#two ribbons is peak sophistication

[akif122514]

Wedding Cars Adelaide: Elevate Your Special Day with Luxurious Rides

Your wedding day is one of the most memorable occasions in your life, and every detail matters. From the venue to the dress, each element plays a crucial role in creating the perfect day. One often overlooked but essential component is wedding transportation. You have the opportunity to enhance your wedding experience by choosing from a variety of luxurious wedding cars Adelaide that can add a touch of elegance and sophistication to your special day.

The Importance of Wedding Cars

Wedding cars are more than just a means of transportation; they are an integral part of your wedding's aesthetic and overall experience. The right vehicle can set the tone for the day, complement your wedding theme, and provide a memorable backdrop for photographs. Moreover, having a dedicated wedding car ensures that you arrive at your venues in style, comfort, and on time.

Types of Wedding Cars Available in Adelaide

Adelaide offers a diverse range of wedding cars to suit different tastes and wedding themes. Here are some popular options:

Classic and Vintage Cars: For a timeless and romantic feel, classic and vintage cars like Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Jaguars are perfect. These cars exude elegance and nostalgia, making them ideal for traditional weddings.

Modern Luxury Cars: If you prefer a sleek and contemporary look, modern luxury cars such as Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and Audi provide a sophisticated and stylish option. These cars are equipped with the latest amenities to ensure a comfortable ride.

Limousines: For those who want to make a grand entrance, limousines are the ultimate choice. Stretch limos offer ample space, luxurious interiors, and a sense of grandeur that is hard to match.

Sports Cars: For a touch of excitement and glamour, sports cars like Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Porsches can add a unique flair to your wedding day. These high-performance vehicles are perfect for couples who want to make a bold statement.

Vintage Buses and Kombis: For a fun and quirky option, vintage buses and Kombis can transport your bridal party in a relaxed and stylish manner. These vehicles are great for outdoor or beach weddings and can accommodate larger groups.

Choosing the Right Wedding Car

Selecting the right wedding car involves several considerations to ensure it aligns with your wedding vision. Here are some tips to help you choose the perfect ride:

Match the Theme: Ensure the car you choose complements your wedding theme and color scheme. A vintage car might be perfect for a rustic wedding, while a sleek limousine suits a modern city wedding.

Consider the Size: Think about the number of passengers the car needs to accommodate. If you’re traveling with a large bridal party, a limousine or vintage bus might be more suitable than a two-seater sports car.

Comfort and Amenities: Check the comfort level and amenities of the car. You want to ensure a smooth and comfortable ride, especially if there’s a considerable distance between your venues.

Budget: Wedding cars come in a wide range of prices. Determine your budget beforehand and explore options within that range. Remember to factor in additional costs such as chauffeur services and decorations.

Reputation and Reviews: Research and read reviews about the car hire companies. Choose a reputable provider with positive feedback to ensure reliable service on your big day.

Making the Most of Your Wedding Car Experience

To make the most of your wedding car experience in Adelaide, consider these additional tips:

Book Early: Popular wedding cars can get booked quickly, especially during peak wedding seasons. Reserve your car well in advance to secure your preferred choice.

Personalize the Car: Add personal touches such as floral arrangements, ribbons, or custom license plates to make the car uniquely yours.

Plan the Route: Work with your chauffeur to plan the best route, taking into account traffic and scenic spots for photos.

Enjoy the Ride: Take a moment to relax and enjoy the ride with your partner. It’s a special time to reflect and savor the excitement of the day.

In conclusion, wedding cars in Adelaide offer a fantastic way to enhance your special day. With various options available, you can find the perfect vehicle to match your style, theme, and budget. By carefully selecting and personalizing your wedding car, you’ll create unforgettable memories and add a touch of luxury to your celebration.

Visit: https://www.gflimousines.au/services/

[many-voices]

Nora:  A Wintersday Miracle

(( part of @luxelen’s hilarious mistaken-gift prompt. )) Nora’s high-pitched squeal began at the front door of her family’s house -- where she first saw the finely wrapped gift -- and remained at full volume all the way to her room on the third floor.  She slammed the door on her brother Jonah’s holler of, “Ma, someone sent Nora a--,” and immediately turned the latch on him.  Brothers. She tossed her Seraph training gear on the bed and floor rather than the rack meant for that purpose.  Still wearing her linen padding, she sat cross-legged on the bed and drew the box onto her lap.  It. Was. Gorgeous.  Perfect paper, delicate colors, a ribbon.  Two ribbons.

It must have been - no, her aunt wouldn’t send this.  This was the sort of gift a woman received.  From a man.  Was it for her mother, from her father?  Nooo. They were old, and they barely talked outside the shop.  Someone must have seen her at the Ball, oh Lyssa, someone saw her from among all those people...

She ripped the paper off the box and flung the lid aside.  She looked at the contents, then tilted her head and kept looking as if the change in angle might give another clue.  “Oh!” she said, high-pitched. Then, after figuring out what she was looking at, her voice dropped into a lower register and red bloomed on her fair cheeks.  “Oh.”

Her squeal cut the air like glass.  Jonah, still outside the room, called, “Ma! She’ll scare the dogs!”  Nora buried her face in her pillow and kicked her feet in helpless glee.

(( hey, @lordgriggs!  Was something supposed to go to your wife, maybe? ))

[discoscoob]

Buzz Kill | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

When the Doctor decides to crash a party at a mansion in the 1920s, the last thing you expect it to involve is a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie.

Part Five | Part Seven | Chapter Index

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: death: minor characters

A/N: This is part one of what was meant to be one whole chapter but due to the length I decided to split it into two separate parts, so I apologise for the abrupt ending. Also Loki is dressed as Thomas Sharpe in this chapter, hence the gif.

Read on AO3

You were currently in the TARDIS wardrobe getting dressed for a 1920s party which Donna and the Doctor had decided to crash. You had picked out an elegant lilac flapper dress, which had layered skirts on the bottom that fell just below your knee, embroidered flowers decorated the left side near your hips, where a velvet plum coloured ribbon was tied loosely. You paired it with some silk champagne coloured gloves which reached your elbow and a band of gemstones wrapped around your head like a crown.

 You pushed back the dressing room curtain to find Loki waiting for you with his shoulder lent against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze lifted as soon as he heard the hooks of the curtain scrape against the metal bar and he immediately stood to attention as he took in your appearance, while you took in his.

 He was dressed lavishly, in a long black velvet coat, over a silk black waistcoat, with a pocket watch and a matching silk ribbon tied into a bow around his neck, which the collar of his white dress shirt barely peaked out of.

 “You look ravishing, my dear.” His voice dropped and caused your stomach to flip as he stalked towards you, your feet glued to the spot where his eyes pinned you until his large hands were grasping your by your hips and tugged you close, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself.

 “And you look absolutely stunning, I fear I won’t be able to take my eyes off of you during the whole party.” You confessed, while you played with the hair at the back of his neck.

 “You’ll hear no objections from me.” The God smiled proudly.

 “We’ll be late for cocktails!” The Doctor impatiently shouted as he knocked on the other side of the door to the spacious wardrobe.

 Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh as he took a step back to offer you his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

 “Shall we?”

 ***

 “Okay, ground rules.” The Doctor stated as soon as you were all stood outside of the TARDIS, in a green shady area behind a large mansion, whoever was having this party was very well-to-do.

 “Rules? We never had rules before.” You frowned, still by Loki’s side with your arm tucked into the crook of his elbow.

 “We weren’t all on the run before either.” Touché, you thought as the time lord continued, addressing Loki directly this time. “Try to keep your use of magic to a minimum, we know they can use it to track you.”

 “And you know the rest,” he addressed all of you, “no changing history, don’t tell anyone where we’re from, don’t abuse your ability to time travel for gambling etc... etc... you get the gist. Now, I think we have a party to crash.” The Doctor offered Donna his arm, much like Loki had to you, before they lead the way to the back of the mansion with you and Loki following in toe.

 It was a gorgeous summers day, the air was warm but not too humid as a fresh breeze occasionally cooled your skin. 

 You heard the sound of piano music playing from a gramophone as you approached a group of waiters who were smartly dressed in tuxedos, they gathered around a set of straw chairs and tables in the back garden of the mansion. 

 Strung between trees over head, hung decorative red lanterns and a long table covered with a pristine white cloth was filled with an assortment of various fruits. 

 “Good afternoon!” The Doctor raised his hand as one of the waiters approached your group.

 “Drinks, ladies and gentlemen?” The waiter courteously offered.

 “Sidecar, please.” Your auntie answered, making her tone sound slightly more sophisticated than usual.

 “Uh, a lime and soda, thank you.” The Doctor requested, before the waiters eyes fell on you.

 “Oh... erm, a singapore sling, please.” You decided and followed the waiters eyes as he looked to Loki for his order. You noticed that Loki was now wearing a pair of dark round, silver framed sunglasses to protect his eyes from the bright sun.

 “I shall have the same.” Loki copied your order and the waiter swiftly left to prepare your drinks.

 “I like these,” you complimented Loki’s sunglasses as you squinted up at him, the sun getting in your own eyes.

 With a discreet wave of his hand, an almost identical pair were resting on your own nose, relieving your eyes from the harsh sun. As soon as you parted your lips to remind him not to use his magic, he lifted his finger to his own lips which were lifted into a subtle smirk and your words immediately died on your tongue.

 “May I announce Lady Clemency Eddison!” A butler hollered, as he escorted a middle aged, blonde woman wearing a midnight blue cocktail dress into the garden where you were all gathered.

 “Lady Eddison!” The Doctor held out his arms, as if greeting an old friend.

 “Forgive me, but who exactly might you be and what are you doing here?” She politely asked him, her speech indicated her class and wealth as she took the Doctors hand in her own as a form of greeting.

 “I’m the Doctor, and this is Miss Donna Noble of the Chiswick Nobles, her niece and Sir Loki of Asgard.” The Doctor introduced you all one by one. “We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the Ambassador’s reception.” He smoothly lied as he held up his wallet containing the psychic paper.

 Easily convinced by the fake invite and too polite to acknowledge that she clearly had no recollection of meeting the Doctor, Lady Eddison smiled.

 “Doctor, how could I forget you?” She feigned realisation. “But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose.”

 She made her way over to a waiter who was holding a silver platter of champagne saucers and helped herself to one, as you all followed behind her. 

 “A unicorn? Brilliant! Where?” The Doctors interest spiked, as did yours.

 “The Unicorn. The jewel thief.” She clarified and your shoulders slumped, for a second you had thought she was talking about an actual unicorn, obviously you knew they weren’t real but anything was possible when traveling with the Doctor.

 “Are unicorns real on Asgard?” You looked at Loki, hoping that you didn’t sound crazy but if he could conjure up sunglasses out of thin air surely anything was possible.

 “Unicorns? No.” Loki softly chuckled. “We do, however, have winged horses. The Valkyrie, an army of female Asgardian warriors, used to ride them into battle.” Loki explained.

 “Oh wow.” You gasped with amazement at what Loki told you and his lips stretched into a proud smile, delighted that he could impress you with stories of the world he grew up in.

 A waiter approached you all and served you the cocktails you ordered on a silver platter, the ice rocks clinked against the glasses as you each lifted your drink from the tray. 

 “He’s just struck again.” Lady Eddison continued to explain about the jewel thief. “Snatched Lady Babbington’s pearls right from under her nose.” 

 “Funny place to wear her pearls.” Donna commented, causing you to splutter on your drink as you stifled your giggles.

 As you enjoyed your drinks the butler announced more guests as they made their way into the garden. Lady Eddison’s husband and son, Hugh and Roger, the son pushed his father in his wheelchair, a beautiful young socialite called Miss Robina Redmond and a Reverend known as Arnold Golightly.

 You turned to put your glass down on one of the tables, as the condensation of the cold glass was beginning to make your silk gloves wet, when a sudden eruption of applause caught your attention. 

 A blonde lady in a blue and golden embroidered frock humbly approached the group. 

 “Agatha Christie.” She said as she held out her hand to Donna, greeting her first.

 “What about her?” Donna replied as she accepted the woman’s hand.

 “That’s me.” Agatha clarified and Donna’s jaw fell slack.

 “No! You’re kidding.” Donna gasped in disbelief.

 “Agatha Christie!” The Doctor smiled as he enthusiastically shook her hand, “I was just talking about you the other day! I said, I bet she’s brilliant! I’m the Doctor, this is Donna. Oh! I love your stuff! What a mind! You fool me every time, well, almost every time, well, once or twice, well, once. But it was a good once!” 

 “You make a rather unusual couple.” Agatha observed.

 “No, we’re not married!” 

 “Yeah we’re not a couple!” 

 The Doctor and Donna spoke in unison.

 “I’d stay that way, if I were you. The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture.” Agatha advised. 

 You felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist as he pulled your back into his chest.

 “I beg to differ.” Loki whispered lowly and his lips brushed the shell of your ear, igniting a pleasurable flutter within you.

 You turned around in his arms and put your hands on his chest to push him away as you stepped back, above his sunglasses you saw his brows draw together and he opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

 “How can you say for sure if you haven’t chased me yet?” You questioned him, as you continued to back away with a playful grin.

 Loki simply raised one eyebrow as he tilted his head and brought his sunglasses down his nose, to look at you from over their rim. “Is that a challenge, darling?” 

 “It might be.” You shrugged.

 “My dear, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Loki warned you, with a smirk that only enticed you further, so you didn’t listen.

 You immediately took off as laughter bubbled in your chest and there was an ever so slight rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You headed directly towards the open doors of the mansion and Loki was hot on your heel.

 Donna and the Doctor turned their heads and watched the pair of you run off after they heard you let out a squeal around uncontrollable laughter, they looked back at the party when they realised all the guests had fallen speechless over your unbecoming behaviour.

 “Young love.” Donna tilted her head and scrunched her nose in an ‘aw’ expression and it was enough to get the guests to return to their previous conversations.

 The sound of your feet heavily hitting against the tiled floor of the mansions entrance, bounced off the walls of the narrow hallway. You snatched your sunglasses off your face as your eyes adjusted to the dullness inside the mansion, in contrast to how bright it was outside. 

 Your eyes caught a grand staircase at the end of the hallway and immediately ran towards it, when your foot reached the bottom step you glanced over your shoulder to find Loki was already halfway to the stairs, his sunglasses also removed from his face and you felt a spark of adrenaline through your abdomen, spurring you on to move quicker. 

 You had to pause at the top of the stairs to momentarily catch your breath, but quickly moved on once you heard Loki’s footsteps getting closer. It was when you turned down the left corridor that you realised you made a mistake, a dead end. 

 You startled with a shriek when Loki’s arms finally caught you around the waist and he manoeuvred you so that your back was against one of the doors, you were laughing the whole time until your eyes connected with his once he caged you in and you saw the carnal desire hidden in his dilated pupils and your breath hitched.

 “So... what’s your verdict?” You questioned him, your voice breathy as you were still panting.

 “I’ll admit, the chase is certainly thrilling, however,” his tone lowered, “now that I have captured you, you’re mine to do with as I please and that is far more thrilling.” 

 You swallowed as your stomach did summersaults while tingles shot up from the base of your spine and you weren’t panting from exertion anymore.

 Instantly his mouth was moving against yours, as he fumbled with the doorknob beside your hip, to push the door behind you open. He was already supporting your weight with his arm steadily wrapped around your waist, so you wouldn’t lose your balance as he walked you into the unknown room as his lips slowly trailed from your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. 

 While Loki was distractedly kissing you, you let your eyes flutter open to examine your surroundings, from the bookshelves that lined the walls you gathered that it was a library, as your eyes continued to roam they fell onto a large mahogany desk and then– you screeched with terror.

 “Oh my god!”

 Loki immediately lifted his head from the crook of your neck as he checked over you with wide worried eyes, seeing your stare was focused behind him, he looked over his shoulder, prepared to protect you from whatever had struck terror through you, only to find the lifeless body of an elderly man on the floor in front of the desk.

 He immediately switched your positions, so your back was turned to the body, he wrapped you in his arms and he soothed you with gentle strokes down your back.

 “We have to tell the Doctor.” You told him, once you composed yourself, you felt Loki nod in agreement as he pulled you under his arm and swiftly guided you out of the room.

 ***

 “Did you touch the body?” The Doctor urgently asked as he rushed through the door to the library. You followed in toe along with Loki, Donna, the butler and Agatha Christie.

 “No, we came to you as soon as we saw it.” You answered the Doctor, as you stood off near the corner of the room with Loki beside you, feeling a lot more calmer now that the initial shock had worn off.

 The Doctor put on a pair of glasses as he knelt over the body and examined it.

 “Bashed on the head. A blunt instrument. Watch broke as he fell, time of death was a quarter past four.” He concluded, before he rose to his feet and started searching through papers on the desk with the hope of finding more evidence.

“Nothing worth killing for in that lot. Dry as dust.” He mumbled to himself.

 “Hold on. The body in the library? I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping?” Donna said to the Doctor, as he continued to search through the desk and you realised you had been wrong to compare the deaths in the Dark Ages to Clue, this was literally Clue. 

 “Let me see. Gerald?!”

 “Saints preserve us!” 

 “Oh, how awful.”

 Lady Eddison, Roger, the Reverend and Miss Redmond came spilling into the room, upon hearing about the body.

 “Someone should call the police.” Agatha Christie spoke above them all.

 “You don’t have to. I’m Chief Inspector Smith, from Scotland Yard, known as the Doctor.” The Time Lord said as he held up his psychic paper for all the guests to see. “Miss Noble’s the plucky young girl who helps me out. Go into the sitting room, I will question each of you in turn.”

 “Come along. Do as the Doctor says, leave the room undisturbed.” Agatha ushered everyone out, leaving only you and Loki behind with Donna and the Doctor.

 “The plucky young girl who helps me out?” Donna repeated the Doctors words with mockery as soon as the door shut behind all the guests.

 “No policewomen in 1926.” The Doctor easily explained from where he was lying flat on his stomach on the floor, searching it for clues.

 “Doctor, why aren’t we getting the real police?” You asked as you moved towards him and Donna.

 “Well, the last thing we want is PC Plod sticking his nose in. Especially now I found this.” The Doctor shot to his feet, holding up a stick in his hand to show the three of you the residue which stuck to the end of it. “Morphic residue. It gets left behind when certain species genetically re-encode.” 

 Donna looked at you. “The murderers an alien?” 

 “Which means one of that lot is an alien in human form.” The Doctor explained as he nodded his head towards the door to signal that he meant one of the party guests.

 The Doctor began making his way out of the library and you all started following behind.

 “Think about it. There’s a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie. Isn’t it a bit weird? Agatha Christie didn’t walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. I mean, that’s like meeting Charles Dickens and he’s surrounded by Ghosts at Christmas. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me it’s like the Murder on the Orient Express, and they all did it.” Donna spoke, as you all moved around the mansion. 

 “Murder on the Orient Express?” Agatha suddenly appeared from under one of the doorways.

 “Oh, yeah, one of your best!” Donna complimented the authors work.

 “Not quite yet.” The Doctor subtly corrected Donna.

 “Marvellous idea.” Agatha considered.

 “Yeah, tell you what, copyright Donna Noble, okay.” Donna winked at Agatha, who in return gave her a strange look.

 “Anyway! Agatha and I will question the suspects. You, Loki and Donna, search the bedrooms. Look for clues.” The Doctor instructed, before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Anymore residue. You’ll all need one of these.” 

 The Doctor proceeded to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed each of you a magnifying glass. 

 “It’s like Scooby Doo, and we’re Mystery Inc.” You said enthusiastically. 

 Loki looked at the magnifying glass like had personally offended him meanwhile you were looking at him through yours, making certain parts of his face bigger and chuckling at the results. 

 “Is this for real?” Donna asked, looking at her magnifying glass.

 “Right then! Solving a mystery with Agatha Christie, brilliant!” The Doctor smiled with excitement.

 “How like a man to have fun while there’s disaster all around him.” Agatha scoffed.

 “Sorry, yeah.” The Doctor mumbled as his smile awkwardly fell.

 ***

 You and Loki had paired up to search for clues, while Donna searched by herself. 

 “We should return of the library and see if we can find a trail of the residue to follow.” You decided. “It might lead us to some more clues.”

 “Lead the way, Detective.” Loki stepped aside and allowed you to walk ahead of him back to the library. 

 As you entered the library, your eyes momentarily lingered on the professors body in front of the desk. Sensing your hesitation, Loki put his hand on your shoulder.

 “We can search for clues in another room, if you would prefer.” He gently offered, but you shook your head.

 “No, I’m fine,” you turned to Loki so that he could see you weren’t lying. “I was just thinking, shouldn’t he be covered with a sheet or something?”

 “Why?” Loki didn’t follow.

 “It’s... dignified, I guess?” You answered without complete confidence, as you weren’t sure if that was the exact reason you saw people cover bodies with sheets in films and TV shows, but you were certain that it felt like the right thing to do and it was enough to convince Loki as he nodded.

 “I’ll get a sheet from one of the rooms, I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on your forehead before leaving and you turned back around to face the room to start searching.

 You searched near the fireplace and your eye caught the remains of a burnt piece of paper, it was only about the size of a bottle top but you picked it up and examined it suspecting that it might be worth interest if someone had thrown it into the fire to be destroyed.

 Using your magnifying glass to help you, you read the single word on the piece of paper and discovered it said ‘maiden.’ You kept it in your palm and rose back to your feet when you heard Loki return to the room, in his arms he carried a white sheet, which he likely stole from one of the bedrooms.

 “Find anything?” He asked, as he shook the sheet out over the professors body before he guided it down slowly until it was covering him completely.

 “A piece of paper in the fire.” You held out your glove covered palm as you approached Loki’s side and his eyes fell on it. “I figured, if someone had thrown it into the fire with the intention of destroying it, it must be of interest.” 

 Loki looked at you with a proud smirk, which caused you to beam and cast your eyes downward.

 “Would you look after it though? I don’t have any pockets.” You asked him.

 “Of course, my dear.” He took the paper from your palm between his forefinger and thumb and snuck it into the tiny pocket in his waistcoat behind his pocket watch.

 Suddenly you heard your auntie screaming and yelling for the Doctor and you immediately began running towards the sound of her voice, Loki chased behind you. 

 On your way, you caught up with the Doctor and Agatha Christie and all four of you continued running to Donna’s rescue. 

 You caught her running out of one of the bedroom doors screaming, before she abruptly pulled it shut behind her, her attention turned to the four of you as she heard the sound of your feet galloping towards her.

 “A giant wasp!” Donna cried.

 “Oh my god, is that it? I thought someone was trying to kill you.” You sighed with a mix of annoyance and relief.

 “It was!” Donna claimed dramatically.

 “Don’t be silly, it’s only a little insect.” Agatha shook her head at your auntie, who looked about ready to slap all of you.

 “When I say giant, I don’t mean big! I mean flippin’ enormous!” She raised her voice for emphasis, before she gestured to the bottom of the door. “Look at it’s sting!”

 “Oh...” Your eyes widened with realisation as they landed on the abnormally large sting that was lodged halfway through the bottom of the door. 

 There was no doubt that it would’ve killed your auntie instantly if she had been stung by it.

 “Let me see.” The Doctor pushed past to open the door and everyone followed in behind him. “It’s gone.”

 When you entered the room, the stale smell of dust immediately surrounded you, the room appeared as though it had been untouched for decades, dust and cobwebs covered almost every surface.

 The Doctor rushed to the only window in the room, which was completely smashed through, indicating that was how the giant wasp made it’s escape. You realised it was also how it made its entrance when you heard the sound of broken glass crunching beneath the Doctors shoes as he returned to the door to examine the large sting. 

 “Don’t touch it!” The Doctor warned all of you and you felt Loki’s fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer to his side to ensure you didn’t go anywhere near the sting.

 “Giant wasp... well, tons of amorphous insectivorous life forms, but none in this galactic vector.” The Doctor thought out loud as he pulled out a test tube and used a stick to scrape some syrup like substance that was dripping from the sting into it. 

 “It’s lost its sting though, that makes it defenceless.” Donna said, she was crouched beside the Doctor.

 “Creature this size, got to be able to grow a new one.” The Doctor told her.

 Another scream carried through the mansion which had you all immediately rushing to find its source, you and Loki held hands as you ran behind the Doctor who made it down the stairs and outside to find Lady Eddison’s personal maid on her back, one of the stone carvings of the mansion had fallen on top of her and she was barely alive. The gravel stone of the drive slid beneath the Doctor’s feet as he rushed to her side.

 You all circled around her as she struggled to say her final words. 

 “The poor... little... child.” She rasped before her head lulled to the side and her eyes fell vacant as the life drained from behind them.

 You all lifted your heads to look up when you heard the sound of loud buzzing above you and although you had seen the size of it’s sting in the door. You weren’t prepared to be greeted by the sight of a six foot long wasp hovering over you. 

 Wasps had always triggered your fight or flight and of course you could never fight a wasp so flight was always your go to, whenever you saw a wasp you would immediately put as much distance between you and it as you possibly could, often that meant running away completely and this time was no different. 

 While the Doctor, Donna and Agatha had all began running after it, you ran in the opposite direction, splitting your group into two halves and Loki didn’t hesitate in deciding you were the one he was going to follow. 

 You ran back into the safety of the mansion, sheltering yourself in a corner where you weren’t close to any doors or windows as you shook the heebie jeebies out of your body by jumping up and down on the spot and shaking out all your limbs.

 Loki caught up with you and saw your jittery dance and couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled from his throat and when you heard it, you glared at him and he brought his hand to his mouth to stifle his sniggers and tried to offer you an apologetic look.

 “I’m sorry,” he tilted his head as he slowly closed the distance between you, now that you had finally settled, “but your dance was rather amusing.”

 Another unpleasant shiver shot down your spine, causing you to shake it out as you let out a cringe. 

 “They freak me out,” you told Loki, as he placed his hand on your upper arm and stroked it to gently sooth you. “Even the normal sized ones, I can’t help it.”

 “It’s alright,” Loki assured you and you nodded.

 “I’m okay now,” you told him honestly with a smile, before you remembered your auntie and the Doctor chased after the wasp. 

 “Doctor and Donna,” you gasped. “They went after the wasp.”

 “Don’t worry, we will find them.” Loki told you before he took your hand in his, “I’m sure the Doctor has everything under control.” 

 ***

 The Doctor didn’t have everything under control. 

 You and Loki had spent a good while searching around the large mansion, mostly just getting lost and ending up in the same place more than once, when you heard a commotion coming from the staff kitchen as you were walking past it. The distinct sound of Donna and the Doctors voices carried through the kitchen and into the corridor, as they shouted hysterically at each other. 

 You and Loki paused to share a questioning glance before you quickened your paces towards the kitchen.

 “What do you want, a Harvey Wallbanger?” Your auntie shouted.

 “Harvey Wallbanger?!” The Doctor screeched, as you and Loki silently snuck into the room unnoticed.

 “Well, I don’t know!” Donna raised the pitch of her voice.

 “How is Harvey Wallbanger one word?!” The Doctor roared, causing the veins in his neck to stand prominent. He was almost doubled over and was struggling to hold himself up as he leaned against the island in the centre of the kitchen for support.

 “Salt! I was miming salt! Salt! I need something salty!” The Doctor violently shook his hand up and down as if he was shaking a salt shaker.

 “What about this?” Donna offered him a brown paper bag filled with something.

 “What is it?!” 

 “Salt!” 

 “That’s too salty!” 

 “Oh, that’s too salty!” She repeated mockingly as she rolled her eyes.

 “What about this?” Agatha Christie ran over, offering the Doctor a jar of anchovies, which he immediately snatched from her and shoved its contents into his mouth.

 “What is it? What else do you need?” Donna asked the Doctor out of breath, as he began miming something else, waving both his hands wildly in the air.

“Um, it’s a song? Mammy?” Donna cried in an operatic voice. “I don’t know. Camptown Races?”

 “Camptown Races?!” The Doctor cried.

 “All right then. Towering Inferno?!” 

 “It’s a shock! Look!” He raised his hands up and waved them again. “Shock! I need a shock!” 

 “Right then. Big shock coming up!” Donna sighed as she put each of her hands on either side of the Doctors face and pulled him down for a kiss, or rather more a snog. 

 Your jaw fell slack with a gasp and your eyes widened like saucers as they staggered around like that for a while until she let him go and his head flew backwards as a large grey cloud evaporated from his lungs.

 “Detox!” The Doctor rasped, once the cloud had all gone and he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and chin. “I must do that more often! I mean the... detox.”

 “What’s going on?” You asked, finally making your presence known as you walked further into the room.

 “Someone poisoned the Doctor. We were giving him an antidote.” Donna explained.

 “Who would to that?” You asked.

 “The wasp. They know I’m onto them.” The Doctor said, reminding you that the wasp had a human form and was likely one of the guests. It also reminded you that you had found a clue.

 “Oh, Doctor! I forgot to tell you, I found something in the library that I think might be of interest.” You told him and Loki was already fishing the charred piece of paper from out of his waistcoat pocket.

 “Brilliant! What is it?” The Doctors eyes widened as Loki handed it to him. 

 “It was in the fireplace of the library, it seems someone wanted to destroy it.” You explained, as the Doctor put on his glasses and squinted at the word on the paper.

 “Maiden!” He shouted as if he had a realisation, causing everyone in the room to startle, except for Loki, who you realised wasn’t easily surprised. “What does that mean?” 

 Everyone sighed with disappointment, having thought the Doctor might have been onto something, only to realise he was as clueless as the rest of you. 

 “We’re still no further forward. Our nemesis remains at large.” Agatha remarked.

 ***

 A thunder clap made you jump and you put your palm over your chest to calm your spiked heartbeat. Night had fallen and with it it had brought a terrible storm. Lady Eddison had promised to host all her guests for the night and now you were all sat in her dining room around a large table, eating the starter of the meal which she had her cooks prepare.

 Naturally you were sat next to Loki, Donna and the Doctor were sat beside each other on the opposite side of the table and Lady Eddison at the head, while her husband, Hugh, was sat at the bottom. All the other guests occupied the rest of the dining chairs.

 “I don’t believe we have been introduced.” Miss Redmond, the young socialite, said to Loki from where she was sat next to him, on his opposite side to you.

 “We weren’t.” Loki stated, as he focused on his spoon full of soup as he brought it to his lips.

 “I’m Robina,” Miss Redmond smiled at Loki, and you watched closely from his other side, beginning to feel a heaviness creep on your chest, but you willed yourself to ignore it as you deemed it irrational, she was just being friendly.

 “I’m Loki,” He replied, before he leaned back in his chair so he was no longer blocking her view of you and placed his hand over yours which was resting on top of the dining table. “And this is my beloved.” He introduced you.

 As soon as Miss Redmonds eyes fell on you, her smile dropped and she returned to her soup. 

 “A terrible day for all of us. The Professor struck down. Lady Eddison’s maid Miss Chandrakala, cruelly taken from us. And yet, we still take dinner.” The Doctor commented. 

 “We are British, Doctor. What else must we do?” Lady Eddison answered him, holding a crystal glass filled with red wine.

 “Then someone tried to poison me.” The Doctor continued, “anyone of you had the chance to put cyanide in my drink.” Everyone at the table remained silent, as they became increasingly interested their meal in front of them. “But it rather gave me an idea.” 

 “And what would that be?” The Reverend, Arnold Golightly, boldly asked the Doctor.

 “Well. Poison. Drink up!” The Doctor casually stated, and everyone at the table immediately choked on their mouthfuls or dropped their spoons, yourself included as your eyes widened and stared at the Doctor, wondering if he had lost his mind.

 “I’ve laced the soup with pepper.” The Doctor clarified and your shoulders slumped with relief. “But the active ingredient of pepper is piperine. Traditionally used as an insecticide.”

 Your lips parted with realisation of the Doctors clever plan and you let your eyes roam around the dining table, trying to spot which one looked the most alarmed.

 “Anyone got the shivers?” The time lord taunted, before a thunderous clap blew the windows open which sent a chilling draft through the room and blew out all the candles, plunging the room into darkness. 

 You immediately tightened your hand around Loki’s, as they were still intertwined on the top of the dining table, when you heard a buzzing fill the pitch black room.

 “Listen! Listen!” The Doctor instructed, drawing all the other guests attentions to the sound of the wasps buzz.

 “No. It can’t be...” Lady Eddison whispered as a clash of lightning briefly lit up the room, your eyes frantically bounced around taking advantage of the fleeting moment of visibility but you could not see any six foot long wasp.

 “Nobody move!” The Doctor ordered, when he heard the legs of a chair push back against the hard wood floor beneath them, but they elected to ignore the Doctor as the sound of footsteps filled the room. “No, don’t! Stay where you are!” 

 Another clap of lightning allowed you the ability to see just long enough, to this time catch a glimpse of the giant wasp, hovering above the dining table and you screeched. 

 You felt Loki tugging on your hand and realised he was now standing and you quickly pushed yourself out of your chair too, once you were by his side, Loki began guiding you out of the dining room as urgently and as safely as he was able.

 “Out! Out! Out!” You heard the Doctor shout at everyone else from behind you, as multiple chairs screeched against the floor and the sound of more frantic footsteps filled the unlit room. 

 Loki soon found the door and opened it to reveal the lit hallway, allowing light to faintly leak into the shadowy dining room and soon the other guests were following yours and Loki’s lead. 

 Donna, the butler, and then Agatha and the Doctor, who snatched one of the decorative swords off of the wall for protection.

 “Well, we know the butler didn’t do it.” Donna gasped, out of breath.

 “Then who did?” The Doctor asked no one in particular, as he returned to the dining room with his sword raised and you all followed behind him.

 One of the waiters had found the switch to the lights and the room was once again illuminated, the first thing you realised upon entering was that the buzzing had stopped and the giant wasp was nowhere to be seen. The Reverend and Hugh were both on the floor, Hugh’s wheelchair was tipped over, he must’ve fallen out of it during the chaos. 

 “My jewellery.” Your eyes fell on Lady Eddison who was clasping at her now bare neck. “The firestone, it’s gone. Stolen!”

 Your attention was quickly diverted to Miss Redmond as she let out a scream, muffled from behind her own hand and it didn’t take you long to find the cause, as your eyes fell to Lady Eddison’s son, Roger, slumped face down into his bowl of soup with a dagger lodged between his shoulder blades.

 “My son. My child.” Lady Eddison cried, as she approached his lifeless body. Once she reached him, she leaned over him as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

[stardancerluv]

A Knight and Princess’s Heart Entwine

Part 4

Summary: Can the pain in the heart be healed? Can feelings last?

Warning: none

Silence, hung over the two of you like a fog on an open field. You could not see an end to it. You kept on sliding him looks but he remained looking forward.

Sure, when as you headed out and passed a few things of some importance, he’d talk to you but other then that, there was nothing. He had not asked how you’ve been and he didn’t offer to share about himself either.

Inwardly, you took a deep breath. “Elmont?”

“Yes, my lady.” He continued to look forward.

You couldn’t stand this. If the next two weeks were going to be like this, the anguish in her heart would be too much.

You never saw him this distant. That was even after Radella and you two crossed paths, at dawn one particular morning.

After leading the horse out, he had climbed back onto the horse where upon your arms draped loosely around his waist when she appeared from nowhere, having been out on a stroll herself.

She had given the you two of quite the talking. She went on and on how ladies, did not do such things or a knight, especially the captian of the knights should know better. Though in the end, she relented and let you two leave.

Finally, and not an entirely reasonable distance away, a cheeky smile had spread across his face. He also laughed so hard that it shook his body. That smile and laugh made butterflies flap in your stomach the entire time you were together. You and him lived by your own set rules while alone.

From time to time, he’d stride into the keep and he’d catch being proper with the other ladies. He’d give you that reckless, knowing smile which on occasion caused you turn to hide the giggles his smiled caused in you.

Of course, Radella never let you hear the end of it. She would pick apart what she had seen happen between you and him. Of course she was only concerned about your reputation so you knew it came from a good place. None of this, changed how he acted towards in those days. Though, now he seemed to be an entirely different person. You had to say something.

“Can we please stop for a moment?”

“Certainly.” Pulling the reins, he slowed the horses. Turning, he looked down at you. His furrowed brow and those blue eyes, she swallowed. “Are you ok?” He asked. “Should we have gotten you something before leaving?”

You rarely ever bit your tongue when it came to saying how you felt. There was no way, you were going to let this be. You needed to know.

“Elmont...” you started and swallowed. It had been a long three years, yes things were different now. But that shouldn’t have changed too much between you. Well, at least that is what you thought ideally.

“Yes.”

“Three years ago, I had a wonderful time with you.” You wrung your hands. “Did you not have a good time? Do you have a family now? Is that why you’ve grown so cold?”

******

He marveled at the loveliness of the dress you wore. It was far more sophisticated then what he had seen you in. You were still compact and had the curves as before.

When, he turned and finally greeted you, he noticed that your voice was still as sweet as a bird song in the morning.

You had grown into a lovely woman. The young woman was gone. Your cheekbones gave the right curve your face an your lips still looked rose petals. Only thing, missing was your long hair which he noticed was fully braided back. The ribbon looked quite nice nestled among the strands.

Though noticing all this brought a dagger like pain to his heart. He had to remind himself again that you were promised to another.

Without much fuss, he made sure all that was needed of yours and his belongings were stored away on the cart. He helped you up, holding your hand, by god, your skin had not grown rough, it was still soft. Your small hand, remained in his a little longer then he expected, that twister the blade in his heart.

Once it was all set, the two of you set off. This was one the more well uneventful and blander parts of the lands you would have. There wasn’t much he could show you.

Riding, along with you that close once again he realized was going to be much harder then he expected. No method, he had learned as a knight or even himself reinforcing the fact that you were with another dulled the bittersweet pain being close to you brought.

He could not stop himself from getting lost in one of his memories of a time the two of you shared.

During one of the afternoons, you had tied the skirt of your dress to your hip and barely stuck a toe into the crystal clear water of the lake.

You had made him feel a sense of boldness that up to that time, he had only ever felt in battle. So when you had been so silly about the water being cold, he picked you despite your squeals and pleas then placed you right up to knees in the cool water.

That would have been fine, till you took a misstep on a moss covered rock and falling grabbed onto him which then led to his own misstep. The laughter, you shared was probably far greater then the flock of geese that flew over that lake.

The laughter, you shared grew hushed as the two of your stole glances at each other when you had to shed your over garments, your dress and his cloak and tunic. They had to be laid out to dry, if you two were going to return in proper manner without the worry of whispers.

It had stolen his breath away, to see you in your soft cotton under clothes. Desperately, hiding behind his horse who for once did not want to stand still or you peaking around a large bush near the shore had become even sillier.

In the end, you laid there talking but keeping your eyes skyward as talked to give the other dignity. The boldness you had ignited in him, pulled and dragged his eyes to steal glances at what little he saw of your soft form.

“Elmont?” Your voice, close not distant like in the memory brought him to dirt road you and her were traversing.

“Yes, my lady.” He continued to look forward, the memory fading back into his heart where he kept them locked away.

“Can we please stop for a moment?” Your voice, there was something behind the words. It grounded him.

“Certainly.” He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses till they stopped.

What if you were poorly. He hadn’t even stopped ask if you were ok before setting out. Turning, barely touching, made it a little easier being this close.

Looking down at you, he saw that you had grown pale. That worried him “Are you ok?” He asked. “Should we have gotten you something before leaving?” He had some food, for when they were not near a tavern or a town.

“Elmont...” Your voice was barely a whisper as you said his name again. Perhaps he should retrieve some water for you.

“Yes.” He swallowed. What would he give to go back to those days that you two had shared.

The evening before your departure had been very painful for the two of you. You held the lantern as the two of you rode fast into the shadowy night till you safely away from all in the keep.

The moon, watched over the two of you high and full in the inky night. The lantern gave a warm soft. Since it was far closer than the moon or the sun ever could be, it revealed in the two of you what you two had been hiding in the shadows.

Sure, he had felt your arms around him when you rode together, he’d take your hand when helping you off and onto horse but that had been all the intimacy you allowed yourselves. Sharing a smile or eyes meeting across the grand halls, brought you closer then anyone there but that is where it had stopped.

That last night it all changed.

When you got down from his horse, your were flush against him. Neither of you parted even when your toes finally touched the ground. Your eyes met, next he finally had been able to feel your lips did in fact feel as soft as rose petals.

This was not what one did. It went against all the principles you and him held dear. Though just as the moon needed the stars, the two you shared more kisses before that night drew to an end.

The sweet pain of your embrace was far greater then a sword that once slid under his arm and met his shoulder. As he held you he came to find out what it felt like when another breathed. He was certain he even felt your heart. Which people said was where emotions such as this resided.

You had managed to steal away his dagger and cut a strip of you night dress. Together you knotted the fabric, then you had sealed that forbidden gift with a kiss. You both knew you should be one but that would never be. With a final kiss you, a promise was made that you’d always see each other as the sun and the moon. Destined to be apart but always needed for a day to be proper.

“Three years ago, I had a wonderful time with you.” You wrung your hands. “Did you not have a good time? Do you have a family now? Is that why you’ve grown so cold?

Your words, your voice tore down the wall he had hoped to have built around around his heart and then tore right at his heart that only you had ever been able to touch.

“Y/N...” He was only able to say, as god be kind to him as he followed the will of his heart and he wrapped his arms around you. A serpent of ice twisted within him fearing all you had spoken were words that that what you had once said you felt were no longer there. Though, he heard as you breathed, which was followed by your arms which managed to pull him even closer to you.

@theblackmaskclub @darling-i-read-it @rosionis @johallzy

[orangeseoks]

365 Rain Street EST.1809 // k.th

pt.3

[ unedited ]

[ all rights reserved @orangeseoks​ ]

As the week had finally passed, the weekend had arrived which meant church. I’d never been as fond of it as mother, but had no other option but to attend since I’m too young to make such decisions on my own according to my mother.

“Remember dear, the purest of white for church.”

“Yes mother,” I return. Tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear and fitting in a nice clip to brighten up my look. A mix of pinks and purples blended nicely with the creamy white, “I say someone is looking rather beautiful today, hm?”

Shifting in my seat I see nothing but my dear friend Jiyoo, “for what reason are you here? And are your parents aware of this?” 

“Cheer up you, my parents don’t mind one bit.”

“How shocking,” I retort, straightening out my collar. “It may be the day of christ but there is no need for you to be so.. so, motherly. I find it quite disturbing.”

“Your opinion is not needed, Jiyoo, say and do as one pleases so.” Standing from my chair, I pat down my skirt and adjust the ribbon around my waist. “Your mother suggested for us to take the second carriage, if not then we must walk.”

“I think a nice stroll would be nice, don’t you?” I chime, linking arms with Jiyoo as the two of us walk through the house, stopping shortly to visit the family cat. As the two of us walk along the street we watch the many families with their children and elders as one and on their way to church.

A look of amusement forms on Jiyoo’s face as she watches in pure awe at the families, “imagine having such a family (Y/n). Children to wake you in the early mornings to grant you the sweetest gifts even if that gift is a mere kiss on the temple.”

Jiyoo smiles at thought and holds me closer to her, “its a shame humanity isn’t of acceptance for all.”

“That was a bit deep, Jiyoo, even for you.” Jiyoo chuckles awkwardly and nods, “my bad. I’ve been studying the art of poetry and the performing arts.”

“Quite sophisticated, very admirable Jiyoo.” I respond giving her a gentle smile. Jiyoo’s cheeks instantly tint as she grows embarrassed at my compliment. A soft giggle leaves my lips, the two of us keeping up our peaceful walk to church.

__________________________________________________________

Church was nearing its end as our priest did his final prayer for the townspeople, “may the lord praise your souls. The many children of god, I hope for only the best in this blissful world, the lord thanks you.” 

With that our priest bids his goodbyes and leaves a few side notes and information about the event this evening that will be held at the Lee Manor. 

“(Y/n) dear,” my mother coos gaining my attention as I stand abruptly. “Call for Sir Lee please, I wish to converse with him.” I mentally roll my eyes at this, “yes mother. One moment,” with a silent huff I turn away from my annoyance of a mother in search of Sir Lee.

While I look around the inside the church I hear a faint conversation coming from the foyer, peaking my head through the doorway I see of two bodies I recognise and grow somewhat curious.

One is definitely Sir Lee, the other? No idea.

“Pardon the intrusion,” I begin, the thickness of my heel clicking against the glossy wooden floor as I make my way towards the tall males. “Sir Lee,” I greet with a smile. “Mother wishes to converse with you, possibly about tonight's events.”

Sir Lee turns to face me, his face instantly brightening as a kind smile graces his lips. “Ah. Miss (Y/n). many thanks for notifying me. Say, have you met my nephew?”

“Nephew?” I repeat after him, shifting my attention from Sir Lee to the man next to him, “this is my nephew Taehyung.”

Mr Kim, he can’t be.

“Why don’t you say hello, you know its rude not to.” Sir Lee brings up, his voice strained slightly as he directs Mr Kim, I knew that it was only polite to greet a woman let alone anyone at that. But we’ve already met once before.

“O-Oh, I see no need to do so, myself and you nephew can always catch up sometime later. The event perhaps?”

I attempt to get away but remain in my spot as I feel that oh-too familiar burn in the back of head, my mothers presence causing me to tense. 

“No need,” Mr Kim adds. Bowing slightly and reaching a hand forward to hold onto mine, bringing it his lips. Softly pecking at my knuckles, despite me wearing gloves that doesn’t stop the tenderness of such a small action to send me into a fit of shivers.

“Its a pleasure to meet you Miss (Y/n), that dress you’re wearing does look breathtaking.”

“Thank you, its a pleasure to meet you also.” Forcing a smile I look over at Sir Lee for some sort of way to escape, “look at that.” Sir Lee smiles, walking around me to the woman at the other end of the room. “The two of you discuss interests, myself and Miss (Y/n)’s mother have matters to sort.”

“Yes Sir,” I reply for the two of us. Tipping my head slightly to bid them goodbye, “thank the lords they’re gone.” Mr Kim breathes out, his usual smile forming on his face. “Sincerest apologies miss, I knew you were not comfortable with that but I must leave a good impression before both your mother and my uncle.”

Nodding, I fold my hands together, fiddling with my thumbs in a way to occupy myself. “Would you like to sit down? I could get us some refreshments?”

“Yes thank you,” Mr Kim nods, taking my hand and walking us into the small room were gatherings were normally held. “Tea?” Mr Kim asks, wandering into a closed off section, “oh no. Just water please, nothing much Mr Kim.”

“I understand,” Mr Kim says, the sound of glasses and many cups filling the empty atmosphere. Stirring and jugs being lifted, it all seemed somewhat calming and homelike. It was peaceful.

Walking back into the room, I watch as Mr Kim takes a seat next to me on the oddly comfortable bench seat, handing me my drink slowly and carefully. “This isn’t water Mr Kim,” I question examining the cup full of warmth.

“I know,” he speaks with a grin. Taking a sip of his drink, wincing at the heat of it. Letting out a soft chuckle, I lower my head, merely staring at the full cup in front of me. Its neatly made image atop the liquid drink, a swan.

“Ahh, whats so funny miss?” Mr Kim whines, leaning towards me with his round eyes boring holes through me. “Nothing Mr Kim, no need to whine.”

Mr Kim laughs, leaning back he sighs, “do you like it?” He asks me, taking yet another sip of his drink. “Like what?” I add oblivious to the question, “the swan silly. Do you like it?”

“O-Oh, yes I do. Its creative, for I wish I had such talent.”

Mr Kim grows silent for a moment before he lets out yet another sigh, “doubt. The sour taste of doubt,” he starts shifting slightly so he’s now facing me. “Doubting ones self is not healthy, belief and hope is what you should follow miss.”

“Mr Kim,” I murmur. Finally taking a sip of my hot drink, “why is it that Sir Lee wishes to court mother? She has no interest in him.”

Mr Kim smiles at this, quickly finishing his drink, “my uncle he truly feels for your mother miss. He only wants to show her the brighter and happier side of life, but..” He pauses, looking down.

“Your mother, she refuses to allow him to, believing that he is of pure scum. Its disgusting and rude-”

“-I know,” I add, cutting Mr Kim off. “I’ve tried many times before to tell mother the truth but she won’t listen.” 

Letting out a faint huff, I force a smile, silencing myself with the drink in my hands. “Say, have you visited the park recently? Myself and Namjoon hyung are planning on seeing the views once church has finished.”

Placing my now empty cup beside me, I straighten my posture, turning my head to face Mr Kim.

“I’d love to, but mother will insist on me to ready myself for tonight’s event.” 

“I’ll be sure to find someway to have you come, the views there are oh-too beautiful, rumor has it that if you stare into the distance long enough an angel will be by your side and whisper your true love into the ear of the lucky.”

Smiling, I intertwine my fingers together and click my heels together in amusement. “You have some strange beliefs Mr Kim, I envy that.”

Mr Kim laughs gently at this and shifts closer to me, “you’re quite-”

Mr Kim suddenly stops and looks up at something behind me, curious I turn around, “m-mother. Wh-What are you doing here?” Nervous, I swallow the lump in my throat as my mother continues to stare down at me.

“I believe it is time to leave, (Y/n) dear, have you got everything?”

I nod smally, and stand before my mother, checking my appearance quickly. “Good, many thanks for watching over my daughter.”

“Oh no miss, no need, myself and Miss (Y/n) are friends. We were simply conversing about education.”

“Hm, I see. Well, good day.” She spits back sourly, taking my hand in hers and leaving the room. “M-Mother, may I visit the park with Mr Kim. He promises to take care of me, him and his friend.”

“No,” is all she says and with the wave of a hand our vehicle is in front of us. “Mother please, I’ll be home of desired time, I beg of you please.”

“You sound like a poor salesman, dear.” Mother retorts, climbing into the car without looking back at me. Giving up, I bite back at the tears that sting my eyes and follow my mothers lead; entering the car without a single care.

As we drive out of the church grounds, I look back to find Mr Kim running out of the large building and into the car lot, stopping suddenly and watching as we leave.

“Mr Kim,” I whisper, a tear finally hitting my cheek. “Please forgive me.”

[author-morgan]

Phobia ☤ Alexios

seven - welcome to athens

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

"-AND INVITE AN outsider instead? They don't need another reason to hate me." Irene only hears the last of what Perikles is saying when she steps up into the Pynx. Judging by the strained tone of the statesman and the misthios' stance, the discussions are not going the way Herodotus initially hoped. Perikles' symposiums were known for their exclusivity, after all.

She grips onto Alexios' arm. It would be a shame for him to have come all this way for nothing, especially for such a virtuous cause. "Then allow me to bring him as my guest," the princess offers with a delicate smile, surprising all three men with her sudden appearance. Athens' leader regards Irene's appearance –stunned to find there are no visible bruises or cuts on her exposed skin this time.

"Very well," Perikles concedes with a sigh, trusting her and Herodotus' judgment against his own. His focus returns to the Eagle Bearer. "I would still ask that you aid my friends, misthios."

Alexios nods –Herakles had completed twelve tasks. Three wouldn't be a problem. "Consider it done," he replies, willing to play the part if it meant gaining intel on his mother's whereabouts.

Perikles retreats from the square with Herodotus trailing behind him. Alexios' gaze follows the two men until they cannot be distinguished from the crowd, but the princess' focus is on another, less savory character. Kleon the Everyman glances between her and the misthios, takes a step toward them. Irene glares at the politician –eyes filled with abhorrence. "Come, Alexios-" she tugs gently on his arm, urging him away from the remainder of the assembly and Kleon "-it is growing late and we have traveled far."

Alexios follows Irene, keeping in stride with the princess and keeping tally of the dubious looks people cast in his direction. "You didn't mention you know Perikles," he accuses in a lighthearted tone as they pass through a small agora to the east of the Pynx.

"I thought I had no reason to," she comments, quickly glancing over each stall and vendor. Herodotus was meant to handle negotiations. "Though I am glad to be of assistance." The princess pauses at a vendor selling fresh pomegranates, she fetches two silver obols from a concealed coin purse in exchange for two ripe and heavy fruits.

He glimpses her from the corner of his eye. She wears a pale green peplos with a Tyrian purple himation draped over her shoulder. Her hair falls in loose curls, adorned only with a ribbon dyed the same Tyrian purple. It doesn't occur to him they have stopped moving again until he pulls his gaze away from her.

"This is where you live?" He asks, looking at the house sitting on a small hill. The more he learns about the princess, the more questions he has. She flushes, never having been one to flaunt wealth as some of the other elites. It is not as large as Perikles villa, nor as extravagant as those belonging to esteemed playwrights and sophists in the city but it stands impressive, nonetheless.

"Hydarnes was well respected," she explains leading him into the open courtyard at the villa's center. Despite being Persian the old general had the reputation of an honorable and nobleman. Perikles held him in high regard and had taken both she and her brother under his wing. "My brother, Zephyr, was loved by many in the city too." Zephyr had grown into an Athenian easily enough and in time Irene did as well.

Alexios cannot imagine what strange desires led her to leave and go down the path of a castigator. "Why would you ever leave?" He asks. Almost anyone would choose a life of comfort and wealth over being an itinerant. It is but another enigma surrounding the princess.

There is a longing, distant look her eyes –one that had not been there before arriving in Athens. Her composure falters. "Even a songbird eventually tires of its cage," she tells him, sorrow seeping into her voice.

While he does not know the exact feeling she speaks of he shares the sentiments. Alexios always dreamt of the day he'd finally be able to leave Kephallonia. "And your brother?" He questions, glancing around the empty villa.

Irene pushes down the lump in her throat. Zephyr's death still plagues her dreams and memories. "Murdered by bandits," she tells him –unable to look anywhere else but the stone beneath her feet.

IRENE FINDS SHE cannot sleep –after sleeping in caves and along beaches, the bed in her chambers is too soft. It is a common struggle she experiences when coming back to Athens. Comfort and memories often haunt her until she leaves the confines of the city walls. She goes to the roof terrace of the villa.

"Can't sleep either?" Alexios asks as soon as he catches sight of her from the steps leading up to the roof.

The princess spares a moment's glance over her shoulder at the misthios, focus quickly turning to the acropolis. "This place feels hollow after-" she can't bring herself to finish the sentence, but Alexios understands the meaning well enough –this place no longer feels like a home.

He sits next to her and follows her unfocused gaze to the Parthenon. It is the grandest temple he has seen in his travels –dedicated to the patron goddess of Athens, Athena. Now the white marble is bathed in moonlight and appears as a beacon of light rising high above the city.

"Where does the mighty Alexios hail from?" Irene asks, emphasizing the epithet Barnabas often uses. It causes him to roll his eyes even if it does bring an amused smile to his lips.

"Kephallonia," he answers. At times, he misses the simplicity of Kephallonian life –tending to Markos' problems and keeping Phoibe out of trouble. The worst thing he had to worry about was when the Cyclops and his miscreants decided to show their faces. There wasn't a war or a Cult seeking domination or a Persian princess.

"What's it like?" Irene wonders aloud. She's never gone so far west before and has only just met someone who could call the island home.

"A shithole," he remarks, but it is not an answer capable of pacifying Irene. "Mount Ainos makes up for most of it," the Eagle Bearer continues. At the peak of the mountain was Zeus' likeness hewn from stone –standing tall over the island with a thunderbolt poised to strike. The statue was impressive, yet it was the sweeping views of the sea Alexios liked best. He cannot come up with the words to describe it, though.

"What is Athens like?" He asks in turn. It is different than Kephallonia or Sparta, but it is clear the banal rumors of a puritanical society are mostly unfounded.

"A shithole," she quips, the corner of her lips quirk upward. Alexios shakes his head, laughing under his breath. "It's better than most places," she says in earnest. Many small villages and poleis were plagued by corruption and sickness. Irene would not deny Athens had the same issues, but here people did not walk the streets as living corpses in quiet fear. "Perikles has done great things for the city and its people." With Spartan encampments just outside the city walls and rumors of a Cult, Athens still thrived even with the unrest being stirred by the likes of Kleon.

Irene shifts and looks over the misthios. He doesn't have the look of a traditional Spartan, nor does he bear the delicate features of many Athenians. Steeped in moonlight and cloaked in shadows, he is both Ares and Adonis –she doesn't know why it has taken her this long to decide he is handsome.

"What were you doing on Samos?" His question draws the princess away from her thoughts –catches her off-guard.

"I-" she pauses, unsure which lie is best to craft this time but when Irene's eyes dart up to meet his, she is compelled to speak the truth. "Ever since Zephyr died, I've been hunting down bandits," she admits. Irene has lost count of how many bandits she has sent to the underworld, but each death feels as though she is avenging her brother. It feels like justice. But where does seeking justice end, and seeking vengeance begin?

[chiseler]

The Last Light

There is a moment in David Lynch's Twin Peaks: The Return that on its incandescent surface could have been lifted, weightless, from the great post-war dream of materialist deliverance: The top on the convertible is down, the radio on; The Paris Sisters are singing I Love How You Love Me as a reincarnated Laura Palmer lifts her face to a cloudless sky. Within the tapestry of this early Phil Spector production — his trademark reverb eternally associated with Romance and Death (two conditions Spector knew all too well) — the voice of Priscilla Paris is a siren sound from the American Beyond. We could be hearing a dream goddess lullaby from the whispering gallery, or sweet nothings from the crypt. We don't know. We'll never know. Just as Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood keeps us guessing with the elusive murmur that “Sharon Tate will never die,” granting her a gaudy, wondrous L.A. to cavort in where it's 1969 forever and movie stars still matter, so we find ourselves in Tarantino’s version of paradise (complete with flame throwers to the face). In this oneiric echo chamber, momentarily shared by Lynch and Tarantino, Surrealism smiles down upon a vision of American blondness; muscle cars soaked in sunlight; the terrible ecstasy of unending motion; candy for the eye and ear.

David Lynch’s favorite film, to this day, remains Otto e Mezzo, directed by Western Europe's sorcerer of confectionary delights, Federico Fellini; the man who put the “dolce” in La Dolce Vita. And here you have a fleeting taste of ideologies swirled together and spun like ribbon candy: a blur of four-wheeled luxury from the New World, zooming past regional splendor into that fraternity of man: the socio-economic nirvana imagined by Karl Marx.

Careening from one via to another at harrowing, white-knuckle speeds, Fellini was heard to lament that “Some of the neo-realists seem to think that they cannot make a film unless they have a man in old clothes in front of the camera.” George Bluestone, recording these words in 1957 for the pages of Film Culture, was sittings in the literal passenger seat of the ideal metaphor of post-war ebullience in action: that famous Black Chevy skirting the Italian Scylla (the Vatican) and its equally dogmatic Charybdis (the Party); expert, 20th century precision guiding them through Roman streets with graffiti-scrawled churches proudly bearing the hammer and sickle. At those velocities, anything could make sense.

“What for you is the greatest human quality?”, Bluestone asks. Fellini responds, “Love of one’s fellows,” a period-appropriate oath that rings true to his brand of ecumenical solidarity.

“The greatest fault?”

“Egoism.”

Try, if you will, to imagine our more locally sourced egoists nodding along with Fellini in soulful agreement on that one. As a kind of compatriot of Edgar Allan Poe, David Lynch (and, to some extent, Tarantino) spawns from his abiding axiom that “The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetic topic in the world.” In Lynch’s hands, American television has become a brightly lit seance for Poe’s ethereal dead. Immortal creatures afflicted with the dream of physical existence, then afflicting the dreamers. Twin Peaks: The Return modifies Poe's axiomatic truth with great help from Amanda Seyfried's Becky and her pair of visionary's eyes, melting Spector's dark edifice of sugar in deathless, Sternbergian close-up — iridescent search lights, ever more urgently scanning the sky above for a sun to swallow her whole. We can only witness and internalize this shimmering ingenue trading places with Old Sol, as if the drugs she's consumed have entered our system and not hers.

Filmmakers like Fellini and Lynch celebrate bodily extremes in intriguing, if differing ways that should naturally gallop right beyond the pale but nevertheless become wholly, weirdly digestible. It is perhaps the innocent glee, even wonderment, of these artists in the vast variety of shapes the human body can assume; innocence which acts as a giant eraser for every awareness on our part of how physical representation in the age of political correctness is meant to function. Lynch is able to present the disabled as by turns childlike, mysterious or magical beings without ever worrying about lending them agency (The Elephant Man's John Merrick is a passive whipping boy for seemingly the whole of Victorian London) or the lie of adult sophistication (the latest Twin Peaks iteration includes a pint-sized hitman who whines like a puppy when his icepick is broken).

Fellini's dwarfs and grotesques, on the other hand, emerge from the struggle of a one-time Marc'Aurelio cartoonist willing one-dimensional images into three-dimensional embodiment. His big women, of course, are fetish figures. They always were. Gargantuan beauties, evidence of a sexual ideal formed in infancy: the big Italian mammissima, seen from below. As Fellini grew into a rather large adult himself, this ideal was simply re-scaled accordingly (even the icy mountain of Anita Ekberg takes on new implication). Goddesses all, they are, however, not meant for conventional movie stardom.

And what of Tarantino? Once Upon a Time's Margot Robbie IS the no-longer-doomed Sharon Tate as she watches herself on the big screen; enjoying a thrill that few have ever known so guilelessly that any half-baked charges of narcissism shrivel to nullity before they can escape a single throat. Here before us is an essential glimpse into the vanishing phenomenon of movie stardom itself, reflexive handwringing from the woke balconies notwithstanding. Tarantino has at last achieved something transcendental: even his grotesques — slack-jawed, gap-toothed, gormless members of the Manson Family conflated with more contemporary Identitarian cultists on the lookout for 'Lookism', knives unsheathed — are downright mythic. Robbie's Tate is a visage both generically perfect and possessed by the angels, every one of them a blond resident of LA County, sincere and unknowable as desert light.  

The vampires, creatures of night slain by sunlight, infiltrated the movie theaters in the 1920s and never left. They sit next to us in the dark, having ceded the power to hypnotize us to the glowing screen itself. Photochemical vagaries invariably allow movie darkness to behave in impossible ways; as if the physical properties of film itself knew no rules, and thus invited us to accept its essential anarchy without question. Before us is a darkness that GLOWS.

A Black & White image flipped into negative can produce black fire, or the black sunlight which illuminated the Transylvanian forests of Nosferatu, through which a box-like carriage rattles at Mack Sennett speed. But with only the smallest underexposure, a little dupey degradation of the print, or even a little imagination (such collaboration is not discouraged), this liquid blackness will spread anywhere, everywhere; the most luminous pestilence known to creation. Be it in the laughing nightmare of Fleischer cartoons of old (Out of the Inkwell, indeed) or Jean Epstein's photogenie phantasmagoria, we're left to wonder. Is daylight burning out the corner of a building, or is it the blackness of the building which is eating into the sky? As with so many such questions, film permits us no answer. We are to simply watch as characters smudge, their shadows emanating out beyond themselves, pulsing and flickering with an obsidian internal flame.

By the time Jean Epstein adapted The Fall of the House of Usher in 1928, it could wisely be said that Poe had been already aggrandized through the mechanism of carbon-arc projection; which is but one way to say that the vision that once seemed unharnessable, had at last been industrialized. Dragooned. Pressed into an ever more modern service at a pace to be measured in frames-per-second. Artists like Epstein and Chomon were the first generation to wield an immense cultural and commercial instrument; at once abidingly real and totally incomprehensible. No medium of expression predating cinema could so thoroughly lift audiences from linear time, or could as convincingly, in the words of Jean Epstein, render death as a conscious state.

Transcendentalism barely scratches the surface here. A more apposite term — the one he nuances in his film theory, “photogenie” (a genesis out of light) — pulls transitory moments, otherwise escaping human perception, into focus. If Poe engrosses us in Romantic conceptions of death as a means to visionary truth, Epstein reveals that same supposedly “elusive” end in our earthly world of telephones, sports cars, Kodak cameras for the every-man and moderne manicures for up-to-the-minute dandies.

The Victorians were falling away. And with them a system of reality contained in narrow, overwrought performances. Withered technique as a means of reflecting Nature — or, to quote Balzac, the “conjugation of objects with light” — was displaced, uncrowned by Jean Delville’s Death (1890), which embodies an altogether different kind of virtuosity, one no Academy could ever comprehend. The charcoal drawing and ode to Edgar Allan Poe’s Masque of the Red Death yearns with a combination of verve and starkness toward a capital “G” Gloom destined to escape salons.

Coming of age in a series of shady elsewheres — the fairgrounds, nickelodeon parlors and movie palaces of an Edwardian America — nitrate and its twinkling mineral essence gave Poe's crepuscular light its time to shine and  thereby illuminate the world. No longer held in the solitary confinement of a page of reproduced text or an image, however still, rendered in paint or ink. Poe's singularly tormented vision was finally written alchemically, in cinematographic rays beamed through silver salts; into moving images of such aggressive vitality as to blast every rational thing from one's mind.

All hail magic mirrors! Celestial mandalas! Giant eggs and butterfly women! Segundo de Chomón's The Red Spectre (1907) ruthlessly invades our eyes with a wraith-magician dissolving through his coffin lid in a red, hand-tinted, flame-flickering hell. His caped, skull-masked presence was to herald the manic new thespic truth that, from this moment forward, the art of acting is in how you respond to light, and how light responds to you. The Specter of Chomon's dark bauble is in every element Poe's Red Death — japing and performing tricks for us, his adoring fans and welcome guests, before announcing our doom — literary metaphor slammed against a literal backdrop of amber stalactites, pellucid as an ossuary.

Doctor Pretorius might have been musing on the history of cinema in 1935’s The Bride of Frankenstein when he said: “Sometimes I have wondered whether life wouldn't be much more amusing if we were all devils, no nonsense about angels and being good.”

by Daniel Riccuito, Tom Sutpen and David Cairns

[bestsounds1]

Top 10 Best Floorstanding Speakers Under 1000

Floorstanding speakers are the best option when you want to boost the quality and loudness of your home audio system. They fit very well into large rooms and look attractive when next to the television stand. Also, they are the best speakers that can be used for the open floor spaces because they offer exceptional output and cover all audio frequencies. This is why we choose the best floorstanding speakers under 1000 so don't go through the hassle of searching and trying to find the best. This means you need to plan carefully when you decide to buy one. For example, you should take into account the color scheme and availability of space in the room. Other features have to be considered to ensure the floorstanding speakers offer quality sound in the house. Choosing the right speaker from the many floorstanding speakers available for sale can be a challenging task because of many brands in the market. You can also read more about Floor Standing Speakers With Subwoofer. ImageBrandDetails

Emotiva Audio T1 Tower SpeakersCheck Price

Q Acoustics 3050i Floorstanding SpeakerCheck Price

NHT C Series C-4 Floor-Standing 4-Way Tower SpeakerCheck Price

KEF Q550 Floorstanding SpeakerCheck Price

ELAC Uni-fi UF5 Floorstanding SpeakerCheck Price

Polk Audio TSi500 Floorstanding SpeakerCheck Price

Klipsch RF-82 II Reference Series Floorstanding LoudspeakerCheck Price

Onkyo SKF-4800 2-Way Bass Reflex Floor-standing SpeakersCheck Price

Sony SS-CS3 3-Way 4-Driver Floor-Standing SpeakerCheck Price

Polk Audio Monitor 70 Series II Tower SpeakerCheck Price Top 10 best floorstanding speakers under 1000

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1. Emotiva audio T1 floorstanding speaker

This floorstanding speaker from Emotiva Audio is paramount because of superb sound quality, which allows you to hear every detail in the music without the slightest hint of fatigue and harshness. Notably, it has high-frequency air folded ribbon driver, which is used for high-frequency reproduction and designed for the woven fiber mid-range. Likewise, the precision crossover is made of high-quality components with each audio spectrum for the appropriate drivers. Subsequently, it has an attractive Acoustic Signature cabinet that features the futuristic faceted design used to minimize room interactions and diffraction. Even more, it has a front bezel that comes with stylish black lacquer satin material and elegant magnetically attached grill. Check out our bookshelf speaker collections. Features High-frequency air folded ribbon driverAttractive Acoustic Signature cabinetHigh-quality precision crossoverHas front bezel

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2. Q Acoustics 3050i Pair Floorstanding Speaker

When looking for the floorstanding speaker that can be used in the house, this is the one because it has high technology and design principles. As an illustration, it uses the technique of Point-to-Point bracing to reduce the vibrations of intrusive cabinet making more precise soundstage and also pure sound. Similarly, the Helmholtz Pressure Equalizer technology is used to eliminate sympathetic resonance, which is within an enclosure. It comes with the twin precision drivers, which has the measurements of 165mm and 22mm. The 22mm high-frequency decouple driver creates a wide range of surrounding and even the stereo dispersion. Check out our ceiling speaker collections. Features Point-to-Point bracing techniquesHas Helmholtz Pressure Equalizer technologyTwin precision driversHas wide stereo dispersion

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3. NHT C Series Floorstanding Speaker

This is one of the best floorstanding speakers under 1000 which you can choose if you want to add an entertainment system in your house because of high-quality sound. It has an aluminum dome tweeter, which is one-inch used for the lower midrange. Additionally, frequency response ranges between 45Hz and 20kHz, the sensitivity of 86dB, nominal impedance of 6 ohms, and the minimum impedance of 4 ohms. Furthermore, the two polypropylene cone woofer of 6.5 inches are used to eliminate general clutter and lower the frequency sonic issues. Also, it comes with NHT's IC3-ARC and 2 CS-10 subwoofers for the height channels. Check out our portable speaker collections. Features Aluminum dome tweeterTwo polypropylene cone wooferFrequency response ranging between 45Hz and 20kHzCome with NHT's IC3-ARC2 CS-10 subwoofers

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4. KEF Q550 Floorstanding Speaker

KEF is the floorstanding speaker manufacturer that has exceptional and experience engineered speakers. This speaker has improved white vinyl finishes and sleek matte black finish, which makes its cabinet have a unique feature. In the same way, it comes with one bass driver of 5.25 inches and two bass radiators of 5.25 inches. Likewise, it has a Uni-Q Driver Array, which is designed to smooth out the treble frequencies and also re-imagined crossovers by providing more accurate and precise bass. Moreover, the broad spectrum assists in balancing the quality of the sound by producing excellent treble and bass, and that is why it listed as one of the best floor standing speakers under 1000. Check out our soundbar speaker collections. Features White vinyl finishesSleek matte black finishUni-Q Driver ArrayOne bass driver of 5.25 inchesTwo bass radiators of 5.25 inchesHas broad-spectrum

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5. ELAC UF5 Uni-fi Floorstanding Speaker

ELAC is my favorite, the best floor standing speakers under 1000, this company has for long known for producing high-quality home entertainment systems, and now it has come up with this floorstanding speaker that offers excellent services to the customers. To illustrate, it comes with a thin black laminate that has a slight pattern that imitates wood texture. Likewise, the speaker has the sturdy base fitted with the knob dials that are used to adjust four feet corners during replacement. Moreover, it has one 4-inch aluminum cone and a 1-inch soft-dome tweeter used for the midrange frequency. The frequency response is between 42 Hz and 25,000 Hz and the speaker sensitivity of 85 dB. Equally, it has a sophisticated aluminum and crossover woofer which makes the sound to be higher than its competitors. Check out our subwoofer speaker collections. Features Has thin black laminateSturdy base fitted with the knob dialsOne 4-inch aluminum cone1-inch soft-dome tweeterSophisticated aluminum and crossover woofer

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6. Polk TSi500 Audio Floorstanding Speaker

When looking for the best floorstanding speaker, Polk has come with this exceptional one that has surpassed all its competitors. It has the enclosure of solid MDF with the three-quarter-inch baffles, which damp energy-stealing vibrations and eliminates internal resonances. Additionally, it comes with the one-inch polymer composite and silk dome tweeter, which has an exceptional response frequency of between 28 Hz and 25,000 Hz, and the impedance of 8 ohms. Besides, it comes with a clear and crisp sound, which has a high-quality audio output. Also, it is equipped with four bi-laminate fiber organic cone woofers of a 6.5-inch diameter that make the sound to be heard in a long distance. If you are looking for the best budget floor standing speakers under 1000, then this is what you are looking for. Features The enclosure of solid MDFHas three-quarter-inch bafflesOne-inch polymer composite and silk dome tweeterFour bi-laminate fiber organic cone woofersHas clear and crisp sound

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7. Klipsch Series RF-82 II Floorstanding Speaker

When you talk about the best floorstanding speaker, this product from Klipsch has a whole range of enjoyable features that you cannot avoid. Mainly, it comes with an exceptional vinyl wood-grain veneer cabinet, which has the most exciting design. In fact, the bronze color drivers give it a pleasing and unique appearance, which can go well with the contemporary and modern house design. Both the sound, quality, and design makes this floor speaker among best floor standing speakers under 1000 dollars. Furthermore, it uses Tractrix Horn technology for the lifelike sound, which improves reliability, reduces distortion, reduces energy use, improves sound output, and reduce large soundstage. Titanium tweeter with the linear travel suspension provides an open and natural sound that makes you feel like you are in the recording studio. Features Exceptional vinyl wood-grain veneer cabinetUses Tractrix Horn technologyHas bronze color driversHas Titanium tweeter

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8. Onkyo SKF-4800 Bass Reflex 2-Way Floorstanding Speaker

Onkyo has come with this best floorstanding speaker that has outstanding amplifiers and speakers. Notably, it is made of 1/2 inches mild, thick density fiber wood, which is robust, anti-resonant, and sturdy. Also, it comes with the 2.5 cm soft-dome tweeter and twin 16 cm cone woofer, which has the frequency response ranging between 55 Hz and 35 kHz. Subsequently, it has exceptional sound quality, which covers a broad spectrum with outstanding quality. Also, the speakers have a sensitivity of 86dB, which is slightly higher when compared with their competitors and the impedance of 6-ohm that match with the amplifier. Features 1/2 inches mild, thick density fiber wood2.5 cm soft-dome tweeterTwin 16 cm cone wooferBroad-spectrum with outstanding qualitySensitivity of 86dBImpedance of 6-ohm

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9. Sony SS-CS3 4-Driver 3-Way Floorstanding Speaker

Want to know why this speaker is our top floor standing speakers under 1000? Here is why this product from Sony is the leading floorstanding speaker because of its quality amplifiers and super sound. As an illustration, its cabinet is made of wood with a black finish, which fits with contemporary home designs. More importantly, it comes with a three-way and four-driver speaker system, which has the peak power of 145W and the impedance of 6 Ohm. Besides, it has a crisp and clean sound, which is exceptional with the frequency response from 45 Hz to 50 kHz. It comes with a polyester main tweeter, which is I inch and a super tweeter, which makes and produces excellent sound. Features Made of wood with black finishThree-way and four-driver speaker systemCrisp and clean soundOne inch polyester main tweeterSuper tweeter

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10. Polk Audio Series II Monitor 70 Floorstanding Speaker

Polk has come up with this best floorstanding speaker, which produces high-quality sound. In particular, it is either black grain or cherry wood finishes with titanium faces, which make it have an attractive appearance. In the same way, it uses Mylar capacitors in the circuit that resist moisture and can withstand high-voltage. Similarly, this speaker comes with four enormous drivers that produce high, low, and mid frequencies. Also, the crisp and clear sound make it exceptional to listen and hear the slightest sound. Likewise, it is equipped with a dynamic dome balance tweeter, which is 1 inch and four dynamic balance woofers, which are 4 inches each. Features Has either black grain or cherry wood finishesMade of titanium facesFour enormous driversCrisp and clear soundDynamic dome balance tweeter which is 1 inchFour dynamic balance woofers which are 4 inches each

Factors to consider when buying floorstanding speakers

Designs of floorstanding speakers

This is an important factor to consider when buying floorstanding speakers. It involves dimensions, housing material, housing, and color of the speaker. Lighter and smaller speakers are ideal to be mounted in small spaces, though this can affect the sound quality and frequency range. Housing type is also essential when considering the design of the speaker, for you may choose between the cabinets or terminals. This is according to the size of the space set by the speakers and your preferences. The connection terminals generally offer wiring options and more space, although fuller cases sometimes offer better sound quality.

Floor speaker drivers

Drivers are different speakers that make up the floorstanding speakers. It is crucial to know what they're and what the performance of every speaker is. The combination of these drivers helps to complement each other, making the entire performance of the floorstanding speakers. This also will help to amplify the sound so that it can be heard from far.

Room size and configuration

This is very important when choosing the floorstanding speakers. The size of the room and the configuration of the room must be precise because of the vibration from the speaker. Windows and hardwood floors reverberate the house while the curtains and carpets absorb it. Also, the large rooms require a powerful speaker, while smaller rooms do not need it, for it will be irritating. You need to explore the room before you go for one.

Sound quality

What may seem incredible to one who is buying the floorstanding speakers is sound quality. Sound quality is different for one person to the other; therefore, before you buy a floorstanding speaker, bring the favorite album, and listen to it. It should balance the sound, making it easy to listen to it for a long time.

Conclusion

Buying the floorstanding speakers can be difficult, but for a budget of $ 1,000, you can get serious sound brands. These top 10 best floorstanding speakers under 1000 give you the real picture of their features. This will ease your work when looking for the best floorstanding speakers because you have every product at your fingertips. Take your time to think about these products and choose one that will suit your taste.

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[deerbydesign]

The Rich are a Funny Bunch

Writing from a DnD oneshot DM’d by the always amazing @scarysans

And the wonderful flustered lesbian gunslinger by the best @oh-look-what-ive-done-now. These pieces are best read together because we constantly split the party.

2,000 gold pieces, why pay when you can sneak on? It’s just for a good time. I wouldn’t be hurting anyone, and it’d get me away from this place. Tradoshia has gotten boring, old and holding some less than desirable memories.

I had seen the entire construction of the ship, The Future’s Voyage, it was truly fascinating. But a better thought to board it. A massive and luxurious ship, and only the finest accommodations.

The rumors of what awaits passengers is tempting, the finest food and entertainment, and of course the passengers themselves are far more interesting to myself.

The dawn breaks, with that, so do the people around.

“Did you hear? I hear…” people’s gossip is only interesting when it is about you, or something very important. The rich are a funny bunch, either enjoying the most confusing thing or being disgusted by the best joys life has to offer.

“I heard the grandest piano player in all of the Liao’Drinson has agreed be on this voyage.”

With the sounds of more people boarding, and the ship and its surroundings coming to life, in the safety of the cargo deck, I don some finer clothes than my usual get up. Pieces picked up from less than polite clients, but all together a rather flattering ensemble.

Going towards the stairs to the upper deck, I run into another. Surprising, but also not so. But she looks to belong, so why sneak aboard? Interest slightly peaked, but my own agenda is currently more important than why someone else choose to be a stowaway. Shock is on her face as well, before she gathers herself and brushes past me and up the stairs. Watching her retreating form, an elf if I’m not mistaken, I turn to look if there is maybe another way up. Not good to draw suspicion of two people walking up from the same place. No other options come to mind, maybe some where, the ship is rather large. Before I can trail the woman,

-Thunk Thunk-

“Aye, do you remember locking this. I can’t remember. Who was in charge, who was here last night?” A gruff voice calls from above the hatch. Damn.

More rustling comes from above. As the other one with me move to hide, my eyes glow, and what others might call a sadistic smile cross my lips, and a whisper I’m sure reaches the other side comes out.

“I suggest you look behind you” the voice different from my own, a similar quality, and yet entirely foreign to my ears.

“What was that? Must have just been one of the obnoxious children of the guests” The sounds continue. More fiddling with the lock.

“Charlie is this what you’re looking for?”

The lock pops, and I slink behind one of the crates. The hatch opens and I suck in a breath, praying that he doesn’t see. Either of us. Where one rat is, there are surely others. With the light streaming down, I can make out the form of a gruff man, human, and surely one to have seen his share of sea days.

“I thought I heard something down here…” he trails off, and the rhythmic sound of a quill checking off spots on a paper fill the room. The steps move further away, possibly making his way from back to front. There is a sudden halt in the sound, a muffled shout before the there is a clatter on the ground.

Getting up, the main threat gone, through unknown reasons, but enough for me. I start making my way towards the stairs, the elven woman hissing through her teeth, “What are you doing?”

“What do we have here?” a black clad man steps forward. The only visible portion of his face, his eyes. At his side rests two knives and a couple vials.

“Oh well well well don’t exactly want to deal with you or you, I'll save this poison for later then.”

Shit. This is not what I needed.

Before ducking away, they throw two daggers. There’s a grunt as one sinks into the elf, and I book it towards the stairs. I don’t like fighting, and running is never not an option.

“You can come here and fucking help me!” I hear from the upper deck. When it becomes a threat to me, I will do something.

He bolts up the stairs behind me, flinging a dagger into my side. Instead of staying there, it reappears in his hand. What the hell?

If you want to play with magic, buddy…

With a curl of my hands, a strange and comforting power begins flowing, a wispy purple, before shooting out at the masked man. He flinches, bowing down a bit. I snarl at him as the elf runs up behind him and pulls out a rapier.

Two daggers slam into my side, the second one shaking me, the spell flickering. Heavy growls sound from me as the elf misses. One more dagger has me stagger down. It’s been awhile since I’ve been knocked out, Marxriel was usually the cause of that happening, and he hasn't been around for years.

Coming to, I see the elf, long hair and green eyes alight with slight concern. Seeing me not dead, she walks off. Getting my head, I notice we seem to have deported, a relief. Away from wherever she went, I begin looking through the body of our attacker. Pocketing his gold, I find a small note held closed by a black ribbon. Getting the attention of the other, we both read it:

You’re goal here is to simply remove the captain from her position before we arrive at Brigmeet. From there, you and two other associates of mine, will also deal with the council members waiting to greet the ship. Any inability to complete these actions will result in no payment and the possible eradication of the contract’s member.

“Maybe we should, inform authorities about this body and this note? Might be a good idea?” It's a simple suggestion, one that would probably work in any other situation. But, given the less than legal circumstance on myself…

“Either way, I think we’re stuck together. As much as I hate to say.” The last part is almost growled.

With a raised brow, “Do you have an issue with tieflings?” And I can't help the bit of disdain leak through. Yes, she saved me, but there are somethings that don't change in people. “No, I just have an issue with other people.” So we have a lone wolf.

“Fair enough.” The quicker an agreement can be made, the faster I can get out of this. I have enough problems to deal with.

“You can call me Cass. Ofriel.” An interesting name. Ofriel… where have I heard it before? Oh, not to mind, it will hardly matter. I don't stay long in people's lives, nor do they stay long in mine.

“Dez.”

“Dez…?”

“Just Dez for now.” The less she knows. Though she already seems to be reluctant about this alliance.

“Given the fact that we aren’t supposed to be on this ship, we should maybe try and just, lay low.”

Resting for just a bit, we collect ourselves and freshen up, a bit of magic cleaning away any traces of a fight. Together we walk up to the top deck, hundreds of people milling around, fancy outfits and crew members bustling around. What a sight. It's mildly overwhelming, the crowds I deal with never reaching more than 20 or so people at a time. But there is a thrill in the number the people.

Cass begins walking towards the back, I look into the crowd. A smile pulls my lips, and begin walking towards where people crowd a bit. Slowly, my gait changes, as does the way I hold myself. Taking in the others around, I mimic and twist their gestures, suiting them to myself. Apparently, adapting works rather well, as it seems to have caught the attention of many of the other guests. Swishing hips and looking at the others dancing, several people move to ask for a dance.

The first to offer a hand, a nobleman’s child and with an air of sophistication.

“May I have this dance?” with practiced confidence, I lift a brow at the boy.

“You may, if I may have a name.”

“My name? Brieane of course.” Accepting the hand, the dance starts slowly. The boy seems shaky on his feet, the confidence when asking gone. Perhaps a crueler smile pulls my lips as I begin leading, but the laughter that follows lacks anything malicious. Slowly he tries to match, and we make our way across the deck. The dance comes to an end, and with a small bow, he winks before turning away. He was cute, I think as I turn around, tail flicking with the momentum, giving a light tap just under his butt. He gives a start, and chuckles and walks off.

Scanning the crowd, I step towards an elven couple. The woman sneers at me, turning back. I murmur,“...racists” and turn on my heel, only to look into Cass’s eyes.

“Did you find anything?”

“No, I’m getting to know the passengers.”

“We need to do something,” her voice is tense, I see she's taking this very seriously. “There is people’s safety at risk.” and I can’t tell if it is for herself or me, but there is a threat in those words. Being too tense draws suspicions, and you can't get anything done if you can't find a person.

“If you can move through a crowd, you can find anyone.” Maybe it’s a bit rude, but knowing a crowd has its advantages, anyone knows that. Strange girl.

The crowd begins murmuring and moving towards the back of the ship. The last of land disappearing on the horizon, the official start of being at sea beginning.

The musicians suddenly stop, and a horn and whistle sound from behind, making me jump just a bit. Turning around, I see a tall human woman, sun kissed skin and hair wavy from a life spent on the sea.

“Well then, hello there. I’m your captain for this voyage.” Her voice is rough and lively, with confidence that no doubt has more bite than bark.

As mummers in the crowd begin breaking out, she gives a huff that is all too familiar

“No no, I'm your captain. I don’t have any interests in any of your own interactions, I just ask that you don’t go to the cargo deck below.”

“After all you snobs wouldn’t even want to, you have all the money you could want.” The last bit under her breath. I couldn’t imagine any of these people, not even Cass if she were a normal passenger, to below deck anywhere other than their rooms.

“But, you’ll find that the first deck below are your quarters, as you all have paid,” I can’t help but chuckle at that. But I would never want to be rich. But I see where the captain is coming from in her dislike of the upper class. I too have had my fair share of experience with the rich and entitled.

Out of the corner of my eye I do see a rather amusing sight. The tall elf I’ve come to be acquainted with, absolutely smitten at the sight of the captain. The lovestruck look is hard to miss, and I can’t help but chuckle at the drop in the serious attitude I’ve come to know from her. Only a few of the woman’s words strike an interest, but I do show my respect and give her my full attention. Why anyone would give her anything less is beyond me.

Cassandra seems in a daze at the end of the captain’s speech, still looking at where she once stood after jumping down from her spot and retreating to her quarters. The crowd moves back, dispersing around the deck and milling around with each other.

Strolling near some kids, well I would certainly call them kids. Never would I see them in my line of work. I watch as the four of them point out and laugh at the other guests. And I certainly can't blame them, the rich are frequently stupid and make fools of themselves.

Moving closer,their eyes are drawn to me, funny as it seems almost everyone has been doing that.

“I see you're enjoying watching the other guests” I chuckle out.

“Why, yes, of course. I mean after all, they are quite hilarious with what ridiculous actions they take. Just look at that one over there”, and the boy points out a woman, low cut dress, trying to poorly seduce and hang off of any man within reach.

“or that one, look at her,” the girl points, snickering. And I see the familiar form of Cassandra, leaning strangely against the railing. A weak attempt at an aura of mystery. What is she doing?

“They think they’re so interesting. I bet she couldn't tell a dagger from a small knife. And that outfit-”

There is only so much I can stand for hearing, especially know how hard she's trying to save everyone's collective asses. Closing my eyes and sighing through my nose, I turn to face the girl.

A grin that could easily be described as predatory pulls my lip up, exposing the elongated canines. “Well I suggest you make better insight into those you laugh at, dear. As she happens to be a very close friend of mine, and holds quite the position, as does the rest of her family.”

Either at my words or the show of teeth, probably both, the girl swallows hard before letting out a nervous laughter.

“Oh course, I mean, after all. She's really quite impressive. With the ability to pull of an outfit like that.” her face is flushed as she tries to avert my stare. People should know their place. Laughing at the woman very obviously trying to gain the favor of someone through sexual means, is very different than pointing out and assuming someone’s life story.

Getting my attention, is one of the human boys of the group, a stylish suit with a vest and boots laced up to his mid calf.

“So tell me, why are you here?” an innocent enough question.

“Perhaps you'll find out another time,” I turn my back and begin walking away, but not before hearing,

“I do always like a mysterious one” in a wistful tone.

Maybe if I dated, or if I even settled. But I’m not someone for long term relationships of any sort. Much less someone you bring home to a wealthy family. I am what you bring to make someone jealous or to get disowned by your family. I am a trophy to these people and nothing more.

Looking out at the deck, several different discussions seem to be going on, important deals most likely. Maybe mingling with these folks will give me better insight for what we’re looking for. An elven woman and a man most certainly her husband seem to be speaking closely with a dwarven individual.

Making my way toward them, just as I become within hearing distance for their conversation, it stops and the woman turns toward me.

“Excuse me, can I assist you?” her voice is curt with a hidden edge.

Caught, words that are not completely false slip out, “Oh, I was just admiring your dress.”

“Why thank you,” she smiles and straightens her dress.

“May I ask your name?”

With all the politeness and proper etiquette I was never raised with, I extend a hand and bow towards the lady, “You may call me Dez.”

Satisfied with the response, she leads me somewhat into the previous conversation,“You see, right now my husband and I are discussing land trade between and this kind dwarven man’s family.”

Giving a polite bow towards the man, the elven woman takes my attention again.

“You may call me m’lady. Or as you were so kind,” I smile at the cheeky response, ”you may call me Landrelia.”

“Landrelia, a lovely name for an even lovelier face,”

“You’re too kind. And this is business in which no one need be kind,” the sharpness of her words catches me off guard, but I do suppose, business is business, and these folks are especially ruthless.

“Thankfully I’m not one to do business.” Stepping away from the conversation, I slip my tail carefully around her leg.

“Now, now. You may want to watch while you put that thing around people’s ankles,” but the tone is anything but disapproving.

Scanning the crowd, there isn’t anyone that seems to stand out. No lone wolves, or anyone particularly strange. Giving a pout, I continue walking around. Seeing nothing else of interest, I make my way back to the open portion of the deck where a few are still dancing.

Two individuals stand out, an older male and a younger one, both in armor and shields. Just watching, strange. Looking closer, I recognize the symbol of Sarenrae on each of them. And the boy’s shield, shaped like the holy symbol as well. The boy, is cute. And there are a few others that I recognize.

Surprisingly, I see Landrelia without her husband. Making my way toward her, she looks and smiles. A hand extended, she takes it.

In her own way, a way of someone used to subtly being in control, she tries to dominates the dance. The music almost seems to pick up and the surrounding nobles watch and back up. It is elegant, but almost a battle. Back and forth, trying to best the other, while still keeping the elements of the dance.

Ending with a bow to each other, and a bow to the spectators.

There is a smile on her lips, “a pleasure, truly.”

The music changes suddenly and she perks up with recognition. A more genuine smile than the last passes her face and she shoots a wink at me. A song I’m not familiar with is enhanced by her voice, gentle a floating. An enchanting sound, that I try to follow. Pulling out my lyre, while not as grand as the elf’s voice, adds a nice touch to the piece. The dancing begins again, not as intense as before, but none the less stunning. The song comes to a close, and she smiles once again. Looking taken aback by either my ability to keep up, or my ability to impress, but she pulls out a kerchief from her pocket. Presenting it with a small bow, she winks and walks off.

It’s been a long while since I last received any favors of a lady. Especially one so formal.

As the sun begins setting, the band plays a softer song, one especially fitting for the sight.

“So, you seem to be having a wonderful time up here.” Is that bitterness, or just annoyance? It’s hard to tell with this one.

“Surprisingly, yes.” It’s not often I get along well with people of this class, especially being treated as if I’m even close to the same standing.

“And as much as I hate you ruin your fun, I think we’re going to have to start making moves. At least when people start clearing out. No?” Ah, straight to business.

“Yes, that fair enough,” it seems I’ve been saying that much more than normal. Though, today has been full of deals that I would probably never make given the choice.

“We need to get the captain’s attention somehow. I was thinking we could grab that body and stick it in front of the door and make an addition to the thief's note. Because I don’t believe we’ll be able to talk to her.” Frustrated for good reason, but getting upset doesn’t help anything. Except maybe in Marxriel’s case, though it just made him hit harder.

“I can at the very least do something to get her attention, she might not be happy about it, but..” playing tricks with magic isn’t my favorite thing in the world to do, and especially not to the captain.

“I don’t think we want her upset at us before we do something, just a thought. So we can maybe slip the note under the door or we can get the body to prove it.”

“Bringing just the note might make it seem as though we are the threats. But dragging up a body will certainly draw attention”

“How do we get her notified and the note for her? Because we can’t get near her and nobody will trust us.”

I watch her studying the office, and maybe the people going in and out of it. Seeing as she has this covered, or at the very least does not require me for the time, I scan through the crowd again.

While rude, the kids did certainly have something right. The drunk and stupid are the best type of people, in the way they are the worst. I spot a man I saw Cass talking to once, obviously drunk with another man.

They’re mumbling and can barely tell what they’re doing, the massive goblets going to their heads.

“Yeees, it was absolutely hilarious and,” his words begins slurring more. “Oh sorry I need a bit of a pick me up,” I watch him rummage around his pockets, shock in his eyes. I continue walking near with a raise brow as he begins asking about a ‘snuff box’.

Walking past, I feel their eyes on me as I brush my tail across both their legs.

“Now that’s what I like to see!” cat calls, now this feels more at home. Though, if actually wearing clothes that cover me can get this type of reaction, I can only imagine how one of my costumes would make them act.

“Hey, you- you wanna come to my cabin tonight?” It’s the man I saw Cass speaking with earlier, I can’t imagine why she would do such a thing.

Coyly I tilt my head, “Depends.”

With confidence only the drunk and wealthy have, one of the men saunters up, wobbly and getting entirely too close for my taste. His breath reeks of alcohol and is blown directly into my face. Either too drunk to notice, or most likely even if he were sober, not one to care, I scrunch up my face.

“Depends on what, sweetheart?” he tries to stretch out the words to make them languid, but just makes a fool of himself.

“On not calling me sweetheart,” there are few things I tolerate, fewer things that are pet names. Not an outright stomp on his foot, but a slow lean before pressing down with my heel.

Turning away, a mumbled and defeated, “well I guess that piece of meat isn’t coming with me.”

The sneer that crosses my face makes many people stay clear of my as I walk off.

A small boy running around the deck and most importantly running to Cassandra surprises me. Watching the interaction, her head shoots up and she gives me a very pointed look. Curiosity peaked, I make my way over. He leads the way to the captain’s quarters, and I can’t help but wonder about the boy. He can’t be more than 12. Opening the door, he steps in and a nervous stutter echos.

“Ma’am, I-I brought them,” I don’t think he’s ever lifted his head.

Stepping into the office, the sight of the captain casually sitting at her desk, feet up on the table and a smile playing on her face.

“Thanks, Nair. Don’t worry, it’s fine” slips out as she tosses the boy a silver piece.

As the boy leaves, I see the two armored guards from before. The younger awkwardly looking around and the other standing stoic.

Seems like Cass made some serious progress in terms of alerting the captain. Carefully dropping the sword and rapier I kept on me, I lift my hands in a gesture of surrender. Lila nods at me as Cass gives a bow.

“Now then, tell me, which one of you is the Ofriel?” Seems like those two have something in common already.

“That would be me,” someone’s voice sounds strained. I look over at her and see the faint blush.

“Ofriel, interesting. Now then, why have you given me this letter? “

“Well it’s kind of a matter a safety-”

“No shit,” aggressive, but not overly so.

“And we wanted to alert you and help in any way we can. We aren’t exactly here to watch people get hurt.”

“Well, you may just be in luck. After all, there’s been no threat on my life yet,” a bitter chuckle, “and according to this letter there’s supposed to be one.”

“The cabin boy, Nair, the one you just say walk out, he came to me a while back talking about how he saw a man and a halfling woman hidden in the cargo deck. I don’t know anymore than that, but the boy might. The ship will be reaching Brigmeet on the morrow. If anything happens to this ship or to the council members of Kai’air, it could mean the destruction of the new treaty between Authoxien(?) and all of Kai’aire.”

“We, will do our best to take care of it.”

There air is tense as we make out leave.

There is a period where we’re at odds. I see no issue in trying to head to the cargo deck at this point, going about the rooms and such would hardly be strange. But Cassandra suggests sneaking down, with the help of a distraction.

A head tilt prompts her to elaborate, “You seem to be quite the eye catcher, so it’s possible that at least I can get down there and wait for you?”

“Fair enough,” as most things tend to be.

“Then it’s a plan. I’ll wait for you,” and unlike most times, I do trust her. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually believed any words said to me.

The sun long set and only a few passengers remain on the upper deck. I walk up to the platform the musicians are set up on, watching them slow and most likely finish playing for the night. Pulling out the pouch of gold from the assassin, “30 gold each if you keep playing. Keep playing and follow my tempo.”

The leader, looks up to me, “And what would you have us do?”

Drawing out the words, in a way to make them lean in just a bit, “I have a bit of an act I do back home, if you can follow the tempo…”

“We can follow anything, we are after all, the best in the Liao’Drinson,” a confidence that isn’t just fueled by cockiness.

“Very glad to hear,” a challenge resting in the last comment. If they really are the best, they wouldn't turn that down.

Sauntering down to the deck, I throw up a few small sparks of magic, I begin slowly swaying my hips, a seductive dance. It's strange to dance in such a public place and not in costume, it's uncomfortable to be without the thin veil that gives me whatever sense of false anonymity. And the distance being on a stage provides, but the best way to get attention, is to be in reach of all that want a touch.

The movements begin flowing together, drawing the attention of the few remaining on the top deck.

As the crowd grows, so does my boldness along with the tempo of the music. Drawing in people in the inner circle, teasing and as flirtatious as I can manage, but it's enough for these people. The crowd grows, distantly I can hear the sounds of people going down a floor to get more people.

“Hey! Look what we’ve got up here. Apparently the life of the party decided to get even better!”

Glancing around, I even see some of the crew watching. Either way, it seems that my routine will still work. I can only imagine how they would react were I fully prepared for this. The moves begin picking up speed and drawing in those close by a cheek or chin, and few kisses and flicks of the tongue.

The show comes to an end, with one last kiss on the cheek. Slowly licking my lips, I give a bow. Many of the viewers a much more flustered than I would expect, but I do suppose they might not be used to such an act. The crowd reluctantly parts, eyes watching the sway of my hips as I move forward, this makes slipping away a bit more troublesome. Inhaling and whispering, just after I start towards the stairs, a small smoke cloud blocks their view. Making my way down the two sets of stairs as quiet as I can, rolling through the hatch of the last set, I pause. From a distance, I can hear the applause. Letting out a breath, I move toward to cargo deck, down the stairs I see Cassandra between some of the crates.

Shuffling closer, she whispers, “There are two people, I know the direction, I don’t know what they’re saying. I think they might be our people,” with that she slowly moves off. Sticking close to her, I’m able to eventually pick up on the two voices she was talking about.

“Are you absolutely certain?” the voice is hushed,

“I don't think-”

Both of them are unsteady, and I can’t make out all of what is being said. They begin start talking about weird things like ‘tears’ and ‘viper’s tongue’ and poisons.

I see Cass slowly pull out the rapier from earlier and coat it with something from a vial, much like the one from the assassin. Handing me one, she instructs me to do the same.

Slinking between boxes and staying what I assume is out of view from where I heard the voices coming from, I can only gawk at Cassandra. Brazenly walking about, almost clumsily, I try to reach out and stop her, but the voices notice first.

“It sees we have company, quickly.” and the small light snuffed out.

Slinking down, I try to listen carefully and stare where the voices were last heard. I manage to make out one of them in the shadows.

As Cass moves forward to the desk, moving to sweep off the vials. Four daggers fly forward, and I see her crash to the floor.

Damn it.

Muscles tense as I hurry to find the other, before taking a deep breath, “Now, now. No need for that right now.”

Looking at the limp body and quickly turn and let loose a small ball of fire at the farther one. Two daggers sink into my side, while another set go wide. Breathing deeply, the impact of the first daggers lessen, the wounds almost closing.

Looking intently at the first one I hit, I feel a surge of arcane power, the same purple energy swirling around my hands before blasting into the halfling’s body. A surge of adrenalin pushes through as I force more energy into the spell, and watch him fall. I rush forward to Cass’s body and another dagger hits me. I give a hiss as I try and stabilize her.

Rushing up to the man, I pull out my rapier, a strange glint on it due to poison coating it. The slash digs deep, him hissing in pain at the poison. I hiss at him as he sinks a blade in my side and my vision goes dark.

Warmth fill me, and I gasp. The pain of the the slashes dissipates as the boy continues pushing out healing magics.

“I’m sorry, but it seems that’s all I’m able to do for now,” he sounds a little disappointed.

“No, no thank you, it’s more than enough. Well, we found those two shady people the boy talked about, and there they are,” I hope she’s doing alright, it seems the cleric used a majority of his magic on me.

“You rest easy now, thank you.”

I see Cass gather up the vials on the table, and head up and decide to make my way back up to the top deck as well. Going straight for the bar. I loath alcohol, and anything that makes me any less in my right mind, but there are some things that need something stronger than just myself. Sauntering up, not even bothering to clean off my clothes, I ask for the strongest drink they'll make while also covering the hiding the taste of alcohol with fruit.

“Uh, that'll be 15 gold,” damn rich people. Placing the rest of the assassin's money on the bar, I take my drink and settle down and watch the moon. The sweet fruity syrup helps ease the burn of the alcohol. I eventually feel someone move up to me, glancing up I see Cass, disheveled and a look of poorly contained jealousy.

“We’re done here, and she says you’re a good dancer.”

“I can teach you if you wish,” the amusement not hidden.

She stomps off and gets a few drinks, and we sit in a companionable silence. It's strange to have someone want to be near you, and not necessarily want anything from you. Drinks long finished, we both head towards the passenger deck, intent on turning in for the night.

Walking down to the lower deck, I remember neither of us have a room. Letting out another sigh, I weigh my options. Strolling forward and picking a door at random, I give a light knock.

Slowly, the door opens, out peers a woman, a light silk nightgown covering her. There is relief at it not being a man, something gentle after today's events are needed.

“Uh, yes. You- you were the dancer weren’t you?” her voice groggy and confused.

I hum in response and she continues, “I must say, I’m sorry I am quite tired,”

“No worries, darling,”

“You were quite impressive, well done. Can I help you?” and I begin trailing a hand under her chin. Her skin feels hot, and I shift my own expression through practiced ease, till she draws me into her room.

She falls asleep before I do, content. I smile at her, a sweet person from what I experienced, and very vanilla. Curling around her, it's nice to be next to someone.

Stretching out, my spine gives a satisfying pop and I roll out of the bed. The woman who so kindly shared her bed with me for the night still fast asleep. Funny how these people have the chance to enjoy everything and choose to sleep through it. Strolling out, fixing myself up with some prestidigitation, I spot Cass. Rumpled, but surprisingly rested looking.

“Did you have fun last night?”

“Why yes, it’s part of my job,” I smirk at the notion.

“Well that’s good.” taking a deep breath, “Do we have anything to do today, besides trying to not get caught as stowaways?”

“I don’t think the captain would allow that at this point.” I watch her duck away at the mention of the captain.

The morning comes around, as do the rest of the passengers. Every once in awhile, I look and see Cass pause in the middle of her conversations- really how is it she’s a stowaway, she looks right at home in these crowds.

I'm not sure if Cass is trying to be subtle. But it's hard to miss the flush the covers her face and the little squeak she makes every time the captain makes an appearance. Cute. It reminds me of the the young women who would sometimes show up at the clubs. Easily flustered and just trying to navigate their feelings. I took it upon myself whenever these types of guests would walk into either mother or mentor them. Whichever one suited the individual.

Watching the woman duck away each time the captain showed up, while endearing, would get her nowhere.

Sliding up beside the elf, I move to shove her in the direction of the captain.

“Are you hitting on her for me?” embarrassed and a tad indignant, though, most would be.

“I can do that for you,” if that’s what she needs. She’s saved my ass frequently in the past 24-hours, and helping her out, in an unconventional way, not outside of what I would do for her.

“Do not, I can’t-”

“Then I suggest you do it for yourself, before I do it for myself,” It’s cruel to play, but it might just motivate her to make a move.

“Oh boy. I’m not exactly experienced- I, I live with my parents, I had no siblings, I didn’t interact with people… I’m not exactly the best flirt,” excuses, excuses. You don’t just, appeal and ease in a crowd or navigating people isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you pick up, out of necessity in my case, but others just learn it.

“It’s endearing, she might like that.” Very few people don’t have a soft spot of the inexperienced and shy.

“I’m going to just stay here,”

Clicking my tongue, I reach for a hold around the elf. She squirms and struggles, but for now, she's stuck with me.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“You’re going to thank me later,” I saw as I continue dragging her toward where Captain Lila is positioned at the wheel.

“I don’t think I will. I saved your life, you don’t need to do this,” and the volume of her yells drop the closer we get.

Lila turns around as we approach, “Yes, uh, how can I help you?”

She stares at the two of us, most likely the scene Cass is causing, “Ofriel, are you okay?”

“Yes- Yes, ma’am. I am very ok. I’m kind of grappled right now, but that’s okay.”

There’s a crack in her voice, “Um, is there anything we can help you with?”

“Not necessarily right now, I think my crew has everything under control.”

“Okay, that’s great.”

“You uh… both of you are… now, this is a little personal, don’t worry I totally understand and I- and if you don’t want to answer. Are you two dating?”

I hear Cass choke at the question, and I quickly shake my head with a smile.

Both our voices overlapping, denying the question.

“No, it’s okay, I understand, I’m- I’m actually cool with it. It’s fine, don’t worry-”

“We like, just met like yesterday!”

“Oh”

“I don’t date,” and I’m surprised when Cass also says those words. That’s usually what I have to tell others.

“O-kay?” she seems rather confused by, probably all of this.

A smirk plays on my lips, “But I think she might be interested in dating you.”

I hear Cass, growl? Choke, I’m not too sure, but the blush that spreads across the captain’s face is well worth it. They’re both so cute.

In that moment, Cass finds it the perfect time to run away. Slipping out of my grip and booking it away with Lila calling after her.

“People these days are so interesting. She reminds me of the- no, the druid was less uh, shy.” and the captain sounds almost wistful. Curious.

After watching Cass, avoid and stare at Lilia whenever she passed by, I huff. You only live once, and humans have much shorter lives than elves. Walking back towards the captain, I begin speaking, “I don’t think she’ll come up to you. Maybe it’s something you have to chase down. I think she’s a little scared

“She just seems a little, she’s a little new to dating. They all learn eventually, we all do. It’s kind of cute though, to watch them.”

“But if you are interested, she’s rather good,” I don’t catch my words, nor did I think about them before speaking and most certainly how they would sound. Pretending as if I didn’t speak words that sounded like I bedded Cass, I wink towards the captain and walk off. I hear a chuckle and throughout the day I spot the two looking at each other, each time Cass dropping her head.

After Lila returns to her study, I see Cass storm up to me, and I can’t tell if she’s angry or embarrassed.

“Look, that didn’t need to happen”

“I think it did. My line of work is very-”

“I understand it’s your line of work, but I wasn’t looking to get embarrassed in front of nobility. I- I” a sigh,” I guess that’s it then. Just don’t, we don’t need to continue this.”

“This? Which part of this?” she’s so fun to tease.

“The part where you flirt with her for me,” the frustration in her voice keeps building.

“I wasn’t flirting with her at all,”

“You understand what I meant.”

“I don’t believe I do?”

“You can find me if you need me, but please don’t try to grab me again, that would be real nice.”

“Will do,” and she walks off, becoming part of the crowd. I’m sure my expression is similar to a cat at this point, the grin maybe a little sharp, but knowing Cass… I wonder if she’ll get anywhere. I truly hope so. While rough around the edges, she has a good heart.

I start a little at the tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I see Landrelia, once again without her husband. I thought noble couples usually stayed close to each other? The worry is forgotten when she extends a hand. The dance is much different this time, not nearly as much competition in it.

“I can’t imagine how horrifying those two assassins must have been, what with the woman and the man.”

“Surely nothing you haven’t seen before,” she does seem like a rather capable woman, and one of such status, surely there have been attempts on her life before.

“Ah, that you sure are right. As a woman of my stature, managing these things can be quite interesting. Especially three assassins to take out council members.” and her voice slowly sharpens as the sentence progresses. Slowly realization dawns on me, but before I can react...

Everything goes a little bit hazy, like being drunk. But it feels so nice, and Landrelia sounds so sweet. The words she’s saying are muffled, but I nod anyway. Leading me below deck, I smile as she opens a door and pulls me in.

She's saying something, it sounds nice.

“So you see, it really is quite interesting meeting two people who could somehow stop an entire plan for defeating this entire council. I could have taken them all out. You see, the council has been oh so against giving me and my delightful husband our land deals that we want. I’m afraid we can’t really have anyone going into it either.”

There’s a moment where everything becomes clear, and everything blacks out.

“Now then, sleep tight. It is really such a shame that you’re going to have to stay here on board this ship the whole time. I’m going to go take care of your friend now.”

I wake with a start. Quickly taking everything in, I snarl. She's the one behind this. And she put a damn charm on me.

Cass is holding something weird and smoking, and something just grazes Landrelia from it.

“Now, now, I don’t think you want to do that.”

Another shot fires, lodging something into her chest.

“I don’t know what the hell you have, but I’m certainly making it out of here alive,” she snarls before shooting a third bolt into Cass’s chest.

Getting up, I feel a now much more familiar every pulse through me, the swirling purple resting around my hands before shooting Landrelia.

“Now, now, didn’t we have such a nice time?” an almost regretful smile on her face causes my focus to drop for a second.

Frustrated, I try again. She just sidesteps the beam as if it were harmless. The audacity. She looks at me, some incantation spilling from her lips as everything tenses and almost freezes up. Shaking it off and baring my fangs I stare down at her.

“My, my, my, isn’t that appauling.”

“Catch me if you can,” the smirk on her face makes my blood boil.

With a wink, she leaves.

Dropping beside the body on the group, adrenaline makes my hands shaky, but I think she’ll be ok. That bitch.

Slamming open the door, dread fills me hearing the shouted, “Land ho! There it is!”

Murmurs of the passengers break out and I can see a few crew members running down the stairs.

“What was that-” confusion

“Get her!”

Collecting myself, “Help, her!” I shout before rushing up the stairs. Where is she. Scanning through the crowd, I almost miss her, but her hair catches my eye just as it had the first time I saw her.

Cleaned up and casually moving about the ship and other passengers, she looks towards me.

“Yes, Dez, come over here, won’t you?” and her voice almost soothing but I shake

“Oh how sad that is,” and she turns toward a man I’m not familiar with and pats him on the shoulder, telling him something.

“Landrelia!” my voice louder than it has ever been, “you fucking get your ass over here! You’re not getting away with this!” The crowd is taken aback, what a sight to see.

She feigns being offended at my words, “How could you?” How could I?

The man next to her pulls a crossbow, the bolt sinking into my side. And i just barely manage to shake off whatever poison they lathered it with. I feel more than see Cassandra run up, thank the gods she’s alright.

Next to her is the young cleric, and he, heals her?

The boat is slowing, and Landrelia takes it as her leave. Shrugging off part of her gown, she reveals a set of leather armor before jumping ship.

As the water breaks, I shout, “Captain! We have her, she’s jumped ship!”

Eyeing the man who shot me, I duck into the crowd, which is surprisingly still there. The bow once again pulled, a second bolt sinks in next to the first.

Whatever it is Cass is carrying, blasts the man before turning towards the cleric and shouting.

A blue door shape materializes on the edge of the ship, and out steps the captain, a red cape glittering and a long bow drawn. Hat discarded and hair flowing behind her, she is a fierce sight.

With speed I would never expect from any mortal creature, four arrows are fired,

“Now then, we can’t have passengers leaving the ship without captain’s orders, after all it would be-” one arrow flies,

“A pain,” two,

“In my ass,” three,

“To deal with the paperwork.” the fourth hits and a cry comes from the water. Running over to the edge, slowly blood dyes the water and the body with the arrows sinks out of view. Spinning around, I run up to that man who kept shooting me, rapier drawn and ready. One smooth slash has him stumble over the railing. The ship docks, and the council members are waiting to greet the passengers.

Just before departing, Lila pulls us aside.

I can’t tell what she spoke to Cassandra about, but I do see the kiss she gives her.

Nodding towards me, she makes her way over.

“Despite what you may think, you have a good heart, and your kindness speaks volumes. No matter who you try to fool.” It shocks me to hear that. From anyone.

We both watch as the ship departs, disappearing into the horizon.

The council members converse briefly, giving welcomes and so forth. But they congratulate the two of us. Hearing stories of what we did, when was there time for that?

“Is the name Landrelia familiar?” remembering her mentioning something about the council and them not cooperating with them.

The warlock smiles and explains how Ioun told him of an assassination attempt. Another member brings up some of the failed land deals with the woman. Bringing up her husband, they all look surprised.

“She never had a husband,” this information shocks me. Looking around, I spot the man in the crowd, and he looks at all of us before disappearing. Fuck.

[kitanoko]

So this is kind of a sad-turned-cute prompt but imagine Yaomomo getting stood up on a blind date and Todo to the rescue!

 Note: Thanks! Actually I had this in mind half a year ago but never wrote it. Happy reading! This one is longer than the others :p I also paid homage to the drama cd haha

In which Todoroki sees her again after a year

               Herfriends made this sound a lot easier than it really was.

               Justtwo hours ago, Yaoyorozu was in her room with Ashido, Hagakure, and Jirou asclothes were being stuffed back into her drawers, and then taken out again. Shestood like a mannequin for the three girls as bouts of laughter encompassedthem. With jewellery dangling on her like a Christmas tree, she took noticeof how much of a pig sty her room had become. Ashido, being the hopeless romantic,wanted to set her up with someone she met from middle school. Strong, tall,charming, responsible…was what Ashido described the mystery blind date as, andwith no doubt, he was someone who valued someone else’s time.

               Thenwhy is it that he still hasn’t shown up?

Yaoyorozu pondered quite considerably too,before agreeing to this, since she had someone whom she had high regards for but shewas certain destiny has it that they weren’t meant to be. So why not give this‘perfect’ guy a chance?

               “Areyou still waiting for your friend?” The server came again to ask, professionallybalancing 5 plates at once, and Yaoyorozu could count with her fingers the number oftimes she had checked up on her table for thus far. Exactly 4 times.

               “Yeah,he should be here soon,” Yaoyorozu gave a fake smile, so meek that even she couldn’tfool herself, “He is stuck in traffic, I think.” Her last words trailed offinto a discreet utterance.

               “Alrightthen, call me when you’re ready to order,” the server gave her a quizzicallook, suspicion written all over her expression, and walked away with a sway ofher hips. Yaoyorozu rested her head on her palm, playing with the littlepackets of raw sugar on the side of the table with her other hand and sighed.

~~

               “Okayso the newest superhero movie just came out, who’s down to go this weekend?!”Kirishima’s sharp, fang-like teeth glinted as he gave a large grin, “It’s gonnabe the best movie of 2017, I swear!”

               “I’llgo,” Tokoyami laid his arm around Midoriya as Kaminari nodded in agreement, “AndMidoriya, you better go too. Don’t tell me you’re hanging out with Urarakaagain.”

               Midoriyamouth formed a thin line, “With our schedule, I haven’t been able to see her for two weeksTokoyami-kun, so….”

               “No cando,” Tokoyami shook his head, his feathers ruffled as he did so, making themappear more dynamic than usual, “Todoroki, how about you?”

               Thethree guys turned to face Todoroki right when the gorgeous and curvy bartenderdelivered their beers. Kirishima cocked an eyebrow when something black caughthis eye underneath Todoroki’s glass and he sloped his body forward to take apeak, and sure enough, it was the bartender’s scribbly handwriting forming herphone number and flirty words of sorts. Kirishima knew beforehand that thebartender had zero chance.

Looking back at Todoroki, he seemed veryconcentrated on something on the other side of the room, neglecting the gazesthat he was receiving from his friends, and Kaminari smirked.

               “Todoroki,are you checking out some hot girl?” Kaminari stuck his head out and scannedthe area shamelessly, and his brows began to furrow, “Which girl are you evenlooking at?”

               Noresponse came and on the contrary, it seemed that Kaminari’s question cuedTodoroki’s aimless gaze to fix on his drink. The bartender watched himsolicitously as her number below his hand caught his attention, but heignored it just as fast. The boy gulped down most of the beer, wiped his mouthwith a quick motion and was prepared to leave his seat.

               “Ehh?Isn’t that Yaoyorozu?” Kirishima cried out in surprise, “Let’s go say hi! It’sbeen like a year since we saw her.”

               Kaminari’sface brightened up, “You were staring at Yaoyorozu? Man, Todoroki, you are so…”

               Hisstomach dropped when Todoroki’s death glare pierced him and he quickly shut hismouth.

              Thered-haired boy was bursting with energy though and his chair wobbled as hepushed off his bar stool. However, Kirishima wasn’t reading the mood properly,both Tokoyami and Midoriya recognized, and Tokoyami’s outstretched arm haltedhim midway.

               Midoriyaspoke without skipping a beat, “doesn’t it look like she’s waiting for someone?Impatiently too?”

               Tokoyamicrossed his arms and closed his eyes, looking thoughtful, “It’s the abyss oflove.”

               Theothers, with the exception of a nonchalant Todoroki, were taken aback by theirfriend’s unexpected, edgy comment. Good ol’ Tokoyami.

               “Lookslike she got stood up though,” Kaminari swallowed, “It’d be embarrassing forher if we go over there now.”

               It’sthe sophisticated yet mournful look on Yaoyorozu’s face that urged Todoroki toact. She’s mature enough to handle herself, he acknowledged that fact, but shedidn’t deserve to be treated like this. Putting his unfinished glass down witha thud, he maneuvered past the other patrons and headed over to her, paying noheed to his friend’s remarks.

~~

               The mixof footsteps was muffled to her by now and the music didn’t grow on her either.It won’t be long till her patience subsided completely. She was frustrated anddisappointed, but most of all, she felt shamed. ‘Too naïve’, was what shealways said to those around her, as if she had the right to criticize. But nowit pertained to her. Oh, the irony.

               “Yaoyorozu.”

               A whiffof spice overcame her senses and she poised, “You’re finally here!” Her voicebroke in a happy tune.

The girl looked up and froze,meeting icy orbs plus white and red hair. She was stupid for not recognizinghis familiar, bold voice.

Todoroki gestured in an attemptto ask if he was allowed to sit across from her and she nodded slightly. Heshould be glad for her to be meeting people, much less people of romanticinterest, but as if thorns jabbed his chest, he wanted so bad to kick whoever thisguy was all the way to Antarctica.

“Oh your friend is here!” Theserver couldn’t be more coincidental and eyed Todoroki up and down, a blushreaching her cheeks.  Yaoyorozu pressedher lips together.

“He’s actually not the…”

“Yeah, I’m late,” Todoroki cutin, flipping through the menu like a storm, “I’ll take the steak and she willhave the same.”

“Wha—“

“Oh and also two glasses of the1990 Chateau Margaux.”

At that, both the server andYaoyorozu’s eyes widened. The latter was sure the price for that particularwine was $450 per glass but was partly glad that he remembered her favourite choice of reds. After the server thanked them profusely and walkedaway, the two sat there in a silent discord. Both wanting to ask each otherabout their new lives, eyes meeting and fleeting away, yet hesitant to know ofone another’s change.

She kicked his leg accidentallyunder their wooden table.

“Uh sorry,” she spoke first,igniting the conversation, “Todoroki, I’m just wondering…why are you here?”

“Why, am I not allowed to behere?”

This prompted her thoughts of theEnnichi Festival where a similar question was raised by him years ago.

“No, of course you are,” shepeeked at him. Through candlelight, his jaw line appeared more defined and hishair was a little shorter than she recalled. Everything else about him wasthe same though; he was still making her heart race without even trying.

“So was someone supposed to behere?” he stared at her and her eyes darted away.

“Well,” she started to focus onthe buttons on his sleeves, “Ashido’s acquaintance was supposed to be here.”  

“Like a date?” he asked, notintending to make her restless but the shiver of her hand proved the contrary.

“Like a date.” She managed torepeat, and her shoulders relaxed, “but he never showed up.”

“Maybe he came and saw you andwalked away,” he added.

Todoroki’s desperate attempt at joking andmaking her laugh was abysmal. His statement was met with lamentable eyes and heknew that ruined the mood.

“I was kidding,” he quicklyexplained, scratching the back of his neck. Yaoyorozu looked hopeful for asecond and giggled. Noticing the upward motion of his lips as well, a nostalgicfeeling showered her. In the back of her mind, an unnerving question coercedher to speak and finally she gave in.

“Todoroki,” she spoke,anticipating, “so are you seeing anyone?”

“Yes,” he said and she felt apang in her chest, but recovered when he continued, “I see Midoriya quite often.”

“Oh,” she was relieved, “I meanare you dating anyone.”

Todoroki thought for a while, “No.I don’t know how to attract the person that I like.”

Yaoyorozu gulped inaudibly.Within the past year, things have changed too much. They had grown up.

 “Ithink …girls are simple though. They like food, and flowers,” she responded with a gleeful tone.

“Mmm,” his voice trailed off, heturned around, looking as though he was searching for something, “how aboutsteak and wine?”

“Yeah steak and wine works,” she bither lip, crestfallen, “Whomever you like must be lucky.”

“No I think I’m luckier.”

She considered his every moveafter his last word, while toying with the piece of hair that framed her face.As the server came to place their food on the table, Todoroki stood up from hisseat without warning. He didn’t stall to think about where to go and gaveYaoyorozu a quick glance.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, “Yougo ahead.” And she was left to wonder what he had in mind.

After a minute, Todoroki cameback panting and when Yaoyorozu casted her eyes over to him from a half eatenpiece of potato, she was ossified in her seat.

There he was, standing with onepink rose decorated with cellophane and chevron ribbons. He pushed it towardher, eyes commanding.

“Todoroki, what is—“

“Steak, wine and flowers,” hecorrected himself, “I mean a flower. The florist across the street was closingso this is what was left.”

He cleared his throat, sensinghis friends at the bar observing him, “I’ve wanted to do this since foreverago. But I was confused and I didn’t know what to do that was best and wouldimpress you.”

The girl opened her mouth tospeak, finally connecting the dots, but instead, she took a deep breath andaccepted his flowers.

“You could impress me with justyour presence, Todoroki.”

He was stunned by her answer andhis expression softened. Within the warm glow of the candles, she erased thedistracting silhouettes and sounds in her mind, tiptoed a bit, and kissed him.

[blue-ridge-mountians]

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[iamthestrangerinmoscow]

My assignment for @autisticfanworkexchange - a fanfic for  @kyrfiore

I’m sorry that I couldn’t write anything more specific, but we were matched by mods and I’m only familiar with Harry Potter. However I tried my best and I hope you will still appreciate it. Also sorry for my weird punctuation - twelve years of learning English, still can’t punctuate dialogues the English way.

“We’re Scully and Mulder”

fandom: Harry Potter 

rating: PG-13/T

AU (alternative to “Nighteen Years Later”), Luna/Hermione, detective, mystery, fluff, autistic!Luna, autistic!Hermione; ~5500 words long

content warnings for: death/murder (but there’s nothing too nasty or graphic)

“They got together; wave and stone,

Verse and prose, ice and flame…”

Alexander Pushkin, ‘Eugene Onegin’

 Today Hermione came back home even later than usual. Her fumbling with the door keys woke up the neighbors’ yappy dog, and she quietly cursed under her breath, as she continued to look for the keyhole in the darkness of the alleyway. The door seemed adamant about not wanting to be opened. Glancing over her shoulder to check for strangers, Hermione took out her wand and whispered ‘lumos’. A beam of white light shone from the wand, and finally she could locate the keyhole. She couldn’t just use ‘alahomora’ on this one – it was protected from unwanted entrance.

The door clicked, hissed and screeched – as if tiny gears were spinning and turning inside it. When, in the end, it opened, it revealed a small room lit by a soft, orange light. If someone was to enter it without a special key, all they would find in the house was dust and empty halls. But the muggles believed the house was abandoned years ago, so they rarely bothered to even pass by. Sometimes kids would come to explore the place, out of curiosity or for a dare, but they didn’t stay for long. For them, it wasn’t entertaining enough, simply because they never saw the truth.

Hermione closed the door behind her, and tiptoed her way into the living room. It was quiet and dark, so she assumed Luna was already asleep. She wasn’t surprised – it was already past midnight when she left the Ministry. It must have been very late now. Or very early, depending on your point of view. She dropped her heavy bag on the couch, took off her coat and boots, and headed for the kitchen. There a big plate covered by a metal lid was waiting for her on the table. Hermione smiled, took of the lid and breathed in the smell of food. One time she asked Luna what kind of magic she used for cooking. To that she replied with one word: ‘spices’.

She heated up the cold chicken curry with a silent movement of her wand and sat in the kitchen eating. All around her on the walls were paintings, paintings of rare (and sometimes imaginary) creatures, beautiful landscapes, and friendly faces. Luna’s life centered on her art, it was everywhere you looked. In the morning, right after sunrise, she was already in their garden, painting another masterpiece. Often she would draw the same picture over and over again, perfecting the technique, focusing on every tiny detail that seemed important to her. Hermione was pretty sure that, by now, their every friend had at least a few of Luna’s paintings in their house. And still, there was never a shortage. She didn’t seem to ever run out of inspiration.

After finishing her late night dinner, Hermione put the dish in the sink and tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom. As she has guessed, Luna was in the bed, wrapped in three heavy blankets and asleep. Not bothering to change into pajamas, Hermione took off everything apart from her underwear and quietly slipped under the blankets. Luna’s sleep remained undisturbed. With a sign of relief, Hermione turned on her side and pressed her face into the soft, cool pillow. She was so tired that sleep kidnapped her mind before her thoughts came back to today’s events, and luckily so. At least the disturbing images stayed out of her dreams.

***

She woke up because something heavy was sitting on her chest. Hermione rubbed her eyes and squinted. It was Vincent – their fluffy, slightly overfed cat. She stretched, making Vincent jump from her chest and walk away on his short legs, evidently not very pleased.

As she got up and started picking a new set of clothes, Luna entered the room.

-Good morning, buttercup. – She murmured, fiddling with a lock of her hair. – Breakfast is ready.

And immediately after she turned round to leave.

-You’re not gonna ask me about yesterday? – Hermione asked.

Luna shrugged. – I’m not gonna interrogate you before your first cup of coffee. Besides, I have flowers to water. – She pointed at the shirts that Hermione held in her hands. – That one. – She said. – It is softer, and looks much better on you. Now, gotta check on those tulips.

Hermione smiled. Luna and she couldn’t have been more different. Luna was quiet and gentle, moving like a flower petal on the wind, carefully avoiding every obstacle in her way. She spoke rarely, and even when she did, her words were sometimes puzzling, sometimes outright nonsensical, but Hermione could always understand her. And Hermione spoke a lot, maybe even too much – even when exhausted beyond the point of no return, she would still create long, sophisticated monologues filled with meaning. But she always envied Luna, her creative talents, the grace in her movements… Hermione couldn’t walk across her own house without bumping into something.

The differences didn’t stop there. Hermione was order, and Luna was chaos. Hermione took the same route on her way home, every day, for the last seven years. She read the same books she had as a child, and kept her interests and obsessions for decades. Luna collected obsessions like stamps – every few months, there was something new. She loved re-decorating the house, moving the furniture around in ever so subtle ways, which sometimes pissed Hermione off. Luna resided in randomness; it seemed her world was bigger than just the objects around her. There was a universe in her mind that she didn’t share with anyone.

 The golden rays of the sun were crawling slowly up the walls, highlighting every scratch and dusty surface. The air was thick and smelled of syrop and coffee beans. Hermione held her cup firmly in her hands, sipping the hot liquid. She loved her mornings: sitting near the window, eating breakfast and watching her beloved girlfriend take care of the flowers. Her house was a safe place. It was calm, quiet, and familiar – pleasantly devoid of surprises. Well, except for Luna’s eccentric decorating projects.

-Did you enjoy the waffles?

Hermione didn’t catch the moment Luna came back to the house. She was standing in front of the table, her blond hair messy and tangled, dirt under her fingernails.

-I did. – Hermione nodded, mixing her coffee absent-mindedly.

-What is bothering you? – Luna asked, and took a seat opposite her.

Once again, Hermione was surprised by Luna’s abilities to read her state of mind. Five years of living together, and she still relied on taking sneak-peaks at Luna’s mood stone. Despite sounding like a cheap fake, that trinket of her actually worked.

-The usual. – Hermione replied. – Rather nasty case in the ministry.

Hermione loved working in the Magical Law Enforcement, she truly did. But every time they sent her to be an expert on a ‘special case’, the memories would haunt her for weeks.

-Murder?

-Suspected. And nobody has any idea what might have killed him.

-Who was the victim?

-A man, Sebastian Abbey. He lived alone, no family, no friends, recently released from Azkaban after two years of service for various small crimes – not exactly a celebrated member of society. That’s probably why he was found a week after he died. No one checked on him. They aren’t sure if it has any connection with magic, they called us because he was a wizard.

-What do you think has happened? – Luna was twirling a ribbon in her hands, wrapping it around her index finger, then unwrapping, then doing it again.

-I have no idea. Couldn’t have been murder, or suicide, or natural cause. But it sure is creepy.

 They climbed down the wobbly staircase, and it felt like it could break under their feet at any minute. The cellar was dark, and the smell of rotting and decay was overwhelming. The wooden floor was covered by dirt, dry leafs and old, yellow scrolls. And there, in the middle of the room, was the reason they were here – a body of a young man.

Avior, Hermione’s trainee, stood in the corner, eyes fixated on one spot. He was easily frightened and didn’t deal very well with stress, but it didn’t stop him from choosing his current job. Hermione wanted to encourage him, but she didn’t feel well herself. She almost had to force her own hand to move and direct the source of light to the victim. The dead man laid on his back on the muddy floor, his eyes closed, his skin grey and slightly wrinkled. There were no signs of trauma or struggle. In fact, he looked as if he fell asleep and passed away for no reason at all. Hermione has seen things much worse, during the war and at her work. Nevertheless, the sight was bothering her immensely.

-This place looks deserted. Like no one has lived here for years. – Avior said, cautiously taking a step forward.

-He returned from prison a month ago. – Hermione explained. – His name is, was, Sebastian.

-Did the previous team come up with any explanations?

-They haven’t got a clue. – She was waving her wand over the body, checking for any used spell. – That’s why they called us.

-Doesn’t look like a human could have done it. Could it be an animal, or a magical creature? Like a dementor.

-Dementors don’t kill. – Hermione replied. – They are only interested in the soul.

-Maybe it was an accident. I saw a cauldron in the living room. Many potions prepared improperly can kill. – He forced an awkward smile. – I was good at potions at school.

-I’m very happy for you. – She told him, only then realizing how sarcastic her tone was. – I’m sorry, Ave. I like this no more than you do.

The other workers soon arrived to take the body to a facility. They had specialists who could identify tiny traces of any substance, or any spell. Yet they discovered nothing. When they came back to the ministry, Hermione turned to the best source of comfort and knowledge she knew – a library. Her own collection was so extensive, finding the right volume was already a challenge. She spent the rest of her day with her books. She was so absorbed by the confusing, contradicting statements that her perception of time just turned off. By the time she got up from her chair, it was already late evening.

What was the mysterious force that killed a man right there, in his house, leaving no traces and no clues? She didn’t know, and it was making her feel uneasy and rather anxious.

 -When lost, look for someone who is lost too. – Luna said, then got up and started picking up the dirty dishes. She hummed a tune under her breath as she guided the plates into the sink with an upward motion of her wand. – Nevil will love the asters. They are about to bloom.

Immediately, Hermione understood what Luna meant.

-You’re right. – She said. – I’ll ask Harry about it.

-Say hi to thestrals from me. – Luna added, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

And a minute later she was gone from the room.

***

The Floo network between the ministry and Hogwarts was due for a renewal decades ago, but the wizards and witches in charge of budget kept postponing it. ‘We already have the Hogwarts Express to pay for!’ they said. Hermione wondered what they would say if they had to use the system, at least once in a while. She cursed under her breath, then sneezed, and a small puff of Floo powder erupted from her nose. Trying desperately to brush it off her robe, she climbed out of the fireplace and stretched.

The Defense against the dark arts professor’s office was empty and looked rather lonely. Hermione has heard that Harry didn’t use it very often, and preferred to spend his free time in the Gryffindor common room. It made the students increasingly uncomfortable, but no one wanted to talk to him about it. Twenty years later, Harry still couldn’t take a hint.

She found him in one of the classrooms, cleaning up after some sort of magical accident. There were tiny pieces of shredded paper everywhere: some of them smoking, some already burning. Harry was leaping from one pile of paper shreds to another, distinguishing the fire with swift motions of his wand, completely absorbed by the task. Hermione giggled, but he didn’t notice. She took her own want out of her pocket, raised her arm in the air and said:

-Scourgify.

And the mess disappeared. Harry turned on the spot and looked at Hermione as if she just did something absolutely inexcusable.

-Thanks a lot. – He said, and sighed. – Now I’ll have to set it up again for the next class.

-You mean this was done on purpose?

-Of course! I am simulating a snow storm.

-You do know there is a spell that creates snow, right? – She pointed her wand upwards, and snowflakes started falling from the ceiling.

-Oh. – Harry scratched his head, rather embarrassed. – Well, paper still looks nicer.

 They sat near a window and drank tea while a bunch of first year students had their broomstick flying class outside. Hermione smiled as she remembered her first try, and Harry’s ultimate triumph on that day.

-Oliver Wood comes to give a masterclass or two every year. – Harry informed her. – I go to Hogsmeade when it happens. He always makes me do a demonstration, and I hate that.

-Sure, because you can’t stand being in the center of attention, the chosen one.

-I’d love it, if I could fly as well as I used to. – He replied. – No, I’d rather stick to my own subject.

Once they have discussed all the recent news and rumors, Hermione was going to get to the purpose of her visit, but was interrupted by a girl in Ravenclaw robes sneaking into the classroom without knocking.

-Professor Potter? – She called, her hands clasped awkwardly behind her back.

-What is it, Jamie? – Harry asked.

-There are pixies in the corridor near the Clock Tower.

-No there aren’t. I checked. Twice.

-But sir, Lin and I, we saw them!

-If there were any pixies there, I would have found them. – Harry insisted. – I have been an auror, you know.

The girl giggled. – For six months.

-Have you been an auror for six months, Jamie? – He asked, a kind expression on his face.

-No. – The girl replied. – But I might be, when I grow up.

-You shouldn’t miss your classes then. Don’t you have Herbology right now?

She nodded, and turned to leave.

-Kind of tired of those pixie rumors. – Harry told Hermione when the girl closed the door behind her. – To be honest, I did hear some noise in that corridor. Hope they won’t actually find any. That would be embarrassing.

Hermione laughed. – You know, I am still a little bit shocked by the fact McGonnagal even allowed you to teach, with no experience and no recommendation letter.

-They don’t exactly have people lining up for this position. – He shrugged. – Besides, at least I do my job better than, say, a man with Voldemort on his head, or worse – Umbridge.

-Can’t argue with that. – Hermione smiled.

-So, might I ask you why you are here? – He asked. – Apart from insulting my teaching abilities.

-Oh, you should be pleased.  –She replied. – I am here for your wisdom and expertise.

He listened to her speak, and not a muscle moved on his face. Harry wasn’t easily disturbed. Maybe he developed an immunity, or maybe he just learned not to show it. Once she had nothing more to say, he shook his head.

-I’m sorry, but I have no idea. My only original guess was Basilisk, or something of the kind. There is magic that leaves no trace, but I am not familiar enough with that. I can list a dozen or so of potential spells, but I don’t think it will help you.

-Right. – Hermione frowned. – I guess we’ll have to postpone the case, until more evidence resurfaces. It’s a shame though. Maybe he wasn’t a very nice guy, but he deserves justice too.

Suddenly someone burst through the door.

-Professor Potter! – It was a tall, skinny boy with a Slytherin scarf around his neck. – Pixies! Near the Clock Tower!

-How many times…

-No, they caught them now. They really did!

Harry rubbed his eyes, thinking.

-Do I have to deal with it?

-It was your son who set them free though, sir. Headmistress wants to see you.

-I’ll be there in a minute. Now go, Augustus, go.

The boy nodded and left the room.

Hermione got up. – I guess I’ll be going. James is in trouble, probably.

-Three weeks at Hogwarts, already two detentions.

-You aren’t proud?

-He caused them all by accident.

Hermione smiled, but covered her mouth. – Like father, like son.

Harry didn’t react.

-Okay then, I’m gonna go see Neville. Luna gave me some aster seeds for him.

***

There were many things Hermione disliked: cruelty, hypocrisy, itchy sweaters, lukewarm tea… the list went on. However one thing never failed to ruin her emotional stability – uncertainty. Ambiguity. Mystery. When asked a question, she would spend her every waking moment thinking about it, until the answer was clear to her. People thought of her as an obnoxious know-it-all, but the truth was, absence of knowledge simply made her incredibly uncomfortable, so she strived to fill that vacuum. The problem began when a question existed, but nobody knew the answer. That’s when her need for certainty would get on her nerves.

She was biting her nails again, curled up in an armchair, and Luna noticed how tense and uncomfortable she looked. A minute later she was there with a warm blanket and a tin of sweets.

-Take one. – She said, opening the tin.

-My parents would be furious if they knew you are feeding their beloved daughter pure sugar.

-But they aren’t here. – Luna replied, and took one to demonstrate. – They taste like mint and lemon.

Hesitating for a second, Hermione took a sweet as well. Maybe it’s not very good for her teeth, but at least she isn’t biting her nails anymore. She wrapped herself in the blanket that Luna brought and made room for her in the big armchair.

-You look stormy. – Luna said. – Like a cloud when it’s about to rain. What’s on your mind?

-Oh, you know. The case. It’s bothering me so much! I just need to know what it was.

-Maybe it was tacita interfectorem. – She suggested. – It’s a wild spirit, lives under the ground, hides in there at night: in mole tunnels and in between the roots of trees. It doesn’t usually attack people, but when it does, they die instantly, and there is no trace. Blink of an eye, and that’s it.

-I appreciate your effort, but I doubt it was an imaginary creature.

-They are as imaginary as nargles. – Luna told her, slightly offended.

-Exactly my point. – Hermione nodded.

For a moment, they were silent.

-I wonder if the flavor of the quarks is a nice flavor or not. – Luna said, suddenly changing the subject. – I think their colors are pretty.

-What are you talking about? – Hermione asked.

-The quarks. The tiny things that electrons and protons and photons are made of.

One of the muggle sciences, quantum physics, was Luna’s latest obsession. She would go on for hours about the properties of Higg’s bosons and particle-wave duality of light, and to Hermione it sounded indistinguishable from her usual tales and fantasies. She found it hard to believe that those unfamiliar with magic could take these peculiar ideas and call them science, but then she saw Luna write a rather complex equation right on the living room table, and it changed her mind. She wasn’t surprised that out of all people Luna took interest in the area, and managed to make sense of it. She was a true Ravenclaw after all.

-Quarks have a spin, a color, a flavor and strangeness. And some other properties, too. I’ve told you about it a week ago, when we were outside in the garden.

-Yes, I remember. – Hermione told her. – And I still don’t understand it.

-Want to know a secret? – She asked, then leaned closer and whispered in her ear: - Nobody does. And if they say they do, they are lying.

Then Luna laughed, and her laughter was clear and melodic, like tiny bells ringing. It made Hermione feel warm and fuzzy.

-What did Harry say? Did he help you? – Luna asked, returning back to point.

-Not really. But I’m glad I talked to him. And being at Hogwarts was nice. Things are really changing there, in terms of equality. He said that back in April Slytherin students had to stay in other dorms because there was a stink problem at the dungeons again, and barely anyone protested.

-Was it Peeves that ruined their dorms?

-I think it’s just a natural thing. Maybe one day they will have to rebuild the whole building. Wouldn’t be a bad idea. The sewers definitely need a renewal – there’s a skeleton of a huge deadly snake somewhere in there.

-Are you gonna keep investigating?

Hermione sighed. – I don’t know. I think we will have to leave it unsolved.

-Okay. – Luna said. – Do you want to listen to the radio?

-With pleasure.

 They sat in the armchair together, wrapped in one blanket, with Vincent on Luna’s lap, and listened to Lee Jordan go on about the crisis in the broomstick industry – and in that moment, no evil existed in the world, or at least not in their home.

***

Sometimes Luna’s mind would play tricks on her. Sometimes her wild imagination kept her awake at night. She had a tendency to be haunted by the ghosts of the pasts. She found it hard to let go of old fears and heartbreaks. To this day every time she saw someone laughing, her first thought would be ‘they are laughing at me’. Hermione couldn’t relate. For her anxieties of the future were more common, and much more bothersome. But she always tried to support her the best way she could.

Luna woke up mere minutes before the first rays of sunrise touched the windows. She tossed and turned trying to fall asleep again, but it only made her feel worse. With a sigh she gently poked Hermione’s arm, and she immediately woke up, and looked at her, her eyebrows frowned.

-What is it? – Hermione asked.

Luna made a high-pitched, distressed noise. Words were difficult for her to process when she was worried.

-Dreams. Bad dreams. – Luna said, finally.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clocks. Six fifty three in the morning. There was no point in going back to sleep now.

-Dreams about what?

-Things that never was, never have been. – Luna told her, squeezing Hermione’s hand. – Parallel universes.

-Parallel universes?

-Yes. Other worlds, worlds that don’t look like ours. Foreign, and cursed. Not all of them, just the ones I saw.

-How can parallel worlds exist?

Luna blinked, gathering her thoughts. – They keep separating, with every decision that we make. Sometimes they are kind, and beautiful. Sometimes they are wrong. I saw a world where we never met, where you, and Ron, and Harry, and Neville haven’t been my friends. It was lonely. I don’t like lonely.

-Well, you aren’t alone now. – Hermione assured her, and they embraced.

-We’re Scully and Mulder, and we need each other. – Luna said.

Hermione smiled. – Sure, if you want to believe.

And together they watched the world drown in pallid pink shades of the young dawn.

***

Hermione looked to her right, then to her left, then to her right again. On one side of the table laid an enormous stack of parchment, her neat handwriting all over it. On the other was a second, even bigger stack, of blank parchment. It didn’t seem to diminish no matter how much time she spent working on it. And it was nearly lunch break.

Suddenly her decision to help everyone in the department seemed not very wise. She was trying to be nice, get people to like her, but now she just had a headache from all the paperwork. Perhaps she should turn people down, tell them to do their part themselves, but then they would dislike her even more. She stretched, and got up from the table. She will feel better after a break.

Before she had time to return to her self-appointed duties, there was a knock on the door. ‘Weird’, Hermione thought. Usually she didn’t have any visitors in the middle of the day, unless something bad has happened. And she definitely didn’t need any more bad in her life right now. Cautiously, she opened the door leading to her office.

Behind it was a short woman, casually dressed, with very long hair and dark circles under her eyes. She hid her hands in her pockets and coughed.

-Excuse me? – Hermione wasn’t sure about what to say. – Are you looking for something, or someone?

-Mmmm, yes. – The woman replied. – Can I come in?

Hermione shrugged. – I guess.

-Thank you. – She stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her. – I’m Ruby, Ruby Whittaker. I’m here to collect the personal possessions of Sebastian Abbey.

-Oh. – Suddenly Hermione felt weak and pale, as if she alone was responsible for the man’s murder. – Are you his family member?

-Friend, or at least we used to be friends. We weren’t that close. – She quickly added.

-I’m sorry for your loss. – Hermione told her, as the only socially acceptable thing she knew for this situation. – Want a cup of tea?

-Sure. – Ruby said, taking a free seat near Hermione’s table.

 ‘Drinking tea is such a British thing’, Hermione thought to herself, mixing the brown liquid in her cup. ‘In case of emergency, put the kettle on’. She liked it though. There was something calming about the whole ritual, from boiling the water to adding milk and sugar. It brought confidence.

-I do not have the possessions here. – Hermione said. – We’ll have to descend two levels down for that. But I can talk to you about… it, answer any questions you might have.

Ruby was rather occupied by the photos on Hermione’s table: one with Ron and Parvati, one with Neville and Hannah, and the one where Harry and Ginny stood with all three of their kids, waving at the camera together.

-Are you Hermione Granger? – She asked, scratching her nose.

-Yes, yes I am. – She nodded.

-I have read that book about you all. I didn’t believe most of it, but I must say – your contribution to winning the war will never be forgotten.

Hermione felt awkward. It has been a lot of time since it happened, and less and less people would bring it up. This has been the first time in months.

-I was a second year student when it happened. I wanted to stay and fight but we were all evacuated. Sat it out safely while so many people died. It is sad. I just want you to know that people remember and people are grateful.

-Thank you. – Hermione finally made herself say something. She sipped her tea, hoping that part of the conversation was now over. – So, do you have any questions about the investigation?

-Not really. – Ruby replied. – I don’t have illusions about Seb. He was never a lawful citizen. It’s a shame though. He was a great student, brilliant at transfiguration. But he used his talents in the wrong way. He would sell transfigured stuff at the Diagon Alley for a lot of money, and as soon as the “happy customer” would come back home, the trinkets would turn back into a piece of rusty metal or something like that. He made a fortune on that. Too bad they took it all away when he went to Azkaban.

-Not all people have enough good in them. – Hermione said. – Doesn’t mean they deserve to die.

-Oh no, I’m not saying he deserved death. But I am not surprised he ended up like that. I really tried to help him, but he didn’t want my help. He just wanted more gold. – Ruby sighed. – I missed being his friend. I remember our time in the Hufflepuff dorm rooms, sharing secrets, exchanging chocolate frog cards. Good times.

Ruby looked up and saw a big Hogwarts banned hanging on the wall.

-I see you are nostalgic too. – She smiled.

-A little bit. – Hermione agreed.

-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandes. – Ruby read. – Funny thing, I still don’t know what that means.

-It means ‘don’t tickle a sleeping dragon’. – Hermione explained. – It’s Latin.

-Latin?

-Yes, like ‘veni vidi vici’, or ‘homo homini lupus est’, or… - Suddenly she felt as though a light bulb lit up in her mind. – Or ‘tacita interfectorem’. – She murmured.

-What does that mean?

-Silent killer. It means silent killer. – Hermione got up. – Sorry, I need to go now. Knock on someone else’s door, they can lead you to the right place.

And without a reply, she stormed off. As she ran across the corridors, thoughts swarmed once again in her head, pieces of a puzzle assembling into one picture. Everything made sense now: the pale grey skin, the horrible smell, even Luna’s comment. She practically forced her way into Avior’s office, and he nearly chocked on a slice of pie.

-Lunch is over. – She told him. – We’re going to the crime scene.

 Apparition didn’t go that well for Avior – a patch of his hair was removed in the process. Now, while Hermione examined every corner of the building, he stood in front of a dirty mirror and scratched the back of his head.

-You’re okay? – Hermione asked, passing by with a wand in her hand.

-Sure. – He didn’t sound very convincing. – I wanted to get a haircut anyway.

-I think we need to go down there again.

He nodded, wrapping himself in his coat for comfort. ‘Should have taken that job in an ice cream shop’ he said to himself as they climbed down the same wobbly staircase.

-It should be here somewhere. – Hermione seemed to be sniffing the air in the room, very focused on her task.

-What?

-Silent killer! Ugh, I should have known from the beginning. It’s obvious!

-Not to me.

She turned around and looked him in the eyes. – H2S, hydrogen sulfide. It’s a colorless, poisonous gas. It can kill in a minute, and it leaves no trace. Except for the smell.

-The smell?

-The smell of rotting eggs. It must be somewhere in here, that’s where we found him. – One more minute of searching, and finaly success. – Aha! – She exclaimed. – Here. – And she beckoned Avior with her finger.

He came closer and cautiously sniffed the air, then immediately made a step back.

-It’s disgusting.

-We better move away. – Hermione added, stepping back as well.

-How can you breathe that in for a whole minute?!

-Your nervous cell start to die – after ten seconds, you don’t even smell it anymore.

-Huh. – He scratched his head, which reminded him of the bold patch. – So he must ‘ave been trying to fix something in there, breathed in too much, and died.

-This thing leads straight to a container filled to the brim with garbage. Perfect conditions for the gas to be produced.

-So there is no murdered then?

-No. It was an accident.

They paused. The whole event still seemed rather tragic.

 -It’s not pointless. – Avior said, when they were back upstairs. – This house was already bought. If you didn’t solve this mystery, the next owners could have died as well, or people who came to clean that thing. You saved their lives.

-Thanks. – Hermione replied. – But it wasn’t me who solved it.

-No?

-It was my girlfriend.

***

The evening was pitch black and unusually warm. Outside dozens of moths flew in circles around a lamp, pushing and fighting for a better spot, looking for god knows what. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and ginger – Luna was making an apple pie. She hummed a tune under her nose, hoping from one spot to another. Hermione sat opposite her, knitting a hat, or maybe a sock. She wasn’t sure yet. It didn’t really matter anyway, she just liked the sensation of having the soft material in her hands, and the motion of the fingers.

-I wanna go feed squirrels tomorrow. – Luna said, adding some last pinches of spices into the dough.

-No problem. – Hermione told her.

-If we feed them tomorrow, October will be sunny and not too dull.

-What about the birds?

-The birds can feed themselves. They are wizards and witches too.

-Really? – Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

-Not all of them. Robins are, and so are magpies and crows. But not sparrows. No, that’s silly.

The pie was in the oven, and Luna joined Hermione in her seat. Every now and then they would share a kiss, or laugh at a silly joke, or simply look at each other, and see sparks in each other’s eyes. Hermione was never good at feelings, but she knew one thing – this is where she belonged. With another person, in her own house, where it was safe to be who she is.

-What kind of baby names do you like? – Luna asked, completely out of the blue.

-You want kids?

-One day. I like flowery names, like Lilly. Could we name our kid Lilly?

-That’s what Harry’s daughter is called.

-Right. – Luna frowned. – Okay then, what about Poppy?

-That’s our old school nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

-Hmmm. – Luna paused, then smiled. – I know! Rose.

-Rose?

-Yeah, Rose. It’s a lovely name, isn’t it?

-Sure it is. – Hermione agreed. – We will call our daughter Rose then.

-Uh-hu. – Luna confirmed. – We can come up with more names later.

Hermione nodded, and continued to knit.

The world could be a nasty place sometimes, but it had nice things too, and it was hers – or, rather, theirs. And their world was bright, complicated, exciting and absolutely, mind-blowingly beautiful.

[chiseler]

Angels Afflicted with the American Dream

Somewhere in the middle of David Lynch's Twin Peaks: The Return there is a moment that, on its incandescent surface, could have been lifted from the great post-war dream of materialist deliverance: The top on the convertible is down, the radio on; The Paris Sisters are singing I Love How You Love Me as a reincarnated Laura Palmer lifts her face to a cloudless sky. Within the tapestry of this early Phil Spector production — his trademark reverb associated eternally with Romance and Death (two conditions that Spector knows all too well) — the voice of Priscilla Paris is a voice from the American Beyond. We could be hearing a dream goddess lullaby from the whispering gallery, or sweet nothings from the crypt. We don't know. We'll never know. Just as Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood keeps us guessing with the elusive murmur that “Sharon Tate will never die,” which grants her a gaudy, if still wondrous L.A. to cavort in— 1969 forever — Tarantino’s version of paradise (complete with occasional flame throwers to the face). In this oneiric echo chamber, momentarily shared by Lynch and Tarantino, Surrealism smiles down upon a vision of American blondness; muscle cars soaked in sunlight; the terrible ecstasy of unending motion; a confection of both eye and ear candy.

To this day, David Lynch’s favorite film remains Otto e Mezzo, directed by Western Europe's sorcerer of confectionary delights, Federico Fellini; the man who put the “dolce” in La Dolce Vita. And here, we get a fleeting taste of ideologies swirled together and spun like ribbon candy — four-wheeled luxury from the New World in a blur, zooming past regional splendor into that fraternity of man: the socio-economic nirvana imagined by Karl Marx. Careening from one via to another at harrowing, white-knuckle speeds, Fellini lamented: “Some of the neo-realists seem to think that they cannot make a film unless they have a man in old clothes in front of the camera.” George Bluestone, recording these words in 1957 for the pages of Film Culture, sat in the literal passenger seat of the ideal metaphor; a vision of post-war ebullience in action: that famous Black Chevy skirting the Italian Scylla (the Vatican) and its equally dogmatic Charybdis (the Party); expert, 20th century precision guiding them through Roman streets with graffiti-scrawled churches proudly bearing the hammer and sickle. At those velocities, anything could make sense. “What for you is the greatest human quality?” Fellini responds, “Love of one’s fellows,” a period-appropriate oath that rings true to his brand of ecumenical solidarity.

“The greatest fault?”

“Egoism.”

Try to imagine our locally sourced egoists nodding along with Fellini in soulful agreement. No. David Lynch and Quentin Tarantino both spawn from a mutual compatriot, Edgar Allan Poe, or rather his abiding pronunciamento that: “The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetic topic in the world.” Twin Peaks: The Return modifies Poe's axiomatic truth with some help from Amanda Seyfried and a pair of visionary eyes melting Phil Spector's sugar edifice AKA "wall of sound" in deathless close-up — iridescent search lights, ever more urgently scanning the sky above for a sun to swallow Seyfried’s “Becky” whole. We internalize this shimmering ingenue trading places with Old Sol, as if the drugs she's gobbling enter our system, not hers.

Once Upon a Time's Margot Robbie is Sharon Tate when she watches herself on the movie screen, enjoying the thrill so guilelessly that a narcissism charge shrinks to nullity before it can escape our collective throat. And, reflexive handwringing from the progressive peanut gallery notwithstanding, Mr. Tarantino has achieved something (oh, yes) transcendental. Even his grotesqueries — scraggly, slack-jawed, gap-toothed Manson Family members conflated with contemporary Social Justice Warriors fighting “Lookism” — are mythic.

Filmmakers like Fellini, Lynch and to some extent Jodorowsky have a way of celebrating bodily extremes that should be beyond the pale but somehow winds up being quasi-acceptable. There's an innocent glee or wonderment in the wide variety of shapes the human body can take — and this innocence also seemingly cancels out any awareness about how representation in the age of political correctness is supposed to function. Thus Lynch can show the disabled as childlike, mysterious or magical beings, without worrying about giving them agency (the elephant man is a passive whipping boy for the whole of Victorian London) or adult sophistication (the latest Twin Peaks includes a pint-sized hitman who whines like a puppy when his icepick is broken). Fellini's dwarfs and grotesques emerge from the mind of a cartoonist, embodiments of an image formed in his head.

Fellini's big women, of course, are fetish figures — he seems to have formed his idea of a sexual ideal in infancy, and that ideal was a big Italian mama, seen from below. As Fellini turned into a large adult, his ideal needed to be scaled up accordingly, so his films abound with gargantuan beauties. Anita Ekberg is an icy mountain.

In David Lynch’s hands, American television has become a brightly lit seance for Poe’s ethereal dead. Immortal creatures afflicted with the dream of physical existence. While Quentin  Tarantino presents Margo Robbie: a visage both generically perfect and possessed by angels, every one of them a blond California resident, sincere and unknowable as desert light.

by The Lumière Sisters

[adambstingus]

What A Guy’s Beer Choice Says About His Personality

No two beers are created equal.

Whether its a crisp Belgian wheat or the hoppy power of an IPA, theres something unique that each of these beer brands bottles upthat allows theirnameto stand out among millions of others.

And while it may seem farfetched,a guys beer of choicecan also speak volumes about his attitude, mannerisms and where he stands in life.

Each and every sip can say wonders about a man and establish his personality without the need to even have aconversation.

And what might those personalities be, you ask?

Below, in honor of National Beer Day, youll find a few garden variety beers and what they mean about the man whos drinkin em.

Budweiser

Youre the manliest a man can be.

Budweiser drinkers are true all-Americans, ones who represent their country with pride and release a healthy belch after consuming thelagers final sips.

King of Beers Budweiser may not go down super easy, but neither do theguys who drink them. Theyre fully capable of handling whatever is presented in front of em and make most difficult tasks seem easy.

Giphy

Theres also a high probability that they own a pickup truck decked out in red, white and blue glory.

A man who consumes Budweiser is a man you can count on (and one with a slight beer belly).

Heineken

Consumption of this Dutch beer usually happens inspite of its low-quality taste.

Men who drink Heineken regularly do it in hopes of coming off more upscale and classy (maybe because ofalluring green tint of its bottle), but in reality, they would do just as well chugging the equally shitty and much cheaper Keystones in their basement.

You put on this facade of someone youre not and find a serious need to pine for attention even in thesmallest crowds.

Instagram

Maybe youre trying to overcompensate for something, but these male beer consumers tend to need their egos deflated a lot.

Either that, or theyve peaked in life and are trying to rebound with a classy glass of Heineken.

Corona

Corona drinkers are an undeniably fun time.

While they would probably prefer some place warm and sandy, a man who drinks a Corona can turn any mundane celebratory event into a full-blown party with the drop of a dime.

Theyre eccentric, wild and dont like to play by the rules. I mean, who else willingly inserts sliced limes into their beer before shaking it like an expensive cocktail?

Thats right: No one.

Giphy

Drinking a Corona doesnt makeyou the lazy type, but instead, more of the go-with-the-flow vibing kindof man.

Oh, and hold onto your headboards. He probably fucks like an animal.

Shock Top

Shock Tops are a sensible choice for anyguy who enjoys his nights out but also would be easily satisfied under the covers with a good book.

Theyre like those coy, glasses-wearing office employees who unknot their ties after an arduous day in the office, only to reveal their undeniably outgoing and sexy side.

Instagram

This isnt your run-of-the-mill beer choice, but it also doesnt qualify you as an ale savant, either. These guys arent the most adventurous of types, but enjoy spicing things up on occasion.

For example, dont expect them to jump out of a moving vehicle anytime soon, but they do still crave that taste of danger.

Their balance in life is on point.

Guinness

A guy who consumes Guinness is either Irish or really, wants to emulate the drinking prowess of the Irish.

A man who regularly consumes dark stouts exhumes confidence and is in the know. He is levelheaded and makes reasonable, informed choices in his life.

Giphy

Either that, or he just likes to blackout a lot.

Saint Patricks Day may come once a year, but Guinesses are forever.

Stella Artois

I mean, thisBelgian delight is traditionally served in a bougie chalice so that should speak volumes of the person consuming it.

Men who drink Stella Artois can display a classier side to them without coming off aspompous or arrogant. Consuming this lager will move you out of that basic beer-drinking sphere and have you seen as approachable, but with a more sophisticated feel.

Instagram

The beer shouldnt fool people though; you still dont mind getting turnt on a sun-bathed Wednesday afternoon.

You just know how to do it in style.

Pabst Blue Ribbon

Someone who is an avid PBR drinker outside of a frat house basement needs to reevaluate his life choices.

Hes unable to move past that super chill, laid back lifestyle and still thinks 12 watery beers for eight dollars is the best thing to ever grace this Earth.

Theres nothing wrong with being a cool hipster and all, but PBR drinkers may not be ready to make big decisions.

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Theyre settled on where they are, and that comfortability may come off as a turn-off, if youd like them to, you know, be an adult every once in a while.

But hey, Im not one to judge.

If you need me, Ill be in the corner drinking a tall glass of Bud Light Lime.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-a-guys-beer-choice-says-about-his-personality/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/170674181072

[samanthasroberts]

What A Guy’s Beer Choice Says About His Personality

No two beers are created equal.

Whether its a crisp Belgian wheat or the hoppy power of an IPA, theres something unique that each of these beer brands bottles upthat allows theirnameto stand out among millions of others.

And while it may seem farfetched,a guys beer of choicecan also speak volumes about his attitude, mannerisms and where he stands in life.

Each and every sip can say wonders about a man and establish his personality without the need to even have aconversation.

And what might those personalities be, you ask?

Below, in honor of National Beer Day, youll find a few garden variety beers and what they mean about the man whos drinkin em.

Budweiser

Youre the manliest a man can be.

Budweiser drinkers are true all-Americans, ones who represent their country with pride and release a healthy belch after consuming thelagers final sips.

King of Beers Budweiser may not go down super easy, but neither do theguys who drink them. Theyre fully capable of handling whatever is presented in front of em and make most difficult tasks seem easy.

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Theres also a high probability that they own a pickup truck decked out in red, white and blue glory.

A man who consumes Budweiser is a man you can count on (and one with a slight beer belly).

Heineken

Consumption of this Dutch beer usually happens inspite of its low-quality taste.

Men who drink Heineken regularly do it in hopes of coming off more upscale and classy (maybe because ofalluring green tint of its bottle), but in reality, they would do just as well chugging the equally shitty and much cheaper Keystones in their basement.

You put on this facade of someone youre not and find a serious need to pine for attention even in thesmallest crowds.

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Maybe youre trying to overcompensate for something, but these male beer consumers tend to need their egos deflated a lot.

Either that, or theyve peaked in life and are trying to rebound with a classy glass of Heineken.

Corona

Corona drinkers are an undeniably fun time.

While they would probably prefer some place warm and sandy, a man who drinks a Corona can turn any mundane celebratory event into a full-blown party with the drop of a dime.

Theyre eccentric, wild and dont like to play by the rules. I mean, who else willingly inserts sliced limes into their beer before shaking it like an expensive cocktail?

Thats right: No one.

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Drinking a Corona doesnt makeyou the lazy type, but instead, more of the go-with-the-flow vibing kindof man.

Oh, and hold onto your headboards. He probably fucks like an animal.

Shock Top

Shock Tops are a sensible choice for anyguy who enjoys his nights out but also would be easily satisfied under the covers with a good book.

Theyre like those coy, glasses-wearing office employees who unknot their ties after an arduous day in the office, only to reveal their undeniably outgoing and sexy side.

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This isnt your run-of-the-mill beer choice, but it also doesnt qualify you as an ale savant, either. These guys arent the most adventurous of types, but enjoy spicing things up on occasion.

For example, dont expect them to jump out of a moving vehicle anytime soon, but they do still crave that taste of danger.

Their balance in life is on point.

Guinness

A guy who consumes Guinness is either Irish or really, wants to emulate the drinking prowess of the Irish.

A man who regularly consumes dark stouts exhumes confidence and is in the know. He is levelheaded and makes reasonable, informed choices in his life.

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Either that, or he just likes to blackout a lot.

Saint Patricks Day may come once a year, but Guinesses are forever.

Stella Artois

I mean, thisBelgian delight is traditionally served in a bougie chalice so that should speak volumes of the person consuming it.

Men who drink Stella Artois can display a classier side to them without coming off aspompous or arrogant. Consuming this lager will move you out of that basic beer-drinking sphere and have you seen as approachable, but with a more sophisticated feel.

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The beer shouldnt fool people though; you still dont mind getting turnt on a sun-bathed Wednesday afternoon.

You just know how to do it in style.

Pabst Blue Ribbon

Someone who is an avid PBR drinker outside of a frat house basement needs to reevaluate his life choices.

Hes unable to move past that super chill, laid back lifestyle and still thinks 12 watery beers for eight dollars is the best thing to ever grace this Earth.

Theres nothing wrong with being a cool hipster and all, but PBR drinkers may not be ready to make big decisions.

Giphy

Theyre settled on where they are, and that comfortability may come off as a turn-off, if youd like them to, you know, be an adult every once in a while.

But hey, Im not one to judge.

If you need me, Ill be in the corner drinking a tall glass of Bud Light Lime.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/what-a-guys-beer-choice-says-about-his-personality/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/02/09/what-a-guys-beer-choice-says-about-his-personality/