like you did,” Master said, lifting the cigarette and driving it down again an inch to the left, grinding up the charred fragments of Ellis’s skin. “On hands and knees, like a wild animal, do you think that’s acceptable behaviour, pet?”

Oh – oh, rule three, rule five. Don’t stammer, don’t stammer. “No, hnn, Master,” Ellis gasped, eyes fixed on the black-red patch of skin with its white traces of ash. “I’m s-sorry, Master, thank you, Ma-aster.”

“Speak properly!” his Master snapped, the hand around Ellis’s wrist tightening to bruising force. “I try to teach you, I try to protect you, why do you throw it all back in my face like this? Do you want to be a monster for the rest of your life, hurting others because it feels good? Should I just give up on you?”

Ellis couldn’t hide the panic at those words, the way it hit him harder than the pain. “No,” he heaved immediately, voice high in need, “no, please Master, don’t-” He cuts himself off before the stammer makes his words shake. Don’t let him go, he couldn’t live like this, waking up each night to find himself beating strangers for fun. If this man could stop him, could fix him – he’d do anything.

When Master let his arm go, he let it fall into his lap. He stayed on his knees, head down, arms tucked in. Pain throbbed through to his shoulder. They’d reached his right elbow today, and the thin skin seared as if the cigarette was still there. Ellis knew it would keep hurting for hours to come.

Master left him there, teary-eyed and kneeling, snapping off the light, and the hatch slammed shut.

#BAD ellis tut tut tut #whump #pet whump #dehumanisation #punishment #burn #stammering #kneeling #overstimulation #by the way for anyone keeping score that's one and a half arms covered in burns now #ellis #alistair #ellis: attic #my fic

41 notes · View notes