#Brochure Holders

[talentos]

Descubre el LEGO McLaren P1: Un Tesoro de Colección

Construye el legado de la velocidad con el LEGO Technic McLaren P1 Hypercar 🏎️. Aprende, colecciona y exhibe con estilo en la caja CAD-CAM de SIMEVISA. ¡Perfecta para proteger tus tesoros! 🌟 #LEGO #McLarenP1 #Coleccionismo #Exhibidores #Educación

Ing. José María Noriega El set de construcción LEGO Technic McLaren P1 Hypercar no solo es una pieza impresionante que cautiva a los entusiastas de los autos y las construcciones complejas, sino que también simboliza valores educativos y de superación que inspiran a las generaciones.¡Protege tus valiosos tesoros de colección con nuestras cajas, capelos y vitrinas para coleccionistas y disfruta…

[autozcrave]

Now, InstaVizion offers an easy, fast turnaround and affordable video brochure solution for short run projects. Easily add or change your video via Micro USB

[watchanimeonlineforfree]

Capture immediate attention and bring the future to the present with our Video Boards, Transparent Video Displays, Kiosks, and more.

[pleasantplastic1111]

Elevating Corporate Recognition: The Irresistible Appeal of Customized Acrylic Trophies in Dubai

In the bustling corporate landscape of Dubai, recognizing and rewarding exceptional achievements is paramount to fostering a culture of excellence. When it comes to corporate recognition, customized acrylic trophies suppliers in Dubai have gained irresistible appeal among businesses in Dubai. These trophies go beyond traditional awards, offering a unique blend of elegance, versatility, and personalization that elevates the recognition experience for both recipients and organizations.

One of the key factors contributing to the irresistible appeal of customized acrylic trophies is their aesthetic allure. Acrylic, a versatile material, allows for endless design possibilities. Suppliers in Dubai can craft acrylic trophies in various shapes, sizes, and colors, ensuring that each trophy is a visually stunning work of art. Whether it’s a sleek, modern design or a more intricate and ornate style, these trophies capture attention and exude a sense of prestige and sophistication.

Customization is another compelling aspect that sets acrylic trophies apart. Suppliers like “Pleasant Plastic” offer businesses the opportunity to tailor trophies to their specific needs and branding. Company logos, emblems, or personalized engravings can seamlessly incorporate into the trophy design, creating a sense of exclusivity and personal connection. This level of customization allows organizations to reinforce their brand identity while honoring their employees’ exceptional accomplishments.

Durability is yet another irresistible feature of acrylic trophies. Unlike fragile glass or heavy metal trophies, acrylic trophies are lightweight and resistant to breakage. This makes them highly durable and long-lasting, ensuring that the recognition bestowed upon employees or partners remains intact for years to come. Additionally, the lightweight nature of acrylic trophies facilitates easy handling, transportation, and display, making them a practical choice for corporate events and ceremonies.

The widespread appeal of customized acrylic trophies is also attributed to their cost-effectiveness. Acrylic is a more affordable material compared to crystal or metal without compromising on quality or aesthetics. This affordability allows businesses in Dubai to recognize multiple individuals or teams without stretching their budgets. It also enables organizations to invest in larger quantities of trophies, supporting a culture of appreciation and motivation throughout the company.

Customized acrylic trophies have an irresistible appeal in Dubai’s corporate recognition landscape. Businesses like to match up the acrylic trophy allure with Acrylic Brochure Holder to give the event an extra oomph. By choosing customized acrylic trophies, businesses in Dubai can showcase their commitment to excellence, reinforce their brand identity, and create a lasting symbol of achievement that resonates with recipients and inspires future success.

[herpsandbirds]

The wildlife refuge had a greeter to say hello.

(The Pacific Chorus Frogs are just finishing up their metamorphosis, and were literally everywhere, but I appreciated this lad hanging out on the brochure holders)

That's awesome! And Nisqually NWR is a really beautiful place.

Pacific Tree Frog (Pseudacris regilla), family Hylidae, Washington State, USA.

[mrrharper]

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

[deatherella]

Deatherella Does DOTY - Rd 3

A new mid-century oval hairpin leg desk. It's a one-tile desk made from the tabletop from another conversion I did and the hairpin legs are from an awesims conversion by @shastakiss. The legs are steel as they were in the 70's. Lots of formica tops and atomic style formica textures for it, too. My entry was a 1970's based mid century modern travel agency. On the wall is a 4to2 conversion of blacky's Magazine Holder. I made it have two subsets. And, you can see one of the recolors I did of @hcove 's S3t2 MidCentury Dining Chair. I made recolors of the chair in the Pushing Daisies pallette.

Tons of recolors for the Bon Voyage travel poster. Travel posters using places in all Sims games (google search) with some from Vector Stock that I made Sims themed. And a recolor for Mog's shop sign mesh.

A 3to2 conversion of enable_llama's Curve Kitchen. The counters are actually end tables since the originals had no countertops. The left and right curved ends are repo'd to the base couter. There are cabinets, with the curved ends repo'd to the center one. I made a shelf using Mutske's Expedit's Add-Ons' shelf mesh. If you look in the prev showing recolors, you'll see I tweaked the shelf mesh to be the same hieght as the cabinets and took out the divider wood in the middle since the bottom shelf has only one slot. The cabinets, counters, and shelf come in AL woods, and polar formica (found an actual mid-century formica to use) in Pushing Daisies pallette colors, and the original color and recolor. You can, also, see on the edge of the prev, recolors for @thecrimsonsparkles' Simple Magazine Shelf that I edited to have two subsets. I made some add-ons to a cup I converted in the past - three cups and five cups in a row repo'd to the original single cup. They have some travel orientated recolors. There are brochures laying on the desks and table I made using menu meshes by @nekosayuri. from their signs set.

AL woods recolors of curiousB's Awesims Mid Centruy endtables conversion. All necessary meshes included, swatches and previews, too. Download Round 3 Goodies Download Polar Formica textures for your own use.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

TA claimed that miraculous are not indestructible and that the line in Queen Wasp was an error. However, it's hard to believe it when every occasions where miraculous is destroyed/broken, it was using Cataclysm (The bee in Queen Wasp, the rabbit in Timetagger though only mentioned, and the turtle in Optigami)

While the first two can be seen as situational, as Chat was there to fight the bee and the rabbit was an accident, the turtle raised that doubt, since why would LB go all the way to Chat to Cataclysm it if she can just destroy it herself?

I believe the official story behind the peacock getting broken is that it happened in the below scene, so the show does support the idea that things other than a cataclysm can destroy a miraculous:

[Image description: a scene from Fu's memories taken from the episode Feast. In this memory, we see Fu jumping over a chasm full of lava. Feast is seen falling into that chasm along with the guardian's Grimoire. The episode implies that the butterfly and the peacock also fell into the chasm and we do see the miracle box open with several miraculous flying through the air.]

We're going to ignore the fact that the Grimoire should have burned up in the lava and focus on the miraculous-based lore implication instead.

I don't hate the idea that something like lava can destroy a miraculous since that's not exactly an abundant and easily-accessible resource, but I still wouldn't go that route with the lore because it raises questions like: why did the butterfly survive undamaged? And why was the peacock only minorly damaged and not destroyed? And what kind of things can destroy a miraculous? Is it just lava or are their other things that can do the trick? Or can normal things only damage a miraculous, but only a cataclysm can destroy them? If normal, worldly things can hurt the miraculous, then do they get damaged by the passage of time?

I could keep going, but I think I've made my point. It's just so much better for the lore to be that miraculous are generally indestructible with Plagg's power being the only exception. I genuinely think that was the original lore. My money is that Feast was a retcon as they probably hadn't fully figured out the peacock's backstory prior to season three and it would be far better for the lore to be what it was stated to be in Queen Wasp:

Cat Noir: I bet the Akuma's in her Miraculous. Ladybug: That makes sense, but Miraculous are indestructible. We will need your Cataclysm to release the Akuma.

Quick reminder: Queen Wasp came a full season before Feast, that's why my money is on retcon. I'm not even sure if they'd decided that the peacock was damaged before season two since it's not show to be damaged when we first see it back in Volpina and that is a horribly missed opportunity for quality, subtle foreshadowing (ignoring the whole issue of Plagg somehow not being able to sense that the peacock miraculous is RIGHT THERE and - as far as we know - not tied to a holder):

[Image description: the contents of the secret safe behind Emilie's picture. We see a brochure for Tibet, a picture of Emilie, the fully intact peacock miraculous, and the guardian's Grimoire. Plagg is also in the image as this comes from the scene where he helps Adrien break into the safe.]

Meanwhile the Evolution flashback - and every other peacock moment I could think to check - shows it to clearly be damaged as you would expect:

[Image description: the peacock miraculous sitting in Gabriel's hand, clearly broken]

Admittedly Evolution shows us the back while Volpina shows us the front and it's possible that the damage was somehow only on the back in spite of the whole falling into lava thing. There's also the issue that the miraculous design changes from nine feathers to five, implying that the thing in the safe may not even be the peacock? Idk, it's weird. Everything about the peacock story line feels slapdash up to and including how it got damaged in the first place. I think they did have some general ideas that never changed, but I don't think they'd properly worked them out to the level they should have to avoid inconsistencies.

To be fair, if this was the most inconsistent the lore got, I wouldn't have much to talk about because it's not terrible. The pre-Adrien part of the peacock story is decent enough for TV (which is part of the reason I don't watch much TV, lol).

TV shows have pretty limited writing schedules, so it's not uncommon for more minor errors like this to pop up, especially when the writers have no idea how many seasons they're going to have to write, which makes it hard to tell a story well. The writers often don't have the knowledge or even time needed to polish things to a mirror shine. Remember, almost nothing else in the production line can start until the writing is done, so writing is generally a really small early part of total production time. Just the nature of the beast.

[samuhelll]

sam’s office. his office is split into two parts: the waiting room outside and his office deep within the belly of the not-insurance office, not-laundromat.

the waiting room. immediately outside the building, plastered over the storefront windows, are painted-on-or-stenciled ketchup-mustard letters. CROKER INSURANCE AGENCY. LIFE IN A JAM? GOTTA HAVE SAM.

inside smells vaguely of laundry detergent. there’s vaguely ecclesiastical music warbling from mysteriously unseen loudspeakers. there are too many dentist waiting-room chairs here than there ever are people, but that’s because sam’s generous. a water cooler sits off to the side. also: a perpetually sputtering keurig machine with a weave basket of k-cups.

something like a receptionist’s desk looms towards the left wall with an out-of-date noodle-spiral phone. does anyone even work here?

his office. sam’s shameless. sam’s tacky. walk through the front door, and in your face: cocoa herringbone floors with a velveteen runner cleaving up the room. an airport runway. at the end of this is a large walnut desk — think the headmaster of an english prep school — peppered with a plastic business card holder, brochures on grief, and a novelty thank-you-mug-turned-pencil-holder. behind that, a presidential half-oval wall lined with art that may or may not belong in the sistine chapel. impossibly tactless? sure. impressively audacious? absolutely. no arched ceiling, but he has wallpaper frescos.

where the half-oval turns into a straight wall on either side are fake, ornamental gates coated in 90s-faux-gold stickers. they don’t function.

a recliner sits closer to the door. this is off-limits. walmart framed photos artfully decorate each jewel-ficus wall, all of them featuring him with presumably happy clients, not too much, not too little. he has a bookshelf featuring texts in tens of different languages. can he read them?

also, it’s too dark in here. like he’s afraid if he installed more lights, you’ll start seeing all the cracks and tacky sheen. there’s a pocket to the right with a floral couch-armchair set and a nightstand.

a stained-glass window divides his office from the waiting room.

-

tl;dr: think of sa//ul good//man’s office, but instead of WE THE PEOPLE and lawyerly, it’s tastelessly phony religious.

[ponyatowski]

stuff on my desk wrapped because im finally cleaning it first time in like a few months:

3 LOOSE nickles

lots of paper towels covered in paint

tinnitus meds

various fabric patches cause i had to fix a hole in my tote bag

TWO little pallets ive used to mix gouache

ONE chestnut

ONE EMPTY JAR

ONE paintbrush and ONE tube of acrylic paint i forgor about

crossword sheet

my moomin calendar

ANOTHER paintbrush i forgot about damn

some sort of powdered nutrient for flowers lol

spanish textbook

broken fish keychain:(

plane stickers

a ruler

A FOURTH LOOSE NICKEL!

wet napkins (omfg i was looking for them recently)

my very cute post stamps stickers<333

A LOT of post-its

washing machine instructions

leftover box from a cup i got from a friend for my birthday (thats where i put my stickers)

toy assembly kit i got for christmas

tea box i use to store my candy

ONE charger

used up lip balm

lint roller bought specifically for the purpose of removing my friends cats hair from my sweater

moomin tealight holder<3

a lot of erasers i dont use because theyre hard as rock

half eaten chocolate bar

museum tickets

another planner (this one has motivational quotes inside)

charcoal

little thingies to smudge charcoal

black nail polish

my neighbors keys that i still havent given back lol

watch i havent used in a year

mini sketchbook

musical brochure

latin excercises

A LOT OF PENCILS

HEYYYY FOUND MY POCKET KNIFE

silly doggy mug where i store my pens

random postcards from białystok i wanted to put on my wall and forgot about

3 different books about my favorite polish painter (mehoffer) that i occasionally remember about

ONE book about the słowackiewicz christmas party

nintendo switch

my old broken glasses + my new gorjus beautiful new glasses

More postcards

computer mouse

pliers from when i was making pins

OK THATS ALL I THINK. LOL

[autozcrave]

Incorporating an embedded screen in your brochures and greeting cards will distinguish you from all other media. With zero distractions, this innovative approach surprises the senses and instantly captivates your audience.

[watchanimeonlineforfree]

Now, InstaVizion offers an easy, fast turnaround and affordable video brochure solution for short run projects. Easily add or change your video via Micro USB

[gregdotorg]

I make a couple of audio projects reading art-related texts aloud, and thought I'd do an episode with the brochure for Scott Burton's 1989 MoMA exhibition about Brancusi's pedestal-bases, but it got all screwed up, producing more anxiety than relief, and anyway, just read it yourself.

Anyway, I mostly wanted to publish this installation photo with the scultpure/base Burton made for two Brancusi birds—and his brochure holders.

[theclaravoyant]

for historical ineffables…. may I humbly request 1920s feat. flapper!crowley? (any pronouns)

AN ~ you certainly may !! in fact whoops I have a huge crush on flapper!crowley 🫡 💋 (she/her for this one)

special guest appearance : trains 🚂

prompt me: historical ineffables

-

Aziraphale arrived at the requested train station with the note still crunched in his hand. The familiar curl of the handwriting was engraved behind his eyelids. Of course, he’d only looked over the words so many times to try and decipher some hidden meaning; perhaps this was a trap or a threat of some sort from his worthy adversary. It was only his duty to investigate.

(It had nothing to do with the smile he imagined playing on Crowley’s lips as he penned it; I have a surprise for you.)

More than one surprise, apparently, as when he found the demon at the bar she was using a new and different form. A variation on a theme. The long lines of Crowley’s elegant frame were accentuated by the cigarette holder she twirled between her fingers, and contrasted boldly to the short finger-waves of her flame-red hair. A black and silver Gatsby dress draped over her slender form as if she had been the very model for them… only, the hem rested lower than one would typically wear this style so as to obscure the definitely normal human feet and legs Crowley sported. Not that anyone would notice of course. Certainly not Aziraphale, who was certainly not looking.

“My eyes are up here, Angel,” Crowley said, by way of greeting. She wore a practiced, small, almost sarcastic smile, but they had been seeing a lot more of each other lately and Aziraphale knew her honest eyes by now, even behind the glasses. She was happy to see him, and for some reason that made his cheeks feel unseasonably warm.

“Happy to see you too.” Aziraphale cast an eye across the bar, whose tender only met his in passing; well practiced in deliberately not paying too much attention. He pulled out the seat beside Crowley, and belatedly realised he was still holding that blasted note. If she noticed as he tucked it away - which she definitely did - she didn’t say anything. Simply raised a hand to request the Reisling, for my friend.

“Keeping a low profile then, I see,” Aziraphale said. He meant it to be scolding, but it sounded rather more impressed. If he knew Crowley, and he rather liked to think he did, that was how she took it too.

“Low profile was never in my job description,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s a sign of the times isn’t it? We’ll be voting next, they reckon.”

Aziraphale snorted. “You’ve never voted a day in your life.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Crowley shrugged, and took a sip of her old fashioned. “Which brings me to my next point.”

She reached inside her - for this part, Aziraphale really wasn’t watching - and pulled out a few slips of paper. It was a brochure, and two tickets for the Orient Express. Before he could help himself his jaw dropped and he whipped open the brochure, poring over the stunning molding and scenery promised aboard the luxury vessel. It even promised a tour of the history and workings of the steam engine, for VIPs - which of course, per their tickets, they were.

“I love trains,” he breathed. “Marvellous clever things, don’t you think?”

Crowley was almost laughing, watching him, and she didn’t do that much. His cheeks felt warm again all of a sudden and his hand began to shake, realising what he was holding. The smile on his lips died a little. Crowley’s did too. She tried to face eyes-forward instead, and hoped he didn’t push the tickets back across at her.

“You- You shouldn’t have.” Aziraphale’s chest felt tight. Crushing.

“It’s nothing,” Crowley said, and shrugged. “I have business in Constantinople, and word has it you do too. I thought perhaps I might like some company. That’s all.”

He should have said I’m not ‘company’.

What he said was; “Well, if it’s business.”

He raised his glass in toast, and clinked it against Crowley’s.

[ponds-of-ink]

Notre Dame AU Chapter 5: “An Evening in The Castle”

Hey, here’s a quick head’s up before we start: Expect two more chapters tonight and Thursday morning.. Unless Ruin news hits me in the head at break-neck speed. Then there’ll be a bit of radio silence until further notice.

..Even if I do end up posting on time, there’ll still be radio silence because Ruin teaser.

Anyway, let’s see how Gregory’s doing before I start making less sense...

A couple of hours passed. The bells rang with a more melancholic air as Gregory sat there in a distant section of the hall. A few visitors came and went, but none were allowed to interact with the boy in the corner. An expected result of his plea for safety.

So there Gregory stayed. Alone. Contemplating the boy dubbed “46”.

...For a couple more minutes, at least. With only one clear audio recording and not much speculation to glean from, the topic was getting dull by now. “If only I could talk to someone,” he thought as his eyes lazily drifted up to the tinted windows. “Then maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.”

He rose to his feet and observed his surroundings. While these windows were not as grand as the church’s, their towering height and naturally sunny glow left an impression on him. Same went for the golden-flamed candles strewn about the walls. Both of these things provided a sense of warmth in this otherwise bleak and cold chamber. “At least there’s something here to keep me busy, I guess,” he thought as he walked towards an empty booth littered with themed attraction brochures and era-fitting props. “I’ve been to every other place in this mall, but I guess a little reading wouldn’t hurt.”

As he skimmed through the list of locales, one of them seemed to weasel its way out of its holder. His eyebrows raised as he watched it break free and float on its own. He backed up slowly, then stopped. “H-Hello?” he asked the unseen pamphlet carrier, weakly waving. “You, uh, want to read something too?”

The brochure froze in mid-air. It slowly lowered itself back onto the table. Then, after a few seconds of tense stillness, a small door beside the counter quickly opened up. “Hey, wait!” Gregory called out, following after with both papers in hand. “You don’t have to ditch your stuff! Come back!”

Agonia raced up the spiral stairs. “Should not have done that,” repeated over and over in his head until he reached the bell tower. He gripped one of the pillars in a panic, swinging out of a normal person’s view. “What do I do now?” he asked himself in his mind, burying his head in his hands. “It was not supposed to go like this!”

“So do most of your plans, but that’s a given,” quipped a mature voice.

Agonia lowered his hands. “Henry, please,” he snipped towards a man that seemed to be around his age. “I need help. Do I talk to him or run?”

“Well, judging from how fast that kid is, I’d say get ready to start talking,” Henry noted, pushing up his thick-rimmed glasses as he looked over his listener’s shoulder. “Hope you how to use contractions in a sentence.”

Agonia shot back an exasperated look. “But how?” he asked, subconsciously clutching his marred throat. “My voice is–“

“You’ll do fine,” Henry insisted, walking towards the edge of the railing. “Just do that miming thing you’ve been doing with Glitchtrap. Or that funny little letter system you had once.”

Agonia slumped. “I suppose I could,” he murmured as he approached the door. “However: if this goes south, this is on you.”

“Have fun,” Henry smiled jestingly, giving one parting wave. “I’ll be out here enjoying the view if you need me.”

Agonia shook his head as he entered back inside the castle. He listened as he traveled along the maze. “Where is he?” he wondered as he surveyed the empty landscape.

A loud “Boo!” from behind answered that question very quickly.

Gregory laughed as the bell-ringer “yelped” and whirled around. “I got you good, didn’t I?” he grinned slyly.

The other rolled his uneven eyes and bobbed his head to one side. Yes, yes, he did.

The scarer’s smile weakened. “So, um, here’s your thing back,” he said sheepishly, handing out the brochure. “Sorry if I made you think I was going to rat you out to that dumb rabbit guy.”

Agonia placed his hand on top of Gregory’s, then patted it gently. “Does.. that mean it’s all good?” Gregory asked slowly, repeating the gesture with his own hand.

The elder’s face lit up. He nodded rapidly with a wide smile.

“Huh!” Gregory exclaimed while he removed his hands from the bell ringer’s frail grasp. “I did not expect to be this good at ‘Guess What The Ghost’s Trying to Say’! ...N-No offense, of course. I get that your voice must be pretty messed up with.. what you’ve got.”

Agonia nodded despondently, putting a hand to his throat yet again.

“But hey!” Gregory spoke up, walking over to the sad ghost’s side. “You can ‘talk’ with these while you show me around!” He then held up his sliver of paper with a proud smile. “They should have all the words you need,” he continued as he gave both pamphlets to the ghost. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Agonia stared down at the papers in his hand. He eyed both titles, then flipped through one of the two. After a few moments of skimming, he motioned for Gregory to start walking.

Gregory quickly started, strolling alongside his newfound tour guide. His head turned this way and that, only stopping when something caught his eyes– Like a random knight in armor or a huge hole-like imprint in the floor. “This must be part of the Princess’ Challenge,” he mused as he looked back at his guide. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up here before, so this is a first for me.”

Agonia lowered his paper for the boy to see. “Really?” he ‘asked’, pointing to the exact word wedged in a lengthy paragraph.

“Yeah,” Gregory admitted casually, shrugging his shoulders. “Didn’t really think it was all that neat. I don’t mind escape rooms, but the description in the ads did not do this place justice. Made it sound like it was for really little kids.”

Agonia nodded with a mutually irked expression. Suddenly, he stopped in front of a tile puzzle guarded by four LED torches. “Wait here a moment,” he ‘instructed’, his finger darting to the words. Once he knew he got his point across, he hobbled over to the tiles. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to move the squares into their correct places. The door thunked as he returned to the dumbfounded boy. “To be fair, these are easy when you know the trick,” the guide ‘explained’, gesturing to the solved puzzle as they passed by.

Gregory glanced at the solved puzzle. He bobbed his head as his eyes skimmed the pattern. Then, realizing that his acquaintance had gone into the next room, he hurried after.

Agonia grinned as the boy rejoined his side. “Did you figure it out?” he ‘asked’ with a wink.

“Maybe,” Gregory confessed with a hint of embarrassment. “Something about some of triangles lining up with the edges of that square.”

“Pretty close,” ‘replied’ the bell-ringer. “But I can’t spoil it for you. It would ruin all the fun.”

Gregory gave a look of acknowledgment, then continued his tour. His observing of this room was very quick, save his curiosity about the two golden doors with the carved arch above. However, unlike the puzzle, neither said anything about them.

Instead, both entered the next room with little trouble. “This is where I was earlier,” Gregory explained, motioning to the ‘bridge’ on the floor. “Somebody already solved this one, so I didn’t have to do anything.”

Agonia faintly hummed in thought, slowly moving ahead of the boy and walking onto the bridge. He stomped his foot on it, then hummed again. “I’m surprised that it hasn’t reset by now,” he ‘mused’, staring at the torches nearby. “They usually do that after someone completes the challenge.”

“Maybe they’ll be reset tonight,” Gregory shrugged as he left the bridge and headed for the door.

“Maybe,” ‘repeated’ Agonia, joining the boy’s side. “In the meantime, this is it. The last section.”

“Aw, already?” Gregory pouted, crossing his arms as his guide propped open the door. “We were just starting to know each other!”

“We can still talk outside,” the bell-ringer grinned as they entered into the porch. “Besides, you need all the fresh air you can get.”

“‘Says’ the guy who doesn’t need fresh air,” Gregory retorted, half-smiling. Both went quiet as they neared the balcony’s railing. The boy took in the sights with an amazed, but wistful expression. The ghost, meanwhile, looked at the world down below with a thoughtful gaze. This silence continued for several minutes, as if both had unintentionally forgotten that the other was still there. Not really surprising since the dawning sunset made everything below look more inviting and pleasant– Empty though the streets currently were.

Gregory glanced over at the clock tower. “Looks like it’s about time for you to ring in the hour again,” he said, breaking the silence at last. “At least you won’t get in trouble for being late, huh?”

Agonia chuckled hoarsely. “Yes, no worries there,” he ‘answered’, nodding to the boy as he limped to the adjacent railing. Without another word, he jumped onto the railing and cautiously clambered back into the bell tower itself.

Gregory watched in wonder as the bell-ringer prepared for his duty. The lantern flickered as Agonia put aside the papers and lifted the rope into his hands. He watched the clock, then the boy. “Plug your ears,” he said aloud, though it was so frail and broken that you’d be forgiven for saying otherwise.

Though the voice took him off-guard, Gregory wasted no time in following that order. He blocked his ears with his hands. His body fought the urge to crouch as Agonia pulled the rope. Thundering clangs followed suit. Their sheer force almost knocked the poor boy off his feet. Seven chimes in total, but they sounded like twelve or more thanks to the kickback of the bell’s clapper. They sounded beautiful, sure, but now Gregory was starting to learn why many people preferred admiring the bells from the ground level.

As soon as the bells finished, Agonia let go of the rope and stumbled into a bow. “I’d clap, but I think those bells knocked all the energy out of me,” Gregory laughed weakly, prying off his hands from his head. “That’s gotta do something to your hearing, right?”

Realizing that they were back to having a proper conversation, Agonia hurriedly scooped up the papers. “Not if you’re a ghost,” he ‘responded’ with a slick grin. “The only thing this bell usually does to me is make me tired.”

”Huh,” Gregory responded simply, gripping onto the railing for support. Before he could form any more questions, he felt himself getting hauled up by the shoulders. He yelped in shock, but the sight of Agonia’s calm face eased him a bit. His body floated as he slowly lowered onto this new floor. “Guess I got you too, didn’t I?” the ringer ‘asked’ slyly, winking for a second time.

“Yeah, you did,” Gregory sniggered as he laid himself down on the stone floor. “Good job repaying the favor, I guess.”

The words “repaying the favor” caused Agonia to look deep in thought for a moment, but he shrugged any ideas off. “I really just did that because you looked so disoriented,” he ‘clarified’, now sitting down next to the boy. “Didn’t want you to faint next to such an unstable section of the railing. You could’ve fallen.”

“Well, thanks for looking out for me..” Gregory murmured sleepily, trying to stop himself yawning. “I had no idea.”

Agonia simply patted the boy on the hand. “How about I teach you some Latin while you try to doze off?” he ‘suggested’ before opening the other brochure.

“That’d be great, but not right now,” Gregory yawned. “I think I’ll stick with.. I dunno.. Maybe a lullaby?”

“But my voice isn’t the greatest. I thought my little warning would’ve taught you that.”

“I said ‘maybe’,” Gregory snickered softly. “Lullabies don’t.. need.. that much.. to..”

Agonia watched as the boy finally drifted off to sleep. He contemplated afterwards, peering up at the pillars and roof just above him. Then, as he looked back at the peacefully-resting child, he sighed deeply. Feeling the need to honor this request, he sung as softly as he could. A simple lullaby, but a lullaby nonetheless.

Gregory heard traces of the raspy-yet-timid crooning, but all went dark before the song finished. He found himself in a dreamless void. Unable to feel the stone floor. Or hear the hum of that ever-invisible air conditioner. An eerily comfortable solitude that flew by.

Slow, metallic footsteps broke through that void.

“Freddy?” he asked groggily, beginning to stir back into reality.

“No,” the same ragged voice answered as a hand lightly touched the boy’s shoulder. “Not Freddy.”

Gregory opened his eyes. The world had now gone from a warm golden light to a cool bluish nighttime. He had also been moved from practically underneath the bell to a doorway right outside the open chamber. The bell-ringer sat beside him, his features showcasing a mix of joy and tiredness. “Look,” the man said slowly, pointing to a corner of the door.

Mildly confused, Gregory got up and looked around that corner. To his surprise, a mishmash of metal and gunk loomed mere inches above him. “What.. is that thing?” he asked uneasily.

“Your way out,” Agonia grinned, patting the robot on the back.

“My way out?” Gregory repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, going back outside this place would be great. But isn’t that.. I dunno.. breaking Sanctuary?”

“I will take the blame for that,” ‘assured’ the ghost, finally remembering to use the pamphlets. “You need to eat, and there’s no food up here– Among other things.”

“I guess that sounds like a good reason,” Gregory shrugged. He cautiously approached the strange contraption. “So, uh, what do I do with it?” he asked, craning his neck to get a better look at its face.

“Climb onto its back.”

Using the railing like a step ladder, the boy clambered onto the machine’s shoulders. “Okay, now what?” he questioned again.

Agonia placed his hand on the thing’s head. He shut his eyes. Purple sparks flashed from its rabbit-like ears as he vanished into thin air. “Hold on tight,” it answered mechanically, looking back to the boy with its violet pupils.

Gregory wrapped his arms around its neck for dear life. The robot climbed up the nearest pillar like an acrobat ascending a large ladder. It steadied itself once it was on the roof. Its head swiveled this way and that as it crawled near the edge of the roof. Then, once its analysis proved satisfactory, it swung itself down onto a ridged side of the building. It looked back at the still-clutching Gregory, nodded to itself, then proceeded to climb down.

“I don’t mean to break your concentration or anything,” Gregory piped up quietly, “but I gotta ask: Have you done this before?”

The machine stopped, carefully shook its head, then kept descending– even as Gregory quietly griped “well, that’s comforting” directly into its ears. It continued its descent until the ground was merely a few yards away. “Going to jump,” it explained calmly. “Stay close.”

Without any other warning, the robot leapt off the building’s facade like a squirrel. It twisted its body mid-air, ensuring that it cushioned the impact of its land from the alarmed boy. Its body thumped onto the astroturf with a metallic rattle. “You are free now,” it said warmly, getting up onto its feet gingerly. “Go.”

Gregory got off the rabbit-like being’s back. “Thanks,” he replied, shaking it’s hand. “Maybe after I get everything cleared up, we can meet up back here. Hopefully with less chaos for you to deal with.”

Agonia sniggered, his voice filtering through the robot’s box. “Maybe,” he answered as he began his ascent back up the wall. “We shall see.” He paused to give one last parting wave, then kept climbing.

As Gregory hurried off into a nearby alley, the bell-ringer-turned-bunny reached the clock tower. He leapt off the railing and landed on the stone floor. His body quickly sprinted to the other side of the chamber. He leaned over the edge. Relief entered his soul. It was only thirty minutes to nine.

As small lights dotted the streets below, Agonia ensured everything was returned to normal. The bare-bones robot was put back in its place. He cheerfully returned to his duty of watching and waiting for the hour to strike. The lantern itself had its ever-glowing flame restored. Though this meant that the day filled with both misfortune and merriment was almost over, these things also meant that nothing else was going to interrupt his routine– And, more importantly, Gregory’s bizarre mission.

Of course, as he completed his task, this was a bit too much to ask with three hours left. Somehow, someway, he fumbled into a living person. A person with armor plating, no less. “So, apart from bumping into me, how are you doing?” she asked with a chuckle, brushing back a loose strand of blonde hair. “I’m looking for this boy named Gregory. I think you saw him at the festival earlier?”

Agonia double-checked the lantern. It was currently flickering, which deprived him of one concern. The other concern, however, had to be dealt with a bit more.. forcefully. At least more than the other knights that dealt with him while Gregory was being chased. He couldn’t afford to make that same mistake here.

Carefully moving around the intruder, he walked back inside the maze room. He listened as Vanessa nervously followed, but his plan was already in motion. His footsteps stopped in front of the guarding suit of armor on display. With some effort, he pried the sword off the dolled-up mannequin. He held the blade defensively as he faced the knight. “Sanctuary,” he mouthed, tilting his head towards the spiral staircase. “Out.”

Vanessa raised her hands in front of her chest. “I know this is a dumb thing to say, but you really do need to relax,” she answered, backing towards the entryway. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here because of Freddy. That’s it.”

Agonia lowered his sword. His eyebrows raised. Freddy? What did that have to do with..?

He raised his sword again. He shook his head.

Vanessa drew out her own weapon in response, but still watched her step as they descended. “It’s not a bluff,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “You can see the reports for yourself later. Freddy’s worried about Gregory just as much as you are.”

Agonia swung his sword, but Vanessa countered. Both stood on their respective steps, anticipating another try. However, Vanessa had something else in mind. “If you don’t believe me, then how about this?” she prefaced as she slid her blade back into its sheath. “The only reason why Gregory called for Sanctuary in the first place was because I made him. It was the only way I could save his life.”

Agonia’s eyes widened. He glanced over at the twitching hand, then back at her weary expression. He nodded slowly, then retreated up a step. “Still an out,” he reasoned solemnly, letting his arm drop a little. “Sorry.”

Vanessa bobbed her head as she turned away. “Just tell him that Freddy says he might stop by later,” she relayed, her eyes focusing on the rest of the staircase. “Something about upper management making him do one final check before the mall shuts down for the night.”

Agonia gave a sign of affirmation as he started back up the staircase. However, Vanessa’s final words made him stop right before reaching the top step: “Hey, while you’re at it, tell him he’s pretty lucky. I know I’d be if I had someone like you around defending me like that.”

He dropped his sword and whirled around, but Vanessa was gone. Dumbfounded by the compliment, he picked up the sword and put it back in its slot. He shook his head as he processed the words. There was no chance that he was actually defending someone like some genuine knight of old... Was there?

Feeling even more worn out than before, he hobbled back into the bell tower. He leaned against the railing and thought back on his day. In a span of several hours, he became: a king of jesters, an object of pain and ridicule, a subject of interrogation several times, a tour guide, and now a supposed protector of the innocent. His body slumped as he gazed at the night sky. Perhaps, in a few hours more, all he would be was a bell-ringer again. While gaining new titles had been fun and all, the amount he gathered from this day alone was a bit too ridiculous– Even for him.