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alottanothing · 4 years

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Left to Ruin: Chapter Thirteen

Summary: Ahkmenrah asks Nouke to be his queen. Kahmunrah’s suspicion stirs more trouble, and the pharaoh holds a meeting with his advisors that does not go as well as he hoped.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7327

Warnings: none

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This chapter marks the halfway point in this story! So there is still lots to come. 😁 Shout out too all of you who left me such kind comments about last weeks chapter! I was so nervous to post that and you all filled my heart with so much love. Thank you. This chapter might be a tad less exciting then last week, but there are some great scenes in it nonetheless. At least I think so. Enjoy!Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible.

It was by neither the rigorous duties of being king nor the golden light of day that woke Ahkmenrah the next morning. The blame, instead, fell upon the lazy kisses placed along his jaw that gradually withdrew him from his restful slumber. Gentle and airy, they were like the brush of warm desert wind over his skin, and Ahk hummed his delight—keeping his eyes closed to savor every press of her lips. The sound of his pleasure grew into a purr when Nouke shifted to straddle his waist, tucking her legs at either side of his body.

She bent to meet his lips with a tender kiss, her calloused fingertips coming to cradle his chin as she controlled the slow movement of his mouth with her own. A delighted rumble thrummed in the back of his throat, the pillowy silk of her lips and tongue pulling him further from the inky void of sleep. The telltale heat of arousal was already pooling in his groin; her touch like flint and steel, sparking his desire with ease.

When she finally broke away, Ahk’s eyes fluttered open, eager to marvel at the woman looming over him in the light of early dawn. His grin was impossible to keep properly masked.

The early-morning sky was a fresco of muted tones, blues and pinks, and lavenders, all working simultaneously to give Nouke’s coppery skin an intrinsic glow. Every dip and swell of her body made Ahkmenrah’s heart race and his mind cloudy. She was breathtaking: a masterpiece that could have only been sculpted by the gods. Any man would have been lucky to have her, and she had chosen him.

Even as pharaoh, Ahkmenrah hardly felt deserving of a being with abundant beauty and spirit. She was stronger than him in every way, and he loved her all the more because of her heartened tenacity.

As her dark, amber eyes watched him reverently, palms lying flat against his chest, he continued to drink in the sight of her. He proudly noted each of the marks along her neck and shoulders—tiny brushstrokes of purple—where he’d suckled and nipped until he provoked delicious sounds from her lips as they made love. Oh, how he longed to hear those melodies again.

Finally, Ahkmenrah rested his hands on her hips, gently squeezing the soft flesh, unable to quell the need to touch her any longer.

“Sorry I woke you,” Nouke murmured, her eyes on him with a worshipful intensity.

“I’m not.” Ahk’s grin grew wider until it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I had to make sure you were really here.” A glint of ruefulness stole the shine from her eyes momentarily, and he gave her hips another squeeze as reassurance.

“I’m here,” he promised as his smile faded into a look of compassion. He would never leave her again—not longer than he had too.

Nouke held his gaze until her sadness folded under his tenderhearted expression. She moved her focus in a bashful gesture to the fan of his fingers laid across the flare of her hip.

“How is your hand?” she asked in a in a not so subtle attempt to take his intimate focus away from her.

Ahkmenrah blinked several times having forgotten all about his bruised knuckles.

In truth, the pharaoh forgot almost everything—including his grand title—having been utterly lost in Nouke, both figuratively and literally.

“The bandages came off during our exertions; it would seem.” Ahkmenrah stretched and balled his fist as he spoke, gauging the severity of the injury.

The ache remained—thrumming in time with his pulse—but was something he could easily ignore given the proper distraction: like having the woman he loved before him, naked and kissing each of his hurt knuckles.

Nouke held his injured hand in hers as she reached for the roll of clean linen strips tossed among the pile of supplies she’d brought to the roof the night before. Once again, she began meditatively wrapping the cut and bruised flesh. The tender caress of her fingers over his skin as she tucked and tied the bandages around his knuckles was inherently intimate and entrancing to watch.

When she finished, she tore the excess away with her teeth, then kissed the freshly covered wounds again.

“Thank you,” he said on a wistful exhale—utterly captivated.

Nouke's lips quirked into a soft grin, “You’re welcome.”

Ahkmenrah sat up a second later, circling his arms around her waist and her’s wove around his neck—resting on his shoulders—while her fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head. Gingerly, he tilted his forehead to meet hers, locking her gaze with his own.

“Be my queen,” he murmured; his tone a breathy wish.

Never had he wanted anything more than her.

“You will never again need to work a field or go without food. Your mother will be cared for by my priests and healers—our children will be great rulers of this empire.” He paused long enough to fight back the welling, joy-filled tears blurring his vision. “Be my queen so that we will never again find each other apart.”

Nouke smiled softly and touched his face, mapping a feather-light trail from his cheek to his chin as her eyes searched his expression for a sign of trickery.

“Are you sure?” she whispered as a hint of doubt crept into both her tone and her smile. “I come from nothing…”

Uncertainty stole away more of her smile, and Ahk quickly cupped her face, thumbs gently sweeping at the corners of her mouth, trying to coax back her smile.

“Never have I been more sure of anything,” he promised without hesitation. “You are the only person I wish to devote myself to—completely—in this life, and all others.”

His words evoked joy to wash over and relax her features as happiness spilled down her cheeks in two solitary tears that Ahk brushed away, smiling.

“Be my queen, Nouke,” he asked once more. “Please.”

Her misty eyes searched his face again, her fingers moving to trace his bottom lip, then she nodded.

“Okay.” The simple response crashed into him with overwhelming force and a small chuckle—a cumulation of his joy, awe, and disbelief—vibrated through him as his own tears fell freely. Ahk hugged her tightly against his chest and kissed her until they were both breathless.

***

Dawn lingered, its beauty still painting the sky with soft hues of morning when Ahkmenrah announced his need to return to the palace.

Both reveled in the serenity of dawn, prolonging every moment tangled in each other—bodies molded together in a twisted mess of limbs. Nouke was certain she had found nirvana enveloped in her pharaoh’s arms, the sound of his heart against her ear, while his fingers absently drew sweeping shapes over her skin. The timbre of his voice was warm and gentle as he told her stories of his time venturing through the land he now ruled, just as he had promised to do so many years before.

The tranquility was almost enough to lull her back to sleep as they laid together; the bass of Ahk’s voice so smooth. Its low inflection made it near impossible to keep her eyes from drooping. Her desire, however, to relish in the imagery he painted of all the places he’d seen was enough to deter the tiredness that beckoned her.

“Ahk?” she said in a low murmur as her mind dared to imagine the blue waters of the Mediterranean and the temple of Khonshu he spoke of. “Promise you’ll take me there.”

She knew it was wrong to be envious of his fortunate travels, but it was difficult to stifle how much she yearned for a similar adventure.

“I promise,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

As his stories of adventure reached their conclusion, the two of them grew quiet, eyes fixated overhead while they watched the pastel clouds drift on their own journey across the desert sky. Nouke felt the familiar heaviness of sleep tempting her again, so comfortable and at peace nestled beside Ahkmenrah. When he sat up enough to rest his back on the makeshift cushions, however, the sleepiness ebbed and Nouke frowned.

“I don’t want you to go.”

He sighed as he pulled her snug against his chest, holding her safe.

“I just need a day or two to get things in order, my love. Then I will return to you with news. You mustn’t fear.”

Nouke met his eyes, finding them big and beautiful and full of his affection, losing herself in them until she husked out a quiet word.

“Promise?”

He dazzled her with a show of his teeth—a brilliant smile—that set her heart racing just before he kissed her deeply, reassuring her he would never again leave as he did before.

“I promise.”

They took their time helping each other dress in a series of feather-light touches and long, loving glances that did little to ease their impending separation. Nouke all but leapt into his arms as she embraced him, gliding her fingers through his curls, before tying her arms around his neck. She filled her lungs with his scent of papyrus, lamp oil, and lotus blossom (his favorite blooms in their West Garden). The wave of nostalgia bit into her with a sharp sting of bitter-sweet memories and she missed him already.

“Two days at most,” he vowed, inhaling deeply as he buried his nose against her neck and shoulder. “Take time to collect your things, I will return to you soon, my queen.”

Nouke could only manage a nod, finding her words caught behind the lump in her throat. She had at most three material things to her name; gathering them would not be enough to aptly distract her from his absence. There was still plenty of farming to be done, however, and she knew she would bury herself in it to keep her heart from wallowing.

Together they made their way down into her home, finding it empty as they went. Nouke thought little of the vacancy, Ahkmenrah’s hand in hers too distracting as she guided him along. Her feet fumbled to a stop, however, when she came upon the sight of her mother on her hands and knees in the garden they kept, with Kamuzu assisting her.

Maketaten glanced their way as the king and soon-to-be queen descended the stairs. Kamuzu followed her glance, and both of them threw them knowing smiles.

“We were beginning to wonder when the two of you would grace us with your presence," Kamuzu chided in a light tone, wiping the earth from his hands as he stood to help Nouke’s mother to her feet.

The rest of the stairs became an arduous obstacle to maneuver as Nouke’s wobbly knees fought to conquer them; feeling entirely exposed. Ahkmenrah, however, seemed emboldened by their playfully teasing glances and all but floated the rest of the way down.

The grin he wore was exultant and brighter than the rays peeking from behind the clouds. He mustered his own bout of playful hubris, and his chest swelled with pride; Nouke could only roll her eyes adoringly at the king's triumphant display.

“Mother,” Nouke said blatantly ignoring the figurative elephant in the garden. “Why did you not wake me to help?”

Her mother’s health was miles ahead of where it had been before Ahkmenrah graciously intervened, but she still struggled and grew tired easily.

“You were busy,” Maketaten stated cooly with a dismissive wave, and moved her sights to Ahk. “Good morning your majesty."

She bowed her head.

“Good morning to you as well,” Ahk cast her a charming grin, and inclined his head in return. “I am pleased to see your health has improved.”

Maketaten nodded as she smiled, “Yes, thanks to you and to my daughter.”

“She is very special, your daughter. Very special.” Ahkmenrah’s eyes drifted to meet Nouke’s with a quiet intimacy.

She had gotten lost in that same reverent gaze before—several times, in fact—as they rocked together in the throes of passion only hours ago. While the intensity was more reserved, it was still enough to make Nouke’s body ache to have him again.

“My king,” Kamuzu said, his tone shifting back to one of business.

Ahk blinked a few times, batting away his look of affection and cast an inquiring look to his guardian.

“I’m afraid you have extended this excursion long past due. I must see you back to the palace.”

Ahkmenrah shook his head, and never let his smile fall from his face.

“This was more than an excursion, my friend.” He looked to Nouke, the pharaoh’s grin widening. “This was a matter of the crown.”

Kamuzu nodded his understanding, letting the tiniest hint of a smile curl his pursed lips as his glance passed between the lovers.

“Of course, my king. But I doubt your father or the council will see it that way.”

Ahkmenrah shrugged as confidence aligned his posture, “I am the pharaoh. On this particular matter, I intend to do as I please.”

His Medjay guardian didn’t argue and slipped away to the front gate to wait for the pharaoh to finish his good-byes.

Nouke’s stomach felt suddenly heavy, her heart a similar weight but racing in her chest at the notion of Ahk leaving again. Their story was fraught with farewells, and Nouke was tired of them. Every step closer came with another obstacle. She knew her path should have stayed far from his; each turn seemed harder to tread, yet he always managed to come back to her and help maneuver every trial that sought to part them.

The promise he left her with was enough to allay the sense of melancholy for a while, and she smiled when he took her into his arms for a final kiss that was just this side of over-indulgent—not that Nouke minded.

She knew watching him go would never be easy; the more of him she tasted, the more difficult it was to let him go.

***

The sun was high overhead—the peaceful hues of the morning giving way to a vivid blue sky—when Ahkmenrah made his way back through the hidden passage of the garden wall. Immediately his mind was teeming with all that had to be done before he could tie himself to the woman he loved forever. There were people to inform, contracts to write, unions to break. All of it should have felt daunting, but the reward that would follow far outweighed the impending tasks themselves. Ahkmenrah would do everything he needed to in order to call Nouke his queen.

The thrill that had carried him all morning waned unexpectedly when his eyes found Kahmunrah, seemingly waiting for him in the West Garden. His brother watched through narrowed eyes, intrigue furrowing his brow as he stepped nearer to investigate what laid beyond the row of foliage the pharaoh had just stepped from.

Ahkmenrah hurried to meet his brother before he could snoop too closely, not wanting the secret of the broken wall to get out. There was something unsettling about Kahmunrah knowing the breach existed; Ahk wasn’t sure why, but something implored he kept the knowledge of the passageway from his brother.

The pharaoh made no attempt to hide the anger that overtook his features; suddenly fighting the urge to swing his injured fist once more at Kah’s smug face. He did not like the image of Kahmunrah in his garden.

“What have you been doing in this garden all night?” he probed, craning his neck to search the line of brush Ahkmenrah wandered out of.

“And in servant robes no less,” Kahmunrah mused, noting the garments Ahkmenrah and Kamuzu both wore with a look of disgust.

Ahk held his brother’s leer, tapping into the rage deep within him in order to match the intensity of Kahmunrah’s presence.

“Did I not make my demand clear, brother? You will recall my request for you to stay out of my sight.”

“Oh, I recall,” Kah chided with a flare of indifference that made Ahkmenrah’s blood boil. “I simply wish to know why our precious pharaoh has been missing all of last night and this morning.”

Ahkmenrah made a point of not supplying Kah with an answer—he didn’t deserve one. Instead, he gathered a smug grin akin to the ones Kahmunrah had mastered years prior, offering a true ‘wouldn’t you like to know’ expression that quickly yanked a frown onto his older brother’s lips.

The two stood, locked in a silent exchange—neither willing to waver—until Kamuzu stepped between them.

“You are in no place to make demands of our king,” the Medjay spoke boldly. “Now, remove yourself from his majesty's presence, or I shall remove you myself.”

Kahmunrah’s eyes narrowed and his chin rose in challenge, delighted by the notion of someone else pulled into his game.

“Do my ears deceive me, or did I detect a threat in those words?”

“Kahmunrah!” Ahk shouted; his nerves shot. He was done with his brother’s incessant play for power.

“By the gods, I will have you thrown into a cell if you do not leave my sight this instant!” The venom in his voice was enough to combat his brother’s fiendish, hubris and Kah sneered.

“I do believe I liked you better with no backbone, little brother.”

Ahkmenrah’s teeth were set against each other—jaw tight—and his eyes narrowed.

“You insult me? Your king?”

“Yes,” Kah hissed. “I insult you, fore you are not my king.”

Something snapped deep inside Ahkmenrah, the gate bursting to allow his rage to rip through him like fire. He was practically shaking with anger when he squared his shoulders and built himself into the posture of a king. Ahk channeled that fire to fuel the uncharacteristically cruel demand he was about to speak—he could think of no other way to teach his brother.

“Put him in a cell,” the pharaoh spoke calmly despite the turmoil mixing with his anger.

Kahmunrah was a man of brash action, and it was going to take a brash action for him to even begin to understand the degree of what he had done. Maybe then he would learn the path the gods gave him: learn his place in the grand scheme of things.

“As of this moment you are no longer a member of my council. You will no longer hold a title or power in Egypt. This will be your sentence until I feel you have proven to me your unyielding loyalty.”

Kah almost looked amused. But there was a ravenous fury in the black of his eyes; he wasn’t afraid, he was nothing except his anger.

“Get this man out of my sight,” Ahkmenrah demanded, struggling to maintain his resolve.

When the last syllable fell from the pharaoh’s mouth, Kamuzu barked a single worded command, and four Medjay appeared to descend upon Kahmunrah—holding him with rivaled strength. He went quietly, eerily so, and his animalistic eyes never left Ahk’s.

As soon as Kah was gone, a heavy sigh shook through Ahkmenrah, suddenly encumbered with guilt and the sense of exhaustion that often coupled with holding onto rage and anger; it was twisting and dark and un-beguiling to host. For a moment, the pharaoh pondered how his brother managed every day harboring such intense contempt.

He let his mind drift, allowing the tension to drain from his body as he took deep breaths to calm himself. There was a pang in his gut that was a different kind of darkness, and it left him questioning whether his actions towards his brother were duly justified.

“That apprehension you are feeling,” Kamuzu spoke. “That is how you know you are still a good man. A lesser man would have no sympathy…”

He paused for a moment to think before meeting the pharaoh’s eyes, “Your brother comes to mind.”

A weak smile pulled the corners of Ahkmenrah’s lips; the sincerity of Kamuzu’s words helped to calm him.

“Thank you.” His ever-watchful guardian was every bit as wise as he was strong; every day Ahk was grateful to call him a friend.

“An honor, my king.” With another deep breath, the remainder of Ahkmenrah’s tenuous nerves mended—burying his anger for the time being.

“Come on, there is lots to be done,” Ahk announced, finding the joy he’d held before stumbling upon his brother.

Hope once again fueled his body, working a great smile on his features and filled his steps with tenacity. As he strode through the halls of his glittering palace, his mind sorted all that would need to be done for a proper royal wedding. If he could truly have it his way, Ahk would have seen to it that he and Nouke were wed that very evening. But as pharaoh, there was a certain guise of political obligation that kept him from making that decision. Advisors had to be informed (even if he did plan to ultimately disregard their wants for him); notable dignitaries had to be summoned with an invitation so as not to slight their allies with swollen egos. It would be days before anything could actually take place.

Ahkmenrah hated being at the mercy of his duty; he wanted Nouke at his side for the rest of time, as soon as possible.

***

As was per the usual routine, the council meeting came later in the evening once all of his other duties were seen to. The day progressed at a sluggish pace, but Ahkmenrah’s determination fueled him with zeal despite his tiredness. He yearned to finally put an end to the charade he’d lived for years so he would be, at last, free to move forward with the happiness in his heart. But there remained a mountain of responsibilities to be seen to before his path was clear to take what he wanted.

A palpable disquiet suffocated the council chamber when Ahkmenrah joined his advisors with his mother and sister behind him. Kahmunrah’s absence seemed to be putting everyone ill at ease, as well as the pharaoh’s disappearance the night before. The uncommon presence of Shepseheret and Setshepsut also triggered a fresh wave of whispers that were neither quiet nor pleasant to hear. Worse, however, was Merenkahre’s immediate suspicious glance, well masked under his usual stoic expression.

Regardless of their obvious uneasiness, all the advisors stood when Ahkmenrah entered with his guests in tow. The moment he motioned them all to return to their seats, the advisors wasted no time in pelting him with questions.

Each one he dodged skillfully. There was much to tell his advisors, but the secret passage in the West Garden was not a topic he wanted to bring attention to. As far as he was concerned, that hidden pathway was the cornerstone to all his best memories, and Ahk was not about to have anyone ruin it for him.

“It is no concern of anyone's where I was yesterday,” Ahkmenrah stated firmly, putting an end to their, frankly, insulting reasons for his absence.

The vague answers did little to inspire cooperation among the advisors—they only pressed harder. Meren’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Ahkmenrah could almost feel him trying to pick clues from his expression and the glances he shared with his mother and sister. Ahk ignored his father’s scrutiny, unwilling to hinder the confidence he’d found in the promise of a blissful future.

“If you refuse to divulge where it was you have been, my pharaoh. Then perhaps you are more inclined to tell us why your brother is not present for this meeting,” Tahut-Mut (Kah’s top general) asked looking peeved.

Ahkmenrah pursed his lips and flexed his injured knuckles as a reminder to keep himself from acting rashly towards one of his brother's men whom he couldn’t so easily be rid of. Tahut-Mut was a general and had been before Ahk had taken the throne. He was too skilled to remove from his station, but he’d always favored the pharaoh’s older brother.

“Actually, that is one of the many important discussions I wish to address this evening," Ahk stated cooly.

News of his brother’s incarceration was sure to upset a number of men seated at the table—Tahut-Mut the most—but it was his father’s judgment Ahk feared overall.

Ahkmenrah stalled only long enough to square his shoulders and hold himself higher before glancing around the table to begin.

“As of this morning, Kahmunrah has been stripped of all titles and positions—as well as his seat at this table until I command otherwise.

Several councilmen shared a look of bafflement and a furrowed brow. It was not only Tahut that held the most favor with Kahmunrah; a few were like his brother: they found power to be the ultimate feat of a ruler. Ahk kept them within his circle in an attempt not to offend Kah. They’re shock, and irritation was to be expected. The pharaoh would regard them closely to see how they acted with Kah no longer seated among them. If their allegiance stopped with Kahmunrah, Ahk would see to their removal (they were not irreplaceable generals) and the pharaoh was tired of having to prove himself an able ruler.

While the council fussed or rejoiced about Kahmunrah’s imprisonment, Ahk turned his focus to his Grand Consul, watching Meren’s expression the closest. Surprisingly, Merenkahre’s features were collected, twisted with nothing more than slight inquiry. Ahk held his father’s gaze, unwilling to fold.

Finally, Merenkahre lifted his hand to silence the bickering that was growing louder every passing second.

“What was his offense?”

The pharaoh swallowed back the abrupt pang of anxiety his father’s question prompted; unsure if it was genuine or a test—or both. Nevertheless, he answered quickly and with decisiveness.

“For the unlawful treatment of a soldier, as well as the queen.” Ahk looked to his sister, trying not to focus on the vivid bruise around her upper arm, knowing it would provoke his anger.

Purposely he flexed his knuckles and let the ache cool his mind before he spoke again.

“He also showed disobedience to the crown. The men in his employ sought to raise arms against their pharaoh while I was unarmed.”

A stunned look consumed the faces of men Ahk knew to be loyal to him; their outrage fostered a sense of solidarity that he was glad for. Tahut-Mut, however, looked on unfazed by the notion.

He cast the pharaoh a heavy leer, as though he suspected what he’d said to be lies.

“And who bared witness to this controversy?”

“Me!” Shepseheret’s usual sing-song voice rang with a protective hostility that stilled the air. “As well as your queen; do you not see the bruise she carries? How dare you question your king!”

Tahut’s scrutiny hastily fell from his expression, and he shifted uneasily in his seat; cowering under her vehement glare.

A fresh quiet swept over the chamber—no man foolish enough to argue with the regent queen—giving Ahkmenrah back his platform to speak.

“Kahmunrah’s men have since been exiled from these grounds.”

“And where is Kahmunrah now?” a man asked, true curiosity in his tone, free of contempt.

“In a cell,” Ahkmenrah declared without missing a beat, tilting his chin and waiting to see if anyone challenged his decision. “It should be noted that he was initially reprimanded mildly for the degree of his actions yesterday. However, this morning he chose to further irritate his sentence. My brother will remain in his cell until I feel his loyalty has realigned. And only then may he earn back his titles.”

No man argued and Ahk took their silence as compliance, although Tahut-Mut’s grimace was difficult to miss.

“Until that time, I will choose a Medjay to head the position of Consul of Montu.”

Whispers spread quickly, the overt sense they were not completely sold on the notion, but again, none of them argued.

“So be it,” Merenkahre stated firmly, drawing a hush over the other advisors. “What is next, your majesty?"

All eyes turned to the pharaoh with fresh interest as though the topic of Kahmunrah’s imprisonment had not affected them at all moments prior.

Ahk’s gaze fell upon his sister as he spoke, “The next matter concerns Setshepsut and myself.”

The intrigue on his advisors faces rooted deeper, most of them hanging on his every word as though he was telling the most gripping tale they’d ever heard. Meren’s expression, however, contorted once more with a mask of quiet suspicion.

The pharaoh was unsure what his father knew about the incident in the throne room the day before. His puzzlement creased his brow, giving evidence that Merenkahre was surely unaware of most everything.

Words stuck on Ahkmenrah’s tongue as he battled a wave of apprehension, knowing the upheaval he was about to cause. Advisors did not like surprises.

Set cast him a soft smile, enough encouragement to rival his anxiety, and Ahkmenrah swallowed as he corrected his slightly wilted posture.

“I have decided to annul my marriage to Setshepsut, thereby granting her the freedom to marry outside of duty.”

Whispers engulfed the room again, and their father’s glower was firm enough to shake the earth.

“You have yet to take a second wife,” Merenkahre told him in a calm shade that did not match his expression. “It would be unwise to dismiss a queen without another to rule beside you.”

“I have already found my new queen,” Ahkmenrah said, struggling to mask his pride and enthusiasm. He wanted to grin, but he managed to keep himself collected.

The news of a replacement queen was enough to relieve some of the building tension. His councilmen relaxed into their chairs with glad faces and exchanged pleasant chatter once more. Even the glower on his father’s face ebbed enough to allow inquiry to press a line across his brow.

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone caught somewhere between collected irritation and genuine confusion. “As far as I am aware, all the brides I picked for you have since left these halls—you having found none of them to your liking.”

That reserved frustration came to a head when his father spoke, and Ahkmenrah sensed an argument brewing; one he was most willing to fight, but otherwise disheartened that he would have to.

“None of them were to my liking. You are right, father,” Ahkmenrah admitted keeping his tone even, wanting to keep the discussion civil for as long as possible.

It was under his narrowed glare that the pharaoh realized it would have been wiser to have brought the topic of annulling marriages and marrying commoners to his father prior to the meeting. Within the walls of the council chamber, Merenkahre held himself first and foremost as the right hand of the pharaoh. In passing and in private, however, Meren radiated fatherly kindness free of the shackles of duty.

The role of a resolute advisor was expected of him when an audience of colleagues was present (a charade Ahkmenrah understood) still he hated it. Out from under watchful eyes, Ahk wondered if his father would have regarded the circumstances differently. But it was too late to dwell on could-haves and should-haves.

“I was recently reacquainted with a friend from my youth, Anuksamun. She came to me, asking for my help and during the short time I spent with her, I realized that I gave her my heart long before I wore this crown.”

Ahkmenrah kept his eyes trained on his mother and sister, using their warm expressions as fuel to keep his confidence burning. His father’s narrowed eyes would surely seek to snuff out his flame.

“This friend of yours,” one of the other advisors spoke, already sounding as though he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Is she noble?”

“No,” Ahkmenrah confirmed with pride. “She and her mother own a farm.”

The whispers started again, this time with an accent of desperation and concern; as though the thought of their pharaoh naming a commoner as queen was utterly repugnant. A frown, laden with annoyance, curled Ahk’s lips, hearing and watching the men before him bicker about how he should live his life like he was not there. It was insulting.

Even so, Ahk sighed and let his ire billow out of him to ensure he stayed the calm, collected ruler he wanted to be.

“And how is it that you came to befriend a farm girl so young?” Merenkahre asked with a raised brow.

“She was not a farmer when I knew her,” Ahk told his father. “She was a servant here at the palace.”

That was somehow worse than the notion of wanting to marry a common farmer. A farmer was—after all—considered a person. They were skilled craftsmen with a trade that offered plentiful aid for all of Egypt. A servant, however, was the lowest being in the land. They had no skills to offer—just a lifetime of servitude.

“Her father was a commanding officer in my father’s army,” Ahkmenrah bit out with more venom then he’d intended, but it effectively put an end to their seething ramblings. “And her mother served as my mother’s maidservant: who became a loyal trusted friend of the former queen.”

The room turned their collective leer upon Shepseheret, and she stared back, emboldened almost, by the fiery looks the councilmen cast her way. Even Merenkahre’s sharp glare settled on his wife in search of affirmation, and she easily combated his glower with an expression much more resolute.

When his father’s eyes turned once again to the pharaoh, Ahk found the aggression gone.

“The daughter of a loyal Queen’s Servant?”

Ahkmenrah nodded, watching his father slowly sift through his thoughts with honest consideration.

“As well as a loyal soldier?”

“Yes, father.”

A hint of hopefulness surged with fervor through his body, making his heart beat rapidly. For a moment, Meren’s unwavering advisor mantle faded away, his expression becoming a window to his thoughts until a trace of distaste devoured the prospect of leniency.

Ahkmenrah knew then, he had not won yet.

“Such a union will taint our bloodline. Gods-blood is noble blood. Your friend is not noble.”

The finality of his father’s tone shook the room and prompted Ahk’s strong, collected composure to crack. A scowl twisted onto his face as he let his irritation ignite his features for the room to see.

“Might I remind you, father, that my mother—your wife—who I know you love deeply, was not noble when you married her. She was the daughter of a general.” Ahk said robustly. “And while generals do hold a higher title then a soldier, they are not, themselves, noble.”

Ahk paused long enough to reign in some of his anger, not wanting fiery words to spew regrets. When he spoke again, his tone was completely composed.

“How is what I seek any different?”

Merenkahre held his son’s gaze with no reply until his eyes fell to the table, taking his defeat calmly. A pensiveness was marked by the hard line on his lips and brow, but no other argument came from him.

Ahkmenrah relaxed slightly, feeling as though the last of the obstacles had been conquered. That was until Tahut-Mut spoke again, making the pharaoh’s lax posture tense.

“This servant girl of which you so highly speak, is she not kin to the soldier suspected of stealing your prized tablet?”

All at once, Ahkmenrah’s rigid muscles grew tight like stone, jaw clenching, and fists balling. His anger ripped through him, and it took several deep breaths before he worked his fury into something manageable. When he moved his attention to the General (who’d foolishly thought to bring up the topic) Ahkmenrah’s voice was low—veering much too close to sinister—as residual contempt coated every word that flowed from his mouth.

“From my understanding, that matter was poorly handled. My tablet was recovered the day before I returned to Waset—a suspicious notion, in and of itself—which was long after the suspected thieves had been exiled. Found among clutter?” Ahk’s eyes narrowed, gauging Tahut-Mut suspiciously. “Yes, I do believe it was you and my brother who claimed to have found it tossed among a heap of scrapped idols, conveniently in no one’s possession.”

Tahut leered back at the pharaoh, insultingly so, and spoke.

“It is likely they disposed of it heedlessly so as not to be caught with it, your majesty."

Ahkmenrah was not going to budge when it came to Nouke and her family. They were only ever kind people, loyal in duty, and in heart, it was heresy to suspect them of crimes at all.

“Speculation is all you have,” Ahkmenrah reminded him cooly. “And I refuse to condemn an entire family on no more than speculation. I am not my brother.

Tahut sneered, “Indeed.”

“Besides.” The pharaoh’s fire simmered to a dying ember. “The struggles they found in exile were punishments enough for their imagined slights. No longer will this be.”

More hushed voices rose to clamor, spreading through the room from man to man like a malignant disease, their displeasure bleeding into the very atmosphere. Each of their pestilent tones stuck to Ahkmenrah’s skin as though their words poisoned the air around him.

But he was not foolish enough to expect smiles and praise from his advisors. He knew all the news he brought forth would spur arguments. However, in the back of his mind, Ahk had hoped to sway the majority of them to his side. In regard to his father, Ahkmenrah supposed that had gone as well as it could have. Meren’s disquiet was more about feeling wounded than angry, setting deep in his own thoughts—his expression distant.

Before long, the incessant squabbling and whispers were too much; the fuss was beginning to make the pharaoh’s head hurt. With a loud sigh, Ahkmenrah accepted his losing battle; there was no way to sway them. As king, however, he could easily win the war.

“Gentlemen,” Ahkmenrah said stern enough to gain everyone's attention. His tone was soft and composed, perhaps even somewhat disappointed, but he held himself high and immovable.

“The purpose of this meeting was not to ask your permission in regard to the matters I have presented today. I will be breaking my marriage to Setshepsut and marrying Anuksamun. It is out of the respect I hold for each of you that I have taken the time to inform you of my decisions.”

Ahkmenrah met the eyes of every man at the table, “Am I clear?”

Without hesitation, his men nodded as a choir of “Yes, my pharaoh,” echoed in the room.

The sound of their dutiful compliance aroused a fissure of excitement to bloom in his chest—relief too—and his closed-lip grin was too strong to suppress. For the first time in his reign, he could command a selfish joy; not his responsibility to his people but a true wish he wanted for himself alone. It was a significant indulgence to be greedy and staunch in a decision, and if he could only allow himself one selfish thing in all his years, Ahkmenrah was thrilled to use it to make Nouke his queen.

“Before this meeting comes to a close, there is one more topic to see to,” the pharaoh said before his memory grew too consumed with joy to remember. “The soldier Satauhotep is to be given a higher rank in my army as compensation for the trouble Kahmunrah caused him.”

For once, no one held any quarrel with the pharaoh’s demand, and Ahkmenrah turned to his father.

“Will you see to this?”

“Of course, my pharaoh.’ Merenkahre nodded.

“Thank you.”

Ahkmenrah dismissed the men at the table, asking only his father stay behind. When the last council member closed the door behind him, Shepseheret stood and laid a familiar scroll of papyrus before them. A strike was drawn through Ahkmenrah and Setshepsut’s marriage contract, marking the previous negotiation void. Below a new line was scribed stating the terms of the annulment (incompatibility) and already declared with the marks of Ahk, Set, and Shep.

Merenkahre eyed the document with hesitance but not distaste.

“I had Mother and Set change the contract this morning,” Ahkmenrah explained when his father continued to study the transcript with nothing to say.

“In the eyes of the gods, we are no longer wed. All I ask is you honor me—” he looked at his sister. “Honor us, with your blessing as Mother has done. Make your mark again.”

Ahkmenrah held his breath and Set took his hand in solidarity, either for his benefit or her own. Nevertheless, he was glad for it and gave it a warmhearted squeeze.

“Please, father,” Setshepsut murmured.

Minutes passed slow and heavy, thrumming almost painfully like the pulse behind a bruise. It let the sting of disappointment bite into each of them when the former king kept his eyes locked on the papyrus with no reply.

Finally, he looked to his wife, his hard exterior fading away the moment their eyes met.

“Do you believe this to be wise?”

Shepseheret smiled and nodded, “Egypt prospered under our love, Meren. Let it be so with Ahkmen’s. Anuksamun will make our son happy, and she will be a great queen.”

Merenkahre was quiet again, taking his time to consider his wife’s wisdom, blinking at the document until he stood and made his mark next to Shep’s. Ahkmenrah’s smile unfurled steadily and Set all but jumped her joy beside him.

All at once, years of stress vanished from his shoulders. No longer would the two of them need to play the charade they had mastered over the years. They were free.

Ahk threw his arms around his sister and kissed her cheek when she returned the embrace just as tightly.

“Go tell Satauhotep he is free to court you properly.”

Setshepsut’s eyes were misty and wide with excitement. She kissed his cheek too, “Thank you!”

Ahk watched her bound out of the chamber on buoyant steps as her happiness consumed her, and it made his smile grow even fuller. His attention was startled away when his father’s hand grasped his shoulder, prompting the pharaoh to spin to meet compassionate eyes staring at him.

“I only ever intended your happiness, my son. You and Setshepsut were so close in your youth—I thought the two of you would be a good match. I am sorry.”

Ahkmenrah’s smiled turned soft, seeing the sincerity in Merenkahre’s expression, “I know, father.”

They held each other's gaze for a long moment of silent convergence marking the love and respect they harbored for the other. Merenkahre cleared his throat and let his hand fall to his side, shoulders squaring as he regained the persona of the Grand Consul once more.

“Give me time to call on our friends to attend your union with Anuksamun. I will see to it that we welcome our new queen with a feast and celebration.”

There was a glimmer of compassion in his father’s eyes: his want to make the occasion special more than just his duty. Ahkmenrah smiled on account.

“Thank you, father.” Merenkahre bowed as he departed, taking his wife by the hand as she went, but not before she could leave her son with a motherly kiss to his cheek.

Ahkmenrah lingered in the quiet of the council chamber long enough to toy with the notion of sneaking off to be with Nouke for the remainder of the night. He missed her, but returning would undoubtedly lead to another sleepless night of passion and praise. As tempting as that notion was, duty would be calling upon him early come the morning. As much as he hated being away, logic forced them apart yet again.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Fourteen: What We Should Be

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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schneesisterss · 4 years

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oh bees schnees prompts, excellent!! au where weiss went dancing with the bees + fnki after all 💕

This got a little spicy. Thanks for the prompt! I had a great time writing it :)

You can also read it on ao3 here

Enjoy!

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Weiss sat at the bar in the dance club. There was a man sitting next to her, talking, trying to keep her attention. She couldn't tell you his name. His voice was muffled by the music, barely registering in Weiss’ mind. She was too transfixed by the site in front of her. Her heart thumped in rhythm with the heavy bass. On the dance floor, not twenty feet from where Weiss was watching, Blake and Yang were dancing.

Yang had her whole front flushed against Blakes back as they moved together. Blake's hand was curled around the back of Yangs neck, tugging her in close until they were sharing air. Yang's hands roamed possessively around her hips, guiding, leading.

Weiss was having a hard time breathing. She had known there was something going on between the two, but to see it happening right before her… Weiss squashed down the feeling of envy. She tore her eyes away with a heavy swallow just to turn and wave down the bartender. Weiss didn't drink, for obvious reasons, but right now she desperately needed a glass of water.

Team FNKI was around here somewhere too. She vaguely remembers Neon telling her they were going to go out back for a smoke. She asked Weiss if she wanted to come, but she distractedly declined, focused solely on the movements of her teammates.

(Neon had given her a knowing look, but Weiss didn't see it.)

Weiss doesn't know how she was convinced by the other two to tag along. She was supposed to go to the movies with Oscar and Jaune. Maybe it was the bright and hopeful look on Yang's face when she extended the invitation to Weiss. Maybe it was Blake offering to do her makeup, her smile soft but her eyes fiery. Weiss found she couldn't say no.

“-and so maybe you could come to my place tonight?”

Weiss blinked. She had actually forgotten about the man sitting next to her.

“What?”

No-name man smirked, like he thought he was flustering her, and turned his body towards her in the chair. Weiss wrinkled her nose as the smell of his cologne wafted through the air, invading her senses.

“Come on,” he said cockily, “let's go back to my place. I can show you a good time.”

“No thanks.” Weiss clipped, grabbing the glass of water the bartender handed her way, drinking about half, before setting it down. “I’ll pass.”

An annoyed look passed over the man's face as he narrowed his eyes. “So what, you're not even gonna give me a chance? I even bought you a drink.”

Weiss looked down to the counter. He had bought her a drink. Granted, it was untouched and she didn't even realize it was there until he just pointed it out. He must've done that when she was… distracted earlier.

Weiss stiffened when she felt his hand slide onto her lower back. His hands felt too big, too commanding. Weiss felt herself freeze up.

“No.” She said firmly, straightening her spine and stepping away, only for him to follow. “Look, I'm here with my friends. I'm not interested.”

“Lets go dance then, maybe I can change your mind.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. Weiss dug her heels into the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Hey what's your probl-” He was cut off when a couple things happened at once.

One, something, or rather someone, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him backwards, sending him reeling away. And two, she was embraced with soft hands, one curling protectively around her waist and the other softly circling the same wrist the man had grabbed. It took her a couple seconds to actually register what happened.

Yang was standing in front of the man, her eyes had flickers of red bleeding into purple.

“What the hell!” The man got up in Yang's face.

“Back off.” Yang snarled, Weiss could tell she was holding back, if the clenched fists at her side were any indication.

A brush of a thumb across Weiss’ wrist drew her attention to her side. Blake had wrapped herself around Weiss. Positioning herself so she was in between the man and the smaller girl. She wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind her, knowing Yang could handle it.

She was searching Weiss’ face for any sign of harm or discomfort. “Are you ok?”

Weiss blushed, the close proximity making her stomach flop. “Yes, I'm fine. He just couldn't take a hint.”

“Why were you alone, where's Team FNKI?” Blakes eyes scanned the bar behind her.

“Hey,” Weiss said, drawing Blakes attention back to her with a touch to the arm wrapped around her. “I’m fine, I promise. I can take care of myself you know.”

Blakes ears flattened against her head. “I know I just-”

“What’s a Schnee doing in a place like this anyways?” The man's voice was loud and irritated. Weiss felt her heart sink a little, no matter how hard she tried, she could never unlink herself to that name. He was still in Yang's face, but the other girl seemed more annoyed than angry now, her eyes back to their normal color.

“Just leave us alone dude.”

The man squared his shoulders, sizing Yang up. Uh oh. That wasn't going to go over well.

Weiss decided to step in. She stepped around Blake, but stayed close to the Faunus so she still had her arm wrapped around her. “Look, just please go, we don't want to cause anymore trouble.” Yang took a step back to fill in the space on the other side of Weiss, bracketing her in.

The man's eyes jumped between the three of them before setting on Blake. They slide from the arm around Weiss’ middle to her ears on top of her head. He scoffs. Weiss feels Blake stiffen and Yang's aura spike.

“Seriously? This must be some type of joke. You of all people, here with a Faunus?” He laughed bitterly. “Didn't know a Schnee would stoop so low.”

Weiss felt anger swell inside her. She felt it bubble up until her face was red. She felt Yang too, her aura flaring up dangerously. She was about to step forward to give that man a piece of her mind, but before either of them could do anything, Blake stepped in front of him first.

She leveled the man with a deadly look. Her shoulders were pushed back and the ears on top of her head were perked up, proud. Weiss always somehow forgot how tall Blake actually was. The man took half a step back.

“Leave. Now.”

Her tone was level but Weiss could still hear the silent threat beneath it. The man must've too because he huffed giving a small “whatever” before turning and pushing his way through the crowd.

“Asshole.” Blake muttered, turning back to her teammates. Her hand automatically reached for Yang, as if she didn't even notice she was doing it. Similarly, Yang reached her hand out as well, grasping Blake's forearm lightly, like it was second nature for them to seek each other's comfort.

What shocked Weiss though, was that Yang had just as easily slug her other arm around Weiss’ shoulders and how Blake had yet to pull her arm away from her hip.

“Come on let's grab a table.” Yang said, leading them both away from the small crowd that had formed around them.

_____________

They found a booth in the back, one that circled all the way around making the sitting area a ‘U’ shape. Plenty of room for three people to have their own space. So, Weiss couldn't for the life of her understand why they were all squished together on one side. She wasn't necessarily complaining. Blake was in the seat closest to the opening of the table, her thighs were pressed up against Weiss’ and her heart jumped every time Blake would lean in close to talk. Yang was on her other side, arm over the back of the booth, her fingers lightly brushing against Blakes shoulder. Weiss could feel Yang's heat radiating off her, making her want to lean back into her chest, tuck her face into her neck. Weiss felt something in her chest. Something that was definitely toeing over the friendship line.

Weiss was having a hard time concentrating to say the least. She can hear her teammates having a conversation, the music less loud being further away. She thinks they’re talking about Ironwood? She should probably focus.

“I don't know Blake, it just feels wrong, hiding everything.” Yang's voice. “Atlas should be prepared, even if that means telling the people in charge.”

Weiss heard Blake sigh. “Could we not talk about this now?”

Yang raised her hands in fake surrender. “Alright, alright.” She lifted her glass of water to her mouth, finishing off the rest.

Blake must've noticed they were all running low because she gets up and gathers their glasses. “I’ll go get us some more water.”

Weiss nodded in response. For a few minutes they sit there quietly, listening to the subtle thump of the music. Weiss feels a hand on her thigh, warm and gentle, but also firm.

“You ok there, princess?”

Weiss jumped when she felt Yang's breath ghost over the shell of her ear. Yang's arm had moved from the top of the seat and now rested on her shoulders pulling her in. Weiss wanted to lean in, to tilt her head to give Yang access to her neck. Yang's proximity and this realization made her breath hitch. She wasn't looking at Yang's face but she was pretty sure she was smirking.

“I’m perfectly fine. Just.. thinking.”

“Oh yea? About what?” Yang's low tone made her look over. Her eyes were somewhat lidded as she scanned Weiss’ face. When Weiss swallowed, she watched Yang's eyes track the movement down her throat. Weiss felt like she was on fire.

Weiss exhaled as she tried to come up with a response.

“I..”

“Hey guys! Whats up?”

Weiss jerked back from Yang and whipped around. Neon and Flint had made their way over to the table, inviting themselves to sit on the other side of the booth.

“Hey you two.” Yang said casually, as if her and Weiss hadn’t been close to making out a few seconds ago. “Where's Kobalt and Ivori?”

Flint responded, “Went home, they have a mission tomorrow they need to prepare for.” Yang hummed in response.

Neon leaned over the table resting on her elbows as she looked at Yang. “How's your night going firecracker?” She asked with a wink.

Weiss bristled. Yang let out a chuckle. “It's been interesting for sure.”

Weiss looked up when Blake silently returned, setting down their glasses on the table. She gave only a slight “hey guys” to Flint and Neon before settling back into Weiss’ side, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“Well with you, things are always interesting I'm sure.” Neon said, with a flirtatious wave of her hand. Weiss had to suppress an eye roll. Really?

“Something wrong kitty-cat?” Apparently, Blake didn't bother suppressing the urge.

It was Blake’s turn to bristle. “No, nothing.” Blake’s body language told her otherwise.

Neon's eyes scanned the three of them, a small, mischievous smile made its way into her face.

“What do you say firecracker, wanna hit the dance floor?”

Somehow, Weiss felt all three of them tense up. No. Absolutely not. Weiss thought. But who was she to tell Yang otherwise? She wasn't her girlfriend. Weiss sat back, leaning into Yang's arm, bitterly glaring at the girl across the table, but didn’t say anything. Weiss snuck a glance at Blake. She had a neutral expression on her face but her ears were pinned back defensively.

(Blakes ears always gave up what she was feeling, even if her face never did. Weiss would think later about how pretty she looks without her bow.)

Before anyone snapped though, Yang spoke up to answer Neon's question.

“Actually, the three of us were just about to go dance. Maybe next time?” Yang added the last part out of courtesy.

Neon however, didn't seem too hurt by this statement at all as she sat back in the booth. She scanned over the three with a small smirk on her face.

“Don't worry, I get it.”

“Get what?” Weiss heard her voice go up an octave and tried not to cringe.

Neon just casually shrugged, looking pointedly at the places the three girls were linked together. Blakes body leaning into Weiss, Weiss tucked closely into the crook of Yang's side, Yang's arm hanging loosely over both of their shoulders, completing the circle.

Neon threw them all a wink then turned to her partner. “Come on Flynt, I don't think we’re invited on their date.”

Flynt chucked and tipped his hat to the other three. “Have a great night ladies. Get out there, that dance floor is waiting for you.”

The three girls watched the two walk away in shock. It was a few minutes before one of them spoke again.

“So,” Blake cleared her throat, “you guys wanna go dance?”

“Yes.”

“Oh absolutely.”

_________________

It started out light and fun. The three girls moving around happily with each other to the music, giggling and poking fun. Yang was a surprisingly great dancer. She was showing off her moves while Blake laughed behind her hand and Weiss pretended to be annoyed.

That changed when the music did. Going from upbeat and poppy, to low and sultry with a heavy base line. They were already standing close to one another. Weiss felt the atmosphere around them change instantly.

Blake, to Weiss’ surprise, made the first move. Stepping in close and pulling Weiss in by the hips so they were facing each other. Weiss instinctively raised her hands to Blakes shoulders, palms resting on her collarbones.

Blake bent over a bit and Weiss had to tilt her head back so she could keep eye contact. She felt Blakes heart hammering against her palm. She slid her hands up and around Blakes neck, locking them together.

She was so focused on the girl in front of her that she didn't notice Yang coming up from behind. She gasped when Yang's warm front pressed against her. She yanked Weiss’ hips back into hers, Blake being dragged forward in the process too, until they were all melded together.

Yang started to move, swaying slowly behind her, her hands encouraging Weiss to follow her movements. Weiss felt heat in her chest, filling her up then poring lower. Her hands tightened around Blakes neck and pulled her impossibly closer until their legs slotted together.

Weiss’ senses were overloaded as two sets of hands were on her body. Yangs’ stayed grounded on her hips, controlling how she moved. They squeezed and rubbed, but stayed there, radiating heat. She was having a more difficult time keeping track of Blakes hands. Currently, one was on her rib cage and the other was sliding up, up, until long fingers held her chin. When they tightened and forced her head up, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, too overwhelmed. She could feel Blakes breath on her face.

When she felt a hand leave her hip she forced her eyes open. She watched with lidded eyes as Yang reached over her to grip the back of Blakes neck over her own hands. Even if she couldn't see Yang, she could tell the two girls were giving each other heated eyes, if Blakes jaw-slacked look was any indication.

Unable to stop herself, Weiss leaned forward and ran her tongue along Blakes exposed collar bone. She heard the Faunus gasp loudly.

“Hey.” Yang's voice was hoarse. “As much as I want this to continue, we’re drawing a crowd.”

That seemed to lift the haze over Weiss’ eyes momentarily. She looked around. There was a fair amount of people staring at the three. Weiss did her best to shoot them all an irritated look.

Blake took a half step back, but didn’t pull away completely. Weiss watched with interest as she and Yang had a silent conversation over her shoulder. Apparently they came to a non-verbal agreement and when Blake looked back to Weiss, Yang was already pulling away.

“Lets go outside?”

Weiss couldn't use her words just yet, so instead, she wrapped her hand around Blakes wrist, the one that was now cupping her face, and nodded.

Yang grabbed Blakes hand leading them away. Blake put her other arm around Weiss and pulled her close to her side as they walked outside, ignoring all the eyes that followed them.

____________

The cold Atlas air felt great on Weiss’ skin. She hadn't realized how sweaty the three of them got in there. They were in the back alley behind the dance club, she could still hear the muffled music coming from the closed door. The only light shining from the broken moon above them, dimly lighting the alleyway.

The three were only outside for a few seconds before Weiss was pushed lightly into the brick wall behind her. She looked up to see Blake, arms placed on either side of her head on the wall. She watched the other girl swallow heavily as her eyes were locked onto Weiss’ lips.

“What do you think kitten?” Yang wrapped both of her arms around Blakes middle and rested her chin on her shoulder.

Blake tilted her head a bit, never looking away from Weiss’ face. Even with the cold air around them, Weiss still felt hot under the pair's heated gaze.

Finally finding her voice, Weiss started to speak up.

“I…” She took a breath and tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to take it so far, I just..” Weiss felt too many emotions bubble up inside her. Most notably, longing.

She grabbed the lapels of Blakes coat and pulled her in. “I want you.” She found she couldn't speak above a whisper. The raw emotion in her voice making it hard to breath. She looked over Blakes shoulder to look at Yang. “Both of you.”

Weiss’ chest felt tight from being so open, vulnerable. She didn't plan for this to take an emotional turn. She felt tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

It was Yang that bridged the gap this time, reaching out with her robotic arm to cup Weiss’ face gently, running her thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

“We want you too.” Though Yang spoke it quietly, Weiss heard it as a scream. Relief washed over her in waves. She took a shaky breath and more tears spilled from her eyes.

Blake gently pulled her in to rest Weiss’ head in the crook of her neck as she cried softly. Weiss gripped the back of Blakes coat and reached out blindly with her other hand to do the same to Yangs, fisting the front of her shirt and pulling her closer, until they were all huddled together in an embrace.

They stayed there until Weiss’ tears had dried and her white-knuckled grip on the two loosened. She pulled away and looked them both in the eyes, noticing that both sets were watery.

“Okay.” She said softly as Yang pressed her forehead into hers. “Okay.”

They all jumped when suddenly the alarms blared through the streets of Mantel. Lights turning red around them, signaling trouble.

“Shit,” Blake said through gritted teeth, looking around, “Grimm.”

They all looked back at one another, taking a moment to cherish the last couple seconds they had.

Weiss straightened up and nodded at the two. “Okay.” Determination heavy in her voice. They all turned to run from the alley, loading their weapons in the process.

Later, they would have time, just for them. Right now, it was time to do their jobs.

#bees schnees week #bees schnees #blake x weiss x yang #bees schnees prompt #rwby #rwby v7 #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #neon katt #flynt coal #team fnki #mine #my writing #bumbley #monochrome rwby #freezerburn

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trainingblog238 · 3 years

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Cynthia Freivogel

Cynthia Miller Freivogel received a BA in musicology at Yale University and an MM in violin performance at the San Francisco Conservatory. In addition to being the leader and concertmaster of the Baroque Chamber Orchestra of Colorado, Ms. Freivogel plays with Brandywine Baroque in Wilmington, Delaware, and is a tenured member of Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra, based in the San Francisco Bay Area of California. She is a founding member and second violinist of the Novello Quartet, which is dedicated to the performance of the string quartets of Haydn and his contemporaries on period instruments. Ms. Freivogel frequently performs at Bay Area early-music venues with ensembles such as Magnificat, Voices of Music and American Bach Soloists, and on concert series at Old First, San Francisco Early Music Society and MusicSources. Ms. Freivogel spends summers playing violin in the Colorado Music Festival Orchestra in Boulder. She also played with the Tanglewood Music Center Fellowship Orchestra, San Luis Obispo Mozart Festival, the State Orchestra of Sao Paulo, Brazil, Apollo’s Fire, Portland Baroque, American Russian Young Artist’s Orchestra, and Amerus chamber players. Ms. Freivogel studied principally with Camilla Wicks and Marylou Speaker Churchill, and is a dedicated and certified Suzuki teacher.

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2 records for Cynthia Freivogel. Find Cynthia Freivogel's phone number, address, and email on Spokeo, the leading online directory for contact information. Listen to music by Brandywine Baroque: Cynthia Freivogel, Karen Flint and Douglas McNames on Apple Music. Find top songs and albums by Brandywine Baroque: Cynthia Freivogel, Karen Flint and Douglas McNames including Sonata in D major, Op. 1: Grave-Allegro-Adagio, Sonata in D major, Op. 1: Allegro and more.

Known Locations: Jamaica Plain MA, 02130, Berkeley CA 94705, Oakland CA 94610 Possible Relatives: Benjamin W Freivogel, Bill Hein Freivogel, Elizabeth D Freivogel Cynthia L Freyvogel, age 44, Pittsburgh, PA 15243 View Full Report.

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Alberto Miguélez Rouco, Arttu Kataja, Collegium Vocale Gent, Combattimento Consort, Cynthia Miller Freivogel, Daniel Johannsen, Florian Just, Johannes Kammler, Klaas Stok, Maarten Engeltjes, Marc Pantus, Netherlands Bach Society, Philippe Herreweghe, Pieter Dirksen, Renate Arends, Rene Jacobs, Robin Johannsen, St. John Passion, St. Matthew Passion, Thomas Hobbs

A little over 22 years ago, my husband and I moved from the Netherlands to California. My husband is a Jazz bass player in his spare time, so for him the music was another aspect to “living in Paradise.” There are many more Jazz performances and festivals here than in Europe, and there are lots of people here to do jam sessions with.

Cynthia Freivogel Telemann

But for me it was a different story. I found a wonderful voice teacher and a good choir to sing in, but I missed the strong Dutch tradition of hearing and performing Bach’s Passions in the weeks before Easter. I used to have my biggest bouts of homesickness around that time of year. The heartache was softened only by it being my most favorite blooming season in California: the few weeks when two native trees, the purple Western Redbud (Cercis Occidentalis) and the blue-violet wild lilac (Ceanothus) bloom at the same time. The photos here don’t really capture how beautiful those colors are and how stunning it is when you see them together in the landscape, but it is something that makes me very happy.

Last year I didn’t have any homesickness, because all Passions in the Netherlands or Belgium I could have attended or participated in were canceled, so I didn’t feel I was missing anything. And while the world locked down, at the same time it became more accessible to me, because performances were now being moved to the internet. This meant I could watch the dress rehearsal of Herreweghe’s St. John Passion without the 11-hour plane ride or the struggle with jet lag. (That video registration is still available: find it here – scroll a bit down to where it says “Passions 2020”).

This year there were so many online St. Matthew or St. John Passion offerings from the Netherlands it was almost overwhelming. I didn’t have time to listen to all of them before writing this today, because most of the videos didn’t go live until yesterday, Good Friday. So I’ll just focus on a few that stood out to me.

Cynthia Freivogel Wikipedia

Find the English translations of the St. John Passion here; the St. Matthew Passion here.

Cynthia Freivogel Vivaldi Four

In the category “most interactive creation” I would like to mention the St. John Passion by Zing als vanZelf. An initiative of online singing instructor Bert van de Wetering, this organization invited thousands of singers to record themselves singing the chorales at home in the weeks leading up to Good Friday. They then recorded a performance with professional soloists singing the arias and the choruses with the excellent Combattimento Consort (Cynthia Miller Freivogel, concertmaster) as the orchestra, this all under the direction of Pieter Dirksen. Then they edited all this together into a video where you see the performance from a pretty church in a small town in the Netherlands, but every time there is a chorale you see the “choir” of individual volunteer singers pieced together on the screen. A really clever and touching solution. Watch it here. If you enjoy it, please consider making a donation, similar to what you would have paid if you would have attended this in person. The link for that is right there under the video.

For readers who understand Dutch and would like to learn more about the St. Matthew Passion, I highly recommend the video program from the organization that every year brings performances of this masterpiece to the beautiful Bergkerk in the city of Deventer. This year they recorded four arias from the St. Matthew Passion, in the order they appear in the second half of the work: “Erbarme dich” (sung by countertenor Maarten Engeltjes), “Aus Liebe” (sung by soprano Renate Arends), “Komm, süßes Kreuz” (sung by bass Florian Just), and “Mache dich, mein Herze, rein” (sung by bass Marc Pantus). What I liked best about this video is the conversations director Klaas Stok has with each soloist before they sing their aria. Through these conversations, I gained a lot of new insights into the meaning of the different arias. I especially loved what Klaas Stok had to say about the architecture of the piece, the role each aria plays in the overall structure, and how different movements are connected. Of all the talks, I particularly enjoyed bass Marc Pantus’ take on “Mache dich, mein Herze, rein,” the final aria on the program. You can watch this until April 14. Just click here. But please note, it is all in Dutch. Again, a link to donate is right there under the video.

Last but not least, the most impressive performance I listened to yesterday and today: The St. John Passion (1725 version) by the Netherlands Bach Society under the direction of René Jacobs. This was shown on Dutch television on Good Friday, so if you don’t understand Dutch, you’ll have to sit through a confusing excerpt from the St. Matthew Passion and a few ads at first, but then you can forward the video 14 minutes, to skip the pre-concert interview with René Jacobs. Soloists are Daniel Johannsen, tenor (Evangelist); Johannes Kammler, bass (Christ); Robin Johannsen, soprano; Alberto Miguélez Rouco, countertenor; Thomas Hobbs, tenor; and Arttu Kataja, bass. There is so much fluidity and phrasing in the orchestra, such a good blend in the choir, as well as excellent enunciation from the choir, it is extraordinary. All the choral movements are extremely transparent, I enjoyed that very much. Jacobs takes some risks with considerably slower tempi in the chorales than is usual in the Historical Performance Practice world, stretching out the pauses in the Evangelist’s recitatives, and taking long fermatas on ending notes, but it is never old-fashioned or too Romantic. It makes for a very engaging, one of a kind performance. All soloists are wonderful, but I would like to give a shout-out to the two tenors: Daniel Johannsen for being an excellent Evangelist, and Thomas Hobbs for his fabulous “Zerschmettert mich” aria (one of the arias that is not in the better known, 1724 version). Donate to the Netherlands Bach Society here.

Cynthia Freivogel Youtube

If you don’t feel like listening to any Passion music anymore, please find my three Easter blog posts from previous years through the following links:

Cynthia Freivogel Voices Of Music

Wieneke Gorter, April 3, 2021.

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cptdorkery · 4 years

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Getting to know CptDorkery

@mae-the-bass-clarinetist, @spocks-lyre, @pointy-eared-hobgoblins, and other mutuals (who are unfortunately lost in the dark depths of my notes, with no record of whether or not they used excessive hyphens in their usernames) have tagged me in various "getting to know you" posts.

I don't normally play. I politely thank them for the honor and revel in the comfort of my Tumblr anonymity. Today though, due to blatant procrastination of more important activities and the desire to be known and loved (albeit anonymously), I will answer a few questions I've been asked (or wish I'd been asked).

1) How did you become so awesome?

A careful blend of hard work and sheer apathy.

2) Are you as attractive in real life as you are in your avatar?

No one is as attractive as Worf.

3) How long have you been on Tumblr?

I started my first Tumblr blog around 2010. I posted badly drawn stick-figure comics where my characters told dad jokes. I had not at that time heard the phrase "dad jokes." I've been Cptdorkery since 2017.

4) How did you choose your user name?

The second part is probably obvious. As for the second part... who doesn't want to be the captain?

5) Favorite Star Trek episode?

Yesterday's Enterprise. I'm a sucker for time travel and alternate timelines.

6) Favorite Star Trek series?

I've watched and rewatched every series at one time or another (except for TAS), and I enjoy all of them. My absolute gun-to-my-head favorite, though, is TNG. One of these days I'll get around to watching the animated series.

7) Are you active in any other fandoms?

Active? No. Do I enjoy other media besides Star Trek? Absolutely. I geeked out over the Mandalorian and binge watched it at a friend's house, loved the Good Omens series even more than the book, own every Terry Pratchett book and the entire Eric Flint 1632/Ring of Fire saga, have been waiting for years for the next installment of the Harry Dresden series... and so forth. I am an equal opportunity consumer of the geeky.

Star Trek is my first love, though, and is my main (only) focus here.

8) How do you tie your shoelaces?

Over, over, under, through. Loop, around, through, pull. No bunny ears for me.

9) How many followers do you have?

Honestly, more than I can keep track of. Which is nice, because who doesn't like to be liked? But I sometimes miss the intimacy of when I had ten mutuals and I knew all their (user)names.

10) Gender/age/orientation/race/relationship status/politics?

Star Trek.

#tag game #star trek #harry dresden #1632 #star wars #good omens #worf #general geekiness #how to tie shoelaces

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hanalwayssolo · 5 years

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Somewhere Between The Music and Lyrics: Ch. 1

A/N: I’m terribly off my own schedule, as usual! So. This Prompto one-shot became a monster I did not expect so I’m splitting it into two chapters. Honestly, among the chocobros, Prompto’s the first one that came to mind when I wanted to do a band AU of sorts—because I’ve heard Robbie Daymond sing on one of their LAVA streams and it is glorious. Anyway! Song featured for this first half is Gavin DeGraw’s We Belong Together.

Tagging pals! @raspberryandechinacea @noboomoon@emmydots @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @hanatsuki89 @valkyrieofardyn @animakupo @lazarustrashpit @blindedstarlight @mp938368 @boo-dangy

Prompto had been busily sifting through The Lost Boys’ unanswered emails at the back of their tour bus when he hears his song.

Except, it’s not quite his��song.

He recognizes the lyrics in an instant—and he of all people would know of course, since he had written those words as a cry for help for his hopelessly romantic soul. But the song that aches through the speakers holds none of Ignis’s electric riffs, the swell of Gladio’s drums, the steady hum of Noctis’s bass, let alone his own vocals. The one he hears is his music stripped to its rawest, the words made vulnerable by a melancholic leak of a lone acoustic guitar and an exquisitely soulful voice.

We belong together Like the open seas and shores Wedded by the planet force We’ve all been spoken for

Prompto scrambles to the front lounge to find Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis huddling by the booth over a laptop set on the table, their eyes glued to the screen in wild wonder.

Curiously, Prompto eyes them—still grinning wide in awe—and asks, “Are you guys hearing what I’m hearing now? Am I dreaming? What is happening?”

Noctis snorts a laugh. He swivels the laptop to face Prompto. “You might want to check this out, my friend.”

Prompto excitedly moves closer. Immediately, he sees the video accompanying the song entitled “we belong together (cover) by my amazingly talented roommate!!!” posted by username MasterPelnaK. He barely even notices how this video has been raking almost five hundred thousand views and likes in the last twenty-four hours as his attention zeroes in on the stranger sitting on a bean bag, equipped with nothing but the guitar and that voice.

What good is a life With no one to share The light of the moon The honour of a swear

Gods. The tone and vibrato is so on point it sends shivers down his spine. But then, Prompto begins to wonder why this person is not even looking directly at the camera. Were they even aware that they were being recorded? It seems all too candid given the angle, as if the camera had just been discreetly set up on a low-lying table. Not to mention the very personal space in the background, too: a well-lit room of white walls, a cozy looking sofa, an impressive shelf of books and vinyl records tucked between potted fiddle leaf figs. Somewhere out of sight, hushed whispers could still be heard. Was this only recorded from a mobile phone?

Anyway, not that any of these things mattered. Prompto has rarely come across other artists covering their songs, and when he does, each one he cherishes dearly. But this one—this one, for heaven’s sake—has moved him the way the winds bend the trees to its will, a tiny flint that sparks a flame. He didn’t realize that the words he had written could be afforded such lyrical heft, that the music he had created had been a delicate and honest confessional that could fit someone else’s voice so beautifully, like finding a piece of a puzzle he never knew he had been missing.

Where have you been all my life?

So Prompto watches it again. And then a couple times more. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis gather to watch him curiously. Prompto briefly skims through the comments section and is thoroughly relieved to read overwhelmingly positive feedback. He didn’t even mind when he comes across a comment that says “this is even better than the original!” because fuck it, he shares the same sentiment.

And before Prompto could even scroll back up to replay the video, Gladio drags the laptop away from him.

Prompto sneers in protest. “Dude. Not cool at all—”

“What’s not cool is obsessing over a cover of your own fucking song,” Gladio says in jest.

“Hey, it’s a fucking cool cover, okay!” Prompto scoffs and flicks his eyes on the ceiling—almost rolls them, but not quite so. “And please, big guy. I’m not obsessing. I’m too chill to be obsessed, thank you very much.”

“I clearly remember you saying to the crowd earlier how you’re never the ‘chill’ person of sort, and my word. How quickly the tables have turned,” Ignis casually remarks as he takes a sip from his mug of coffee.

Prompto’s mouth falls open. He did say that onstage during their performance back at Leiden Fest. His immediate regret is letting Ignis triumphantly take it against him.

Meanwhile, Noctis lifts a suspicious eyebrow at Ignis. “Iggy, are you sure you’re not drinking tea? ‘Cause you just poured a scalding one right there.”

“I’m impressed—that’s a good one.” Gladio gives Noctis and Ignis a thundering high-five. They burst out in a gale of laughter.

“You guys are enjoying this, huh.” Prompto grabs a pillow and smashes it at Noctis, who only yelps in between fits of laughter. He hurls one at Gladio, too, but the big guy has reflexes of a jungle cat, so he only ends up catching the thing. Ignis, however, Prompto hesitates at the last second when he shoots him a menacing glance. “Okay, I’m not even going to bother attacking you, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you will kill me if you spill that coffee.”

Ignis gives him a smile and a nod, and returns to his drink.

“Also,” Noctis says, “now that I think about it, you’re giving off that same look and vibe the first time you were crushing on Cindy.”

“What? I do not—okay, okay—” Prompto groans, jabbing a finger at Noctis— “that is different. Cindy is our road manager, so I’m choosing not to cross the line. While this…” Prompto pauses and takes a deep breath. “This is also different. A very surreal and magical kind of different.”

“Now I’d say someone’s been bitten by a lovebug.” Ignis leans back on his seat, arms crossed, regarding Prompto with a pleasant smile.

Gladio laughs. “Tell me about it.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you guys,” Prompto says in a miserable groan.

But frankly, Prompto is far from miserable having Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis as friends. He considers himself quite fortunate to have found brothers in them, painfully annoying as they may be from time to time. Besides, it was through their music that helped them bond and weather the toughest of their adolescent years: they were no stranger to teenage angst, to riotous episodes of rebellion, to whirlwind romances and crazy ex-lovers, and to the turbulent journey that led them to be the band that they are today. Naming themselves The Lost Boys seemed to be a fitting tribute to the misadventures of their youth: Always lost and never found.

And yet, regardless of their highs and lows, the four of them have always had each other’s back. And that has not changed even now that they are in their thirties.

Perhaps Prompto is being overly sentimental at this point, but that’s just how it is.

Or maybe, he really has been bitten by a lovebug.

“In any case—“ Noctis firmly clasps Prompto’s shoulder— “this amazing cover of your song is breaking the Internet as we speak.”

“Well, yeah.” Prompto shrugs, though he cannot hide it in from his face how pleased he truly is. “Though I do wonder who this MasterPelnaK is.”

“Definitely not the person in the video, that’s for sure,” says Gladio.

“If I may?” Ignis reaches for the laptop from Gladio. “Let’s see here—“ the boys squeeze themselves into the seat so they could also get a look as Ignis hovers around the profile page— “this Pelna Khara happens to be a video game blogger—“

“It’s a vlogger, Iggy—get in with the times,” Prompto corrects cheerfully.

Ignis exhales an exasperated sigh. He returns his attention back on screen. “Apparently, this vlogger streams gameplays and commentaries—“

“Really?” Noctis interrupts out of a sudden rush of excitement. “Do you think he has one for Assassin's Creed—“

Prompto nudges Noctis by the arm. “Dude.”

“Right. Sorry,” Noctis says sheepishly. “Carry on.”

“Anyway.” Ignis is unfazed by the interruption as he goes on: “It appears that this is the first time this Pelna fellow uploaded this sort of material.”

“Oh and look, he’s very popular, too,” Noctis says. “Ten million subscribers? What the fuck—“

“Wouldn’t be surprised now that the video got so many hits overnight,” Gladio notes pensively. “And check it out—“ he points at the bio section— “he lives in the city. Says his hub is somewhere in Downtown Insomnia.”

As if struck by the same spectacular idea, Noctis and Gladio exchange knowing glances. Ignis, of course, is quick to catch on.

It takes a while for Prompto to understand what’s going on, and when he finally does, he shoots them all a dubious gaze. His friends are up to something, and the glint in their eyes could only spell mischief.

“Guys—” Prompto starts as calmly as he could, hands raised in an almost surrender— “whatever you guys are thinking, we don’t need to do this—”

“We don’t need to—but you do,” Gladio claps Prompto’s back. “We got ya, my guy.”

“And before you all intend to push through with this,” Ignis says, “would anyone be so kind as to ask Cindy if we can change our course and make a quick pitstop. And let Iris know, too, since… well. She’s our handler, after all.”

Gladio rises out of the booth. “On it,” he says as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“And allow me to send a message to this fella,” Noctis adds promptly, already typing away in front of the laptop.

Prompto sinks helplessly to the seat beside Noctis. “Why are we all friends again?” he says loudly, and the meaningful response he receives is the sound of their amused laughter.

“I want that video deleted right now.”

Pelna winces at the sharpness of your words. Crowe, on the other hand, looks like she is ready to give you everything the world has to offer. In the years you have spent sharing a flat with them, this must be the first time you have ever seen them this apologetic. Which is only fair because this is the first time they have done something quite outrageous to upset you. Yes, sure—Crowe and Pelna might think you’re overreacting right now, but you’re no video blogger or Internet celebrity like the both of them are, so that’s entirely beside the point. As they sit side by side cowering on the couch and you standing over them—hands on waist, jaws clenched, eyes seething in fury—it’s as if they have committed a crime against all of humanity that cannot be forgiven.

Except the casualty of the said crime is you, and only you.

“Look, you have every right to be mad at me for my negligence—” Pelna nervously raises a hand, trying to look at you dead in the eye but flinches as if you are burning bright like the sun— “but I fucking swear, it wasn’t me who uploaded the thing! Okay, I admit—I’ve been tempted to record you for some time now ‘cause in case you don’t know this yet, you’re a really good singer. But trust me on this! I really have no idea how that video got out, I promise!”

“And it’s certainly not me who recorded you!” Crowe adds in their defense. “My alibi may not be perfect but I was already drunk that time! And even if I’m sober, I wouldn’t dare barge in Pelna’s room and tinker with his toys. Gods know what I’d find in there—”

“Only the good stuff, my dude,” Pelna says, suddenly pleased with himself. “Nothing but the good stuff—”

“How about we focus on the issue at hand, yes?” You pace back and forth, and in dire resignation, you finally flop on the armchair next to the couch. Fucking hell. It’s too early in the morning to have a head-splitting migraine. You wish this had been from a hangover or some other sickness, but it’s insane how this is all caused by seeing a video of yourself on the fucking Internet with no recollection of recording it at all. Sleuthing to find out the events that unfolded the night of Pelna’s birthday only seemed to make throbbing in your head even worse. As far as you could remember, most of the folks had been severely battered—which was why you had the guts to pull out your guitar and sing the blues away as everyone dozed off in their drunken stupor. But in your tight-knit circle of friends, if there’s anyone who could impressively hold their liquor the same way they could hold a knife, it could only be...

“Wait a fucking second.” Crowe narrow her eyes at Pelna, and then at you. She fishes out the phone in her pocket and hurriedly dials a number. With her phone on loudspeaker, the line rings once, twice, thrice. And then, a voice.

“What’s up, Crowe—”

“Nyx.” Crowe’s tone is already accusing that you didn’t even bother butting in. “You’re the one who uploaded the video on Pelna’s channel, weren’t you?”

A suspicious pause. Then, Nyx laughs. “Maybe.”

Pelna grabs the phone from Crowe. “I swear I will kill you when I see you, man! How dare you dishonour me—” as a knee-jerk reaction to his response, you kick Pelna in the shin that he yelps when he says— “and how dare you dishonour our friend!”

On the other line, Nyx is still laughing. “Wait, on a scale of one to ten, how angry is —”

“Not the fucking point!” Pelna snaps back. “How did you even manage to get into my account, you piece of beautiful shit?”

“Well, maybe next time you should make sure you always logout, alright?”

“Well, fuck you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Nyx says breezily. Even in a phone call, his voice never fails to carry his air of arrogance. “But hey, kidding aside. You all said that we should help each other in living to the best of our potential, right? And our friend right there with you, Pelna—yes, you, I know you’re listening, too—do you even realize how fucking talented you are? You have been serenading us all our life, and this is the least I could do to share how proud I am to have a gifted friend like you. I’m sorry if it’s a jackass move, but I know if I asked for your permission, that thing would never see the light of day.”

The four of you bask in a sudden uneasy silence. You should not have been touched by Nyx’s words, but here you are, almost moved into tears. Despite his occasional display of pride and vanity, Nyx is one of the kindest human beings you have ever had the pleasure to meet. He may not seem like it, but he’s the very definition of a jerk with a heart of gold. You just hope he could completely forego being the jerk and stick with his golden heart instead.

This time, you take the phone from Pelna and say, “Treat the three of us for dinner for the next two weeks, and I’ll decide if I should forgive you.”

“Consider it done. I’m a man of my word,” Nyx says, and the sound of his relief is evident in his voice. “Now... am I out of trouble?”

“Certainly not, you dickhead. Later.”

You drop from the call and hand the phone back to Crowe. The two of them gape at you as if you have finally turned out to be the monster they have always known you to be.

“Wow. You really did that,” Crowe says, looking very impressed. “You actually shut Nyx up and made him agree to pay for two weeks worth of dinner. Aren’t you a delight.”

You manage a small smile. Pelna heaves one loud sigh of relief. “Now that we’ve finally cleared things up, are you sure you want me to take the video down? You’re really getting a lot of hype from my channel, I mean we’re close to half a million views! And—“

The shrieking sound of the doorbell cuts your conversation in an abrupt halt.

“Wait, I’ll get that,” Crowe gets up and rushes toward the door.

“So? Whaddaya say?” Pelna urges fervently. He is still invested on persuading you, and you can see it in his kind eyes. “It’s one video, I know… but you gotta believe us, you really are a fucking talent—”

“Pel, it’s not that. It’s...” You get on your feet, circling around the coffee table, as if it would help you articulate all the reasons behind your sense of trepidation. Honestly, you appreciate having Pelna and Crowe as friends for their selfless outpour of love and support for your craft. But how can you explain to them that sometimes, your own music terrifies you? Is there any logical explanation behind being scared of your own voice? So here you are, standing in front of Pelna, falling extremely inadequate to gather the words out of your mouth. Instead, you say, “I’m… just worried. What if The Lost Boys had seen it? And what if they’d hate me for it?”

Pelna offers you a weird, strained look. “Well, about that—”

“I don’t think there should be anything to worry about. We love it!”

The bell-like bounce of the voice that spoke clearly does not belong to Pelna nor Crowe, nor does it fit in the ordinariness of the space of your shared apartment.

You turn—hesitantly, too carefully—to see three of The Lost Boys standing by the doorway with Crowe. And standing in front of you is their frontman, Prompto, smilingly extending his hand to reach yours.

This horribly sunny day is getting stranger and stranger, and it’s not even noon yet.

Pleasantries have been made—and a little bit of internally slapping yourself in the face to make sure this is all happening—and now, it has all come to this. Leaning from the bar counter, you watch as the four infuriatingly beautiful men of The Lost Boys struggle to squeeze themselves in the poor thing you all call a sofa. Across from them is Crowe, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, analyzing each of them from head to toe with the sole purpose of intimidating the shit out them. Which is no surprise, of course; Crowe rarely gets star-struck in the presence of famous people, and even if she does, she hides it effortlessly well. Meanwhile, Pelna is playing a staring game with the band’s drummer—and frighteningly the tallest and largest in the group—that you cannot help but wonder if Pelna has some sort of a death wish that he needs to get fulfilled right this instant.

“So, let me get this straight—” Crowe says, crossing her arms— “and I hope you don’t mind if we’re being cautious ‘cause, well, we don’t want our roommate to get dragged into something sketchy, but… you came all the way down here to this shabby neighbourhood after you saw the cover of your song, and now you want to collaborate on a song? Is that it?”

Prompto is the one who willingly answers with a vigorous nod. He seems unfazed with Crowe’s intention of scaring them off. He glances your way before he says, “And there’s no need to worry about the contract and all that legal stuff, ‘cause we’ll have that arranged. Right, Ignis?”

“Indeed,” says Ignis. “I know this arrangement seems completely out of sorts, seeing as we came here on such a short notice, but I can assure you that we offer nothing but the best of intentions.”

“Really?” you say as you move from behind the counter to sit together with Crowe. “But you’re all men. And you know what’s more dangerous than men? Celebrity men.” No one said a word. A moment’s silence lingers as you study each of their faces, and then: “So how do I make sure that I could trust you with… this? That this isn’t some publicity stunt you’re trying to pull—”

“It’s not like that at all,” Prompto says firmly. “And if you have any doubts with your safety, well, I’m sorry if our friend Gladio looks so menacing for our image—”

“Seriously?” Gladio scoffs, turning to Prompto. “You really hurt my feelings.”

You try to stifle your laughter. Somehow, now that you look closely at the four of them, they remind you of Nyx, Libertus, and Pelna.

And suddenly, you feel bad for putting them in a hot seat like this.

As The Lost Boys begin to discuss amongst themselves with what you assume to be a stream of their inside jokes, Pelna sidles up to you while Crowe loops her arm around yours. Whispering, she says, “I think you should do it.”

Pelna discreetly adds, “And if they ever get you into trouble, Nyx is a lawyer so he should have your back. I already texted him and he’s ready to keep an eye out for you.”

You let out a rueful sigh. You have to admit, it’s hard to stay mad at Crowe and Pelna and Nyx when this is the way they exhibit their unwavering friendship: with a flourish of genuine love and steadfast support.

Empowered by your friends’ confidence, you clear your throat and you turn your attention to the four men sitting in front of you. You fix your eyes at Prompto, and you ask, “So. When do we start this thing?”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #ffxv fanfiction #fanfic #prompto argentum #older!prompto argentum #prompto x reader #older!prompto x reader #my writing

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 6 years

Text

Give You The World, pt. 2

Charles Vane x Reader

A/N: Commission series for @squishysib . This will be a 5 part series! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Summary: Black Sails AU: You are the girlfriend of James Flint, charmstic yet ruthless leader of a local gang. Being the ‘apple’ of Flint’s eye, you are number one on the target list for opposing gang leader, Charles Vane. He wants to get a hold of Flint’s territory and you are the answer to all his problems - little does he know, Flint has wandering eyes and you are the last thing he’s worried about.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5-Final

You weren’t entirely sure where you were, because the van Charles had his men use to transport you to another undisclosed location had its windows blacked out, but you weren’t tied up anymore - for that, you were thankful. They did take your cellular phone and the gun you had on you, but besides that, you were still in one piece.

For now.

“Where are you taking me,” you asked the man in the passenger seat, knowing fully well he was not going to say.

“We’ll be there soon, just relax,” he grunted, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.

Sighing, you leaned back into the seat and just waited, hoping to get to wherever the hell you were supposed to be fast. You just wanted to get it over with, whether you’d be killed or used as ransom, a pawn in Flint and Vane’s chess game. Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine what your boyfriend was doing and who he was doing it with, and you realized you did not care anymore. It was exhausting loving someone who didn’t love you back, or at least not as much as you needed. You were good to him, all those years of standing at his side, guiding him in the ways of criminal activity. Letting him take lead, so the others would respect him - it was all you and after he was done, he pushed you aside like a second thought.

“We’re here, put these on.”

You looked over to the man in the passenger seat and caught the blindfold he tossed at you.

“Put them on or I will.”

Knowing the game and how it was played, you took a deep breath and slipped it on.

…

It was an apartment, a well decorated and clearly expensive apartment loft - you were taken from the van into what you assumed was an elevator and when the doors slid open, you could smell food cooking somewhere.

“Go on, Vane’s waiting for you.”

You glanced over your shoulder to the man, who motioned for you get on.

Tossing him the blindfold from earlier, you crept toward the smell of food, stopping when you heard the front door close. Glancing around, you saw that it was still night time, the large windows looked out at the dark city and you realized not much time had passed since they took you from the bar. Regaining your composure with a deep breath, you walked quietly to the kitchen and saw Charles standing at the stove.

“Glad to see you’ve arrived safely,” he said, without turning around.

“Why am I here?”

Charles finally whipped around, a kitchen towel thrown across his shoulder and a soft smirk on his face. “You don’t like it? Figured it would be more pleasant than where we normally keep our detainees.”

“And where is that?”

He chuckled and waved you over. “Dead. Lucky for you, I use to admire your father. He was a brilliant man. You want a beer? Or wine?”

“Water, please,” you answered quietly, making your way to the kitchen island. Watching as he walked over to the fridge, you sat on a stool and thanked him when he placed a bottle in front of you. His eyes lingered on yours until he turned back to the stove. Uncapping the bottle, you took a long drink and sighed, wiping the wet corners of your mouth. “You knew my dad…”

“Of him,” Charles corrected, giving you a smile as he turned back to the stove. “He was a great man, I envy his empire. I hope to one day be as powerful as he was.”

“So, kidnapping your hero’s daughter is part of the plan?”

You knew it wasn’t smart to be sassy, considering your position, but the years spent with Flint had taught you that it was the only way to get his attention; often making him so angry he had no other choice, but to pay attention to you.

“I like you,” Charles answered over his shoulder, chuckling in amusement. “I can see why Flint kept you around.”

“He more than kept me around,” you hissed back, anger that another person saw it that way. “I’m his girl, his...”

“His eyes and ears, the one that whispers the orders.”

Looking up at the man, your heart steadied at Vane’s words. He had it right on the dot and it felt good to have someone see all you do, did to help Flint rise to where he stood now. Apart of you wanted to relish in that fact, but you stayed cold stone, not letting it show on your face. You weren’t going to give your kidnapper a reason to kill you.

“Flint knows what he’s doing, I am not the one to thank. He’s a smart man,” you explained dryly, lifting the bottle off the counter once again. “He’s going to come get me.”

Charles Vane, a man broody and attractive in what seemed all the wrong ways, laughed; his shoulders buckling up and down as his back seemed to mock you. Stirring in your seat, you watched as he grabbed a plate off the counter next to him and started to serve food onto it. When he tuned to walk over to you, his hard features softened as he placed the plate in front of it. He had made some steaks and some greens, it looked good, you had to admit.

“Looks good,” you hummed out, following his movements as he went to retrieve utensils for you. “I guess we all are a little human.”

“I suppose,” he shrugged, holding out the knife and fork.

Staring at the potential weapons he was offering up, you took them slowly and looked at him. “Handing over a knife to the enemy, you think that’s a good idea?”

His gaze fell onto you and for a moment, it seemed like the air had been sucked out of the room and you forgot how that felt. Forgot how it could feel to be near someone new, someone powerful, someone that was like Flint, but nothing like him all at once.

His lips pulled into a smile and he chuckled. “You're not my enemy, pet.”

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#charles vane x reader #charles vane #black sails #charles van fic

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bassplunder · 6 years

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Character Info Sheet

NAME OF YOUR MUSE: Duster

ALIAS(ES ) NICKNAMES: Lucky

ONE PICTURE YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR MUSE: uhhh theres been a lot!! i used to have a whole folder of 200+ images but ive had to re-find a lot of them. a personal favorite is this one, by 雀茶 on pixiv. ive been a sucker for their design of duster for eons.

TWO HEADCANONS FOR YOUR MUSE THAT YOU’VE NEVER TOLD ANYONE :

1. telling yume doesnt count here Duster’s mother was named Ellie. For obvious reasons, Duster doesn’t remember her death, or her name, or what she looked like. He does, however, look a lot more like her than he does his father.

2. His favorite season is fall. Not only is his birthday in October, but he prefers chilly weather and enjoys autumn colors. Plus, and not to brag or anything, but he looks pretty good in a scarf.

THREE THINGS YOUR CHARACTER LIKES DOING IN THEIR FREE TIME :

1. Everyone knows that Duster likes to go on walks. He probably knows the town layout about as well as Mapson, given that he’s explored it over and over in the dead of night ever since he was a child.

2. He still has an interest in music. Post-game, the rest of the DCMC brought him his bass and he still practices whenever he gets the urge. He knows it drives Wess nuts, particularly when he’s trying to learn a new song, but he Does Not Care.

3. He works out surprisingly often, mostly out of habit.

SEVEN PEOPLE THAT YOUR CHARACTER LIKES / LOVES :

(Not in order lmao)

1. Lucas & Claus (im cheating here but shut up) 2. Kumatora 3. Flint 4. OJ 5. Baccio 6. Magic 7. Shimmy

(i’d put wess but duster’s still got some Feelings about that whole situation that he’s working through)

TWO THINGS YOUR CHARACTER REGRETS :

1. Sometimes he thinks that if he had woken up right as the storm had started, he might have been able to help Flint find his wife and kids just that bit sooner. He doesn’t ever mention it, but it eats at him occasionally. (He wasn’t around when Issac told Flint that he had heard screaming in the forest long before.)

2. Duster was rather quiet and maybe even a tad cold towards Kumatora in the beginning, due to his father seeming to favor her. He’s apologized for it a fair number of times, and though she most likely shrugged it off, he feels awful about acting and thinking that way after getting to know her better, considering that she did defend him against Wess’s criticisms.

TWO PHOBIAS YOUR CHARACTER HAS :

1. Heights and elevators, mentioned here. Given the option, he will take the stairs. Or make use of his staples.

2. MUSHROOMS. He refuses to eat even ones he used to eat, point blank. He knows, logically, that they won’t do anything, but just the idea makes him gag, and seeing others eat them tends to make him horribly sick to his stomach.

TAGGED BY : @allhailkingp (<3)

TAGGING: @pk-lovely @maskedl0ve @ask-cara-hart @anearthstruckalien and any of you that have eaten ice cream within the past three days have fun!!!

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superhorndogband · 5 years

Text

Interview with Robex

Från: [email protected] <[email protected]>

Skickat: den 10 maj 2019 21:50

Till: [email protected]

Ämne: Re:

Have any of you played in other bands?

Mark: Stoopid Poodles, Jigglyroom, Pound Drive, Face Of Violence, Pure Spun Evil, Politikill

Carl: Stoopid Poodles, Jigglyroom

Ant: Free Will, Jones'n, Politikill, Wizards Fool

Gregg: Politikill, Face Of Violence, Crotch, Prologic, All Gods Aside

How is it that you started playing music?

We've all had an interest in music from an early age and wanted to play.

What are your names? / Who plays what? /

Carl Spaniola-Bass/Vocals

Gregg Brown-Lead Vocals

Mark Hawkins-guitar

Ant Howell-Drums

How old are you?

We're all in our mid forties.

Have you had other previous members?

In this band, no.

Did you make music even when you were young?

Yes. Since teenage years.

Where are you from?

Flint, Michigan, USA.

What year did the band form?

2017

What's your style of genre?

Funkadelic Punkrock Hardcore

What inspires you?

Playing in front of a crowd and the reaction you get from that. Good music and beer.

How often and where do you rehearse?

As often as possible at our own space the Hawk's Nest.

How have you developed since you started with the music?

We have conformed to who we are playing with and have progressed together.

Do you have other interests of work outside the band?

Real jobs. Some musicians have those. Not that it's an interest but it keeps us able to play music and buy things.

Are you looking for a booking agency, and what are your thoughts around that?

We're fine on our own. Why pay someone for doing something we've been doing for years on our own.

Are you looking for a label, and what are your thoughts around that?

What musician doesn't want to get paid to play music. Money talks!

What made you decide to make this music?

Carl:It's what comes out when I pick up the guitar. I didn't choose it - it chose me.

Gregg: It was asking for it!

Mark: I wanted to do something extremely different and outside the norm. Carl made me do it.

What are your songs about?

Everything from party of life to dying on your birthday. There is no boundaries. Everything to nothing.

Who does the composing and writes the lyrics?

It's a group effort. We all contribute.

Do you start with the music or the lyrics?

It's different every song.

Do you compose in a certain enviroment?

Mostly at the Hawk's Nest. But Carl's head usually brings it here. He's always writing eveywhere.

Have you done any covers live?

Yes we do Too Many Puppies by Primus, Three Little Pigs by Green Jello, and Where Are You Tonight from Hee Haw. We're primarily an originals only band.

What language do you sing in?

American.

What are the least and most people to attend one of your gigs?

2-500ish. Usually 50-100, sometimes closer to 2.

What ages are most of your concert attendants?

Barely legal to old as dirt.

Do you always play the same songs live, or do you vary?

We just cut an album so we try to play all those songs live. We have quite a few more and the list changes depending on our set length.

Do you have a regular place you play live often?

The Corunna Road Bar may be getting sick of us. They let us play anything and we cannot show up without Gordie the one stringed hockey stick whamola. Also the fifth member of the band.

What was your first gig like?

Our first gig stemmed from a three song set on an open jam night, then we were asked to come back and play for an hour. We were unsure how our style/genre would come across but it went over pretty well.

What was your latest gig?

At our "home" spot Corunna Road Bar, a small 150ish capacity venue, standing room only and a ridiculous amount of applause.

Have you had to cancel a gig?

What is this cancel you speak of?

Where have you played live this year?

Mostly small bars and clubs with the occasional large venue...well be opening for D.R.I. September 14th at the Token Lounge in Detroit. Hope to see you all there!

Where do you plan to gig the coming year?

Carl: Book everything!

Mark: I hate you Carl! Seriously though, bigger and better venues, hopefully tagging on with some national acts.

When did you start to sell merchandise, and what do you have for sale?

2019 was the year for that. We have CDs, shirts koozies, stickers.....and Carl.

Where can people buy your merchandise?

At the shows and on Bandcamp. You can also download the digital album on almost every platform.

What do you think about people downloading music instead of buying records now a days?

Whatever it takes to get it out there. Of course we would love for you to purchase a CD or download digitally from us. People will always aquire music one way or another but true fans will buy it.

How do you think the music industry have changed because of this?

It is hard to get a gold or platinum record to hang on your wall. Actual record sales will never be the same no matter how they adjust for digital sales.

Carl: There will be no more Quincy Jones hanging record breaking albums because Michael Jackson got them up there the old fashioned way.

Gregg: There is a lot more merchandise available these days.

What do you think of my work?

We're not sure who is working here haha. But from what we've read, you do a thorough job with the bands you've interviewed!

How do you think and know that this interview will help you in the music business?

There's no way to know and only one way to find out but our hopes are high!

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bixeapage · 6 years

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Audio Physic Step Plus Loudspeaker Review

The Audio Physic Step plus is designed to apply high-end speaker technology to a desktop speaker that might be used in a smaller room.

The Audio Physic Step plus combines this well-respected companies’ knowledge of building larger speakers, to offer a transducer designed for a smaller room with not just high-end aspirations, but a true high-end speaker that will satisfy discriminating users. To make it even more compelling, the Step plus has high end sound from a desktop sized loudspeaker.

As suggested by the manufacturer, I placed a pair of Audio Physic Step plus speakers in two of my smaller rooms for testing; a bedroom and my small home theater which resides in a converted guest bedroom. The results were superb, with rock solid imaging, sparkling high frequencies, and solid mid bass. They don’t produce the deepest bass notes, but they are very clean down to 40-50 hz as determined by test tones and a sound level meter.

Highlights

Audio Physic Step Plus Loudspeaker

A new HHCT III Tweeter

Modified crossover from the previous version of the Step speaker

Newly designed inner cabinet with open cell ceramic bracing

The Audio Physic Step plus is easy to drive with amps from 10 to 120 watts

Won’t please fans of the deepest bass but easily augmented with a subwoofer

Introduction

Imported and distributed by Vana Ltd. of Lake Grove, NY, Audio Physic is a well-regarded German manufacturer of high quality speakers. The Cardeas 30 tower speaker is the pinnacle of the company’s current line-up and it receives consistently glowing reviews. Audio Physic uses the technology from its best speakers trickled down to the Audio Physic Step plus, with the same high frequency driver designed for the Cardeas 30.

I’ve often read about Audio Physic speakers, so I was happy to try these diminutive speakers in my listening environment.

Audio Physic wants to fill a niche so that an astute and demanding listener doesn’t have to give up high-end sound in rooms where their main music system would be impractical. I’ve experienced this first hand, where I could not find a high-quality speaker for my bedroom, where I do a lot of listening. I have a bay window with a lovely view of the Arizona mountains in my bedroom, but for years I had an old pair of mediocre speakers being driven by an old receiver. The Audio Physic Step plus speakers are perfect for such a situation, and I was anxious to compare these speakers to what I eventually bought for the bedroom, KEF LS 50 speakers driven by a Denon receiver. The KEFs are almost half the price of the Audio Physic speakers, yet the KEFs are also highly regarded and I’ve been quite pleased with them in that space.

Audio Physic Loudspeaker Specifications

Height:

320 mm/12.6”

Width:

175 mm/6.9”

Weight:

5.5 kg/ 12.13 lbs

Suggested amplifier power:

10-120 watts

Impedance:

8 Ohms

Frequency Range 50 hz:

40 kHz

Woofer-midrange driver:

5.9” diameter

US MSRP:

$2,599 – $2,799 (depending on finish)

Company:

Audio Physic

Secrets Tags:

Audio Physic, Step plus, HHCT III Tweeter, Loudspeaker, stand mounted speakers, Loudspeaker review 2018

Design

The speakers arrived in a well-designed and protected box, in fact it was one of the best shipping containers I have seen.

Inside is a comprehensive user manual in a protective plastic folder. The manual is especially good in dealing with setup options, and warning users away from bookshelf placement which would adversely change the sound. Audio Physics also includes a level to make sure the speakers are vertical in your home setup.

The review samples I’ve received have a glossy black finish. They are also available in white, cherry, ebony and walnut.

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The speakers are small by high-end standards at just over a foot high, and slightly under 7 inches wide. They are hefty speakers, due to the weight of the speaker magnets and the robust internal bracing. Knock on the side of the speaker and there are no resonances to be heard.

The Step plus speakers are a two-way design. The speaker also features what Audio Physic calls Active Cone Damping. Active Cone Damping (ACD) was first developed and implemented by Audio Physic to avoid resonances associated with metal cones. A silicone/rubber ring is mounted on the outer ring of the cone where it directly applies pressure on the cone. This is claimed to be a highly effective means to eliminating the otherwise unavoidable ringing and therefore removes the metallic sound.

The Audio Physic Step plus speakers are designed for stand mounting, the speakers tip slightly back, a design decision to balance out phase differences between the low/mid and high range drivers in this two-way design. Mounted flush to the front panel, the drivers were exposed in the review sample I was sent. The retail version of the speakers does come with a grille cloth. Some people prefer to have no grilles on the speakers to provide a slightly more coherent sound field. Other innovations are provided by the re-engineered crossover with its painstakingly selected components.

The interior wiring, as well as the high-quality WBT control terminal, mechanically decoupled from the cabinet, are also part of the tonal coordination. While these are all small incremental design steps, the creators of these speakers believe that little decision add up to better sound output.

On the rear of each speaker is a bass port, as well as speaker terminals that support banana connectors or spade lugs. The connectors are high quality and when using spade lug connections, a torque indicator responds with a click to let you know things are tightened correctly. It’s a nice design touch, and something I wish all speakers included. For my tests I used the pre-installed banana plugs. With Audio Physic encouraging me to place the speakers on stands for the best sound, I auditioned them on stands I had available. In my bedroom however, I placed the speakers on a long low cabinet.

Audio Physic recommends the speakers be at least 20 inches from a rear wall, and I complied with those suggestions in both rooms. On stands though, I moved the speakers even further from the rear wall, almost 2 feet. I also toed-in each speaker slightly as advised in the manual, and listened to the speakers at ear height.

I used a Denon receiver in the bedroom, and drove them with an Emotiva amp in my small home theater. The Denon offers 75 watts with two channels driven while the Emotiva offers more than 80 watts per channel, so plenty of power for these speakers.

In Use

So, did all the small details and build quality make a difference in actually listening to music? In a word, yes. These speakers sounded almost magical in both my listening rooms.

The first thing I noticed was the imaging. The speakers were never a point source, and simply created a realistic horizontal image of an orchestra, rock group, or jazz ensemble. It was quite uncanny. I explored bringing the speakers out to different distances from the wall in both rooms. As I moved the speakers from 20 inches to 2 feet the soundstage added depth, but even at the lesser distance, the speakers created a very lifelike stereo presentation.

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I experimented with moving my listening chair around a bit, and when I moved closer to the speakers, less than 3 feet, I was surprised how well the image held up. Many speakers just fail at creating a coherent audio image when you get too close. I also noted that I could drift off the center line quite a bit, and still hear a balanced presentation. In fact, sitting almost directly in front of the right speaker, I could still hear a solid stereo image with no beaming of highs from the right channel. These are marks of an excellent speaker and how it interacts with my rooms.

Think of sitting far to the left or right at a live concert and the instruments still sound well balanced. That’s what is happening here with the Audio Physic Step plus speakers.

As I previously noted, the Step plus speakers are not the speakers for bass heads. In both rooms, I added a small subwoofer, a Klipsch wireless sub, (an R10SWi) that I use with my KEF LS50s, and it gave me a deeper bass than the speakers can create on their own. The Klipsch is not a high-end sub, but it’s a good match for my bedroom-based KEF’s. Audio Physic also makes a very high-quality subwoofer, but it wasn’t part of the offered review package. Having said all that, I thought the Step plus speakers sounded fine on most music without augmenting the bass. In fact, they sounded a great deal more than fine. This is particularly noteworthy with such a small woofer-midrange of 5.9 inches in diameter. There was solid output to 50 hz, and audible output to about 40 hz.

My listening menu consisted of these discs worth mentioning:

Joe Hisaishi “Budokan:”

Joe Hisaishi in Budokan: This is a Blu-ray disc of a 2008 concert celebrating the composer’s film music in Tokyo. While the disc can provide a 5.1 mix, I listened to the 2.0 stereo mix on the Step plus speakers. This is just a great live concert. I think you must import the disk, but it is region free. There’s more than a thousand people in the orchestra and chorus, and the sound is breathtaking. The Audio Physic speakers capably negotiated the native drums and high strings, always providing a stable image. Massed choruses are a real test for a speaker too, and individual voices never got lost or distorted.

Flint Juventino Beppe “Remote Galaxy:”

Remote Galaxy: A lovely Blu-ray audio disc by composer Flint Juventino Beppe. He makes a successful run at creating a musical journey through time and space. The music on the disc works the ends of the frequency spectrum, and the Step plus speakers render this unique music beautifully.

Keith Jarrett “Creation”

Keith Jarrett: Creation. More lovely music from the Audio Physic Step plus speakers. I often use piano music because it is notoriously hard to get right. We all know what piano sounds like, but many speakers make a hash of the piano, sounding “electronic” and not acoustic (assuming the recording is of an acoustic piano!). I cranked up the Audio Physic Step plus speakers to a room filling volume, and the piano sounded like it was in the room with me. A very convincing presentation.

Daft Punk “Tron: Legacy”

Tron Legacy: Another great disc for testing speakers with mostly electronic music. The track ‘Disk Wars’ is a particularly good test of the low end. Here the speakers did their best with my subwoofer adding to the deepest octaves of bass.

Conclusions

THE AUDIO PHYSIC STEP PLUS is high-cost, I’d consider it high value – the speaker offers accurate sound and exact imaging. For many, the money is well spent.

Likes

Very revealing speaker

Extremely high construction quality

Extended highs and clean midrange

Visually attractive

Comprehensive setup documentation

Would Like To See

Subwoofer package offered

The Audio Physic Step plus speakers can’t be confused with bookshelf speakers for a bedroom or small listening room. They are high-end speakers in a very compact size that outperform many speakers in their size class. I love my KEF LS50 speakers, but these Step plus speakers are incrementally better at creating a real soundstage, if they get the proper placement in terms of height and distance from a wall. I didn’t go with speaker stands in my bedroom, but the speakers sounded great at ear level on a credenza that also supports a TV.

I think many listeners will be fine with the speakers as they sound out of the box. Some will prefer some bass augmentation. I believe the speakers were more to my taste with a subwoofer, but you likely won’t have to break the bank to find a subwoofer that integrates well with the Audio Physic Step plus speakers. I thought my 10” powered Klipsch did just fine.

Audio Physic does offer a larger version of this speaker with a bass driver called the Temp plus. It should have similar sound but reach more deeply into the low end.

These are not inexpensive speakers by any means, selling for $ 2799.00, but the quality of construction and components are high end, not just high-end pretense. Their pedigree from Audio Physic means a great deal of hard work and artistry went into their design, and it was reflected every time I listened to them.

I was sad to pack them up and see them go. If you have the kind of smaller room for which these speakers were designed, they are certainly worthy of serious consideration.

The post Audio Physic Step Plus Loudspeaker Review appeared first on HomeTheaterHifi.com.

Audio Physic Step Plus Loudspeaker Review syndicated from http://onetwothreemovies.blogspot.com/

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