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greyeyedmonster-18 · 10 months

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(found this in the archives/dust of my computer desktop and figured why not post it to tumblr. please enjoy this lily and sirius friendship dribble or whatever this is.)

A Good Nights Sleep

It was late November and the entirety of the Gryffindor house had celebrated a Quidditch win the night before, resulting in nothing other than a mess in the common room and a hoard of students nursing headaches and exhaustion. Lily Evans didn’t know who brought the alcohol (a seventh year perhaps), and she didn’t know what possessed her to drink it alongside Marlene (who was on a table by the end of the night), but she had, and she struggled to open her eyes the next morning.

She was tempted to go back to sleep, the curtains around the four poster bed shut entirely blocking out the rest of the world, and it was impossibly warm even with the cool early winter temperatures. Her head nestled against the pillows, making to grab the comforter and roll over to get some more sleep, but instead of a blanket, she grabbed an arm.

Instead of rolling over into another pillow, there was the unmistakable presence of another person in bed with her. Her eyes sprang open, no longer exhausted, her brain scrambling to remember what the hell happened last night.

You were drunk

Mary was in the room with someone.

You wanted to go sleep

Remus! You asked Remus for his bed!

Just until Mary finished and then you would go back to your room.

Lily tried to sit up, her brain connecting the dots and realizing this definitely wasn’t Remus. There was too much weight, too much hair. She kept wiggling in hopes of waking up the sleeping form of Sirius Black on top of her that was the culprit of the warmth she had woken up to. Any closer to Lily and they would’ve been a single person, his leg thrown across her hips, his face near her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her like an octopus. Sirius stirred briefly, not opening his eyes.

“Stop moving, McKinnon,” he mumbled, “Go back to sleep--”

“Not McKinnon,” hissed Lily, “Get off me, Black!” Sirius made a noise of confusion before sitting up rapidly, running a hand over his face and hair at the voice that was definitely not Marlene.

“Oh god, ah, shit,” Sirius said, his long black curls rumpled from the sleep. Lily would’ve found this less composed and less aloof version of Sirius endearing had it not been for the fact he had just been on top of her moments before. He moved off her rapidly, a rush of cold air hitting Lily’s body, Sirius staring wide-eyed at her trying to make sense of the situation.

Lily sat up as well, her hand reaching to her own hair that she was certain was a messy, red waves falling onto her shoulders chaotically, “What the hell are you--”

“Shhh,” Sirius gave her a look, his eyes widening as he put his hand over her mouth.

Lily was tempted to bite him, but she saw Sirius reach for his wand, casting a silencing charm around the bed before removing his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” he responded back, “This is my bed!”

“This is Remus’ bed.”

“No, it’s not,” Sirius said looking at her in utter confusion, “This is my bed, which is why I’m in it.”

“What do you mean it’s not Remus’ bed!”

“You’re not very bright in the morning, are you Evans?” asked Sirius, tiredly pressing the heel of one of his hands into his eyes before reaching to his wrist for a hair elastic to tie his hair back.

“All I know is that I was drunk and came up here because Mary was in my dorm doing merlin knows what and I thought I would be able to just nap in Remus’ bed until I was sober and figured it out but now I’m in here, with you, and thank god we’re both fully clothed.” Lily was still in the jeans and sweater she wore the night before, Sirius in a long-sleeve shirt and--, “Or I guess as clothed as you possibly can be.”

Sirius looked down at himself, closing his eyes and muttering something to himself in another language Lily didn’t understand as he realized he was in a pair of boxers, “I was drunk too,” he said as a means of explanation.

“I should hope so,” Lily said, her fingers tangling in her hair as she attempted to finger comb it, “Do you have an extra hair tie?” she asked,

“What?”

“I would really like to leave the dorm not looking like a bird built a home in my hair overnight,” she looked at him.

“Oh, right…” Sirius looked around briefly before sighing, taking his own hair down once again and handing it to Lily, “Just take that one, I’ll find another.”

“So what’s your excuse?”

“It’s my bed!”

“When I got in it, it was empty. So you saw me sleeping and just thought ``oh why don’t I go have a lie in with Lily?” she asked, “Really?”

“I was drunk and I didn’t pay much attention to who it was. Honestly, I thought it was Marlene, I dunno, I...didn’t look too hard.”

“Charming, Black.” Lily rolled her eyes. Sirius, for all the qualities that Lily found redeemable, had a reputation for being a bit of a...well, a bit of a...tease and a flirt and everything that followed that subsequently. According to Marlene and Remus, it wasn’t uncommon for Sirius to have guest’s in his bed, nor for him to be a guest in someone else's. It wasn’t uncommon to see Sirius separate from his friends after dinner to chat up a girl from Ravenclaw or a bloke from Hufflepuff. And now Lily was just another girl that Sirius Black had in his bed.

To her surprise though, Sirius actually looked slightly embarrassed by his explanation, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, “I was drunk and...I just saw big hair and obviously I passed out, so it’s...fine.”

“Yeah, this is fine,” Lily said dryly, gesturing to the two of them in Sirius’ bed. He was now farther away, his hair tossed to one side and the blanket on his bed pulled over his body as he sat with his knees drawn up, leaning against one of the posts.

“You didn’t see the bed just over there with all the bloody books?”

“I mean, maybe! This one was the neatest! Drunk Lily logically said it had to be Remus’.”

Sirius gave her a quiet lopsided grin, “Oh, Evans…” Sirius shook his head, “I’ll let you continue to think that. Be blinded by Moony’s good-boy image, prefect and all--”

“Exactly! Prefect’s make their beds.”

“Mhmm,” Sirius nodded sarcastically.

“Shove off. So I was wrong,” she said, “Now can you get me out of here?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Are we in agreement that this never happened?”

“What never happened?”

“Good girl,” he winked at her before moving to step outside his four poster, and Lily let out a breath. She wasn’t sure which part of the scenario was the most mortifying.

The fact that she had been drunk enough to crawl into someone else’s bed.

The fact that she thought Sirius’ bed was Remus’.

The fact that she had spent an entire night next to and sleeping with Sirius Black

The fact that she had woken up feeling warm and comfortable under Sirius’ bodyweight. As much as she wanted to get out and get back to her dorm, she was also tempted to lie back down in clean, soft sheets, still warm from where they had both been lying all night.

The fact that, shock factor aside, Lily didn’t actually mind waking up next to Sirius who gave her his hair tie off his own head and thought to put a silencing charm around the bed. She didn’t mind the arms that were around her, and hadn’t woken up at all throughout the night to realize her mistake. The fact that cuddling with Sirius Black had given her a great night's sleep.

The curtain to the four poster opened, and Sirius was standing there, in a pair of sweatpants and his hair tied back now.

“James is gone already, the other two are sleeping,” he whispered and inclined his head, towards the doorway. Lily stood up out of bed, already missing the heat from the covers, and stepped onto the hardwood, not even bothering to look for her shoes. Sirius opened the dormitory door for her

She pointed her finger up at him, “Never happened.” Sirius gave her an amused nod and Lily turned back around, rushing down the staircase to make it back to her dormitory before too much of Gryffindor started stirring.

After spending the remainder of Sunday after breakfast trying to restore the common room and wake-up just enough to do some studying for the day, Lily hardly bumped into Sirius at all. Aside from the table where he was more content to make conversation with their housemates and flirt with a Ravenclaw girl sitting behind him. Indeed they were both quite content to pretend it never happened at all, even if Lily hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sirius’ arms around her.

Sirius was a big bloke. He was tall and broad and had a loud laugh and took up physical and emotional space wherever he went. And not in a bad way. Though Lily would be one of the first to admit Sirius was arrogant as all hell and impulsive and lost just as many points for Gryffindor as he won them, she couldn’t deny that he made everyone feel at home.

She had seen him a few times talking with first years late at night in the common room, offering quiet words of comfort.

He didn’t blink when he loaned out his textbooks to younger years (the textbooks that Lily knew Sirius read front and back and made notes in the margins was, even if he pretended he didn’t). As much as space as Sirius took up, he tried his hardest to make room for everyone else to be the loudest and the brightest.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lily that this translated to the bedroom as well. Even though they had only literally slept together, given the size difference between her and Sirius, his body on hers should’ve been noticeable.

She should’ve felt crushed underneath the weight of someone twice her size but she didn’t. Lily hated sharing a bed. She liked having space for herself and loathed the nights her roommates insisted on sleepover’s in one bed. There had even been a night or two where she had left the company of a boy to go back to her own dorm to sleep alone. Lily Evans didn’t cuddle. She was not interested in the holding or someone else's body in her space while she slept.

Unless that someone was Sirius Black, which was annoying in about a thousand ways.

Monday morning, just after breakfast, she exited the Great Hall with her friends only to have someone grab her elbow from behind, pulling her backwards.

“What--”

“Got a second, Evans?” asked Sirius, tilting his head and grinning at her. He had pulled his dark hair back with a headband that day.

“We have class,” she looked up at him, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, “Also, you don’t need to man-handle me to get my attention.”

“So much more fun though,” Sirius grinned, and Lily rolled her eyes.

“Class?”

“I know, I’ll be quick,” he said leaning against the wall and ducking his head down to catch her gaze better, “I...I know we said that it never happened but...I actually...thought it was bad form.”

“Which bit?”

“Oh, the...whole thing, really,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets. It was rare that Sirius dropped his cool exterior. It was rare that anyone, let alone Lily got to see Sirius for who he perhaps really was and not just who his reputation made him out to be, and who Sirius preferred the world to see. “I was drunk and I really did think you were McKinnon, that aside, I...don’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage or anything like that. I know it was probably alarming for you to...wake up with...me on top of you and uh then I was in my underwear, but I swear I didn’t..and...I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re apologizing?”

“Trying to.”

“You don’t...need to do that, Sirius,” she said looking up at him.

“But I do because I…” Sirius paused, “respect you and that...wasn’t exactly respectful yesterday.”

“Thank you,” Lily smiled softly, “But it’s really okay. I promise you.”

“And also that James is my best friend and this very much violated our code of ethics even if it was just...sleeping.”

“Of course.”

“And I...also don’t much like you thinking I just...launch myself into bed with anyone who happens to be in my bed already. I was drunk and I--”

“I thought you didn’t care what people thought.”

“I don’t. I care what you think.”

Lily was struck by the honesty of that comment, looking away from Sirius to a point on the wall, “It’s okay. I’m not...upset or mad. I know you weren’t taking advantage or anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I...may have thrown a bigger fit than warranted,” she admitted and Sirius laughed, “Appreciate the apology though.”

“Alright?” he asked, catching her gaze again so Lily was forced to look into grey eyes that she had frequently heard about from whispers in the castle. Lily also couldn’t deny that Sirius Black was very good-looking, which just added insult to injury

“Alright.” she nodded, “Question for you?”

“Sure, Evans.”

“The people you do...share beds with...do they stay the night? Like that?”

“More or less.” Sirius admitted

“Because it’s no wonder there's a trail of broken hearts after you in these halls. Sleep with people like that, giving them the wrong idea… honestly Sirius, I can’t even be mad because I slept so bloody well.”

Sirius laughed, the two of them beginning to walk to class after Sirius pushed off the wall to stand up again, “I’m sure you’re a good shag, but if you’re going around letting people wake up next to you when you’re up in their entire business...that really seals the deal.”

“You slept well?”

“I did! It was horrifying. I can’t remember the last time I slept that well,” she told him and Sirius grinned, “Is that what you do? Do you like to cuddle?” she teased, raising her eyebrows playfully. But Sirius just shrugged, “You do?”

“It’s like….a reflex or something, I dunno. Sometimes James and I have sleepover’s and I do the same thing--”

“Of course you do.”

“Mostly I...just really hate sleeping alone. And...I think part of me thinks that I...can make people stay like that. If...I just lay on top of them, they can’t leave...and I don’t know, maybe they don’t want to go that way either.”

Lily turned her head slowly towards Sirius, “Did you just give me a real answer?”

“I did.”

“That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“You probably also weren’t expecting an apology.”

“No, I wasn’t….” she said in disbelief.

“There you are then,” he smiled at her slightly and Lily tried to prevent her face from giving her away the flurry of emotions inside her head.

She knew Sirius. She had seen the darker parts of him before, late at night in the common room when everyone else was sleeping, especially before school breaks. She had seen the way he sat up straight in class sometimes, paying such close attention that Lily knew it was to avoid talking with his friends.

She knew that past the facade of SIRIUS BLACK was just...Sirius. Who she liked a great deal. Who made her laugh, and who had thrown a punch at a Slytherin before he was even able to get the first syllable of mudblood out.

But even understanding all of that. She never understood the appeal, nor had the desire to date him. Sirius was just Sirius. Annoying, frustrating, unexpectedly generous and soft all wrapped together.

“I’m...going to need you to say something obnoxious so I can keep myself from falling in love with you, I think,” she said finally, and Sirius laughed, “I’m being serious. You’ll find me in that bed of yours tonight and I won’t even blame it on alcohol. Because how you’re talking and looking at me and...I slept well. So say something annoying to remind me that it’s you and I’ve absolutely no interest.”

Sirius laughed, running his hand through his hair as he thought, “Oh! How’d you do on the last transfiguration exam?”

“98. What about you?”

“105.”

“Are you kidding me, Black?” she asked, scowling and Sirius laughed. Lily made a noise of frustration briefly, remembering that Sirius Black was one of her biggest academic competitors across all subjects. Sirius had told her years ago it was mostly to keep his parent’s off his back. They had no control over the sorting, and if he didn’t want them involved, he needed to do well academically. She had thought that once Sirius was no longer living with them that his grades would start leveling out, but it hadn’t been the case. Sirius had received 10 OWL’s and still annoyed Lily to no end.

“How’d you do that?”

“Extra credit.”

“You said you didn’t answer extra credit questions because you didn’t need the credits!”

“Yeah, that was before McGonagoogles gave me detention for not applying myself in her class and lectured me for the duration of the detention.”

“That was your detention? A lecture?”

“While I alphabetized her bookshelf,” Sirius groused, “So, now I answer extra credit…”

“Unbelievable.” she said, shaking her head as they reached the door to history of magic. “Annoying. That definitely did it.”

“Good.” Sirius grinned and they separated, Sirius going to take his spot next to James on the bench and Lily by Marlene.

“What’d Black want?” she asked

“Don’t worry about it.”

Later that night, Lily and Remus had gone to the library, textbooks and chocolate in front of them as they waded through Herbology together. Remus had his palm on his forehead, bent over his notes, his eyes moving to Lily briefly.

“I think Sirius had a girl in our dorm a few nights ago…” he muttered, and Lily’s eyes went wide. Remus had been pining over Sirius since the latter part of fifth year. They had grown closer over the summer, since Sirius was no longer with his parents and spent the entirety of the summer break with James. It didn’t help matters that Sirius was well-liked and Remus was often witness to flirtations and hook-ups on the other boys behalf.

“What makes you say that?”

“His bed curtains were closed all the way,” he said, “He never closes them all the way unless he has company. I know Saturday was a party, but I don’t remember...seeing him with anyone.”

“Maybe he...just wanted privacy after drinking.”

“Sure.” Remus shrugged, “It’s just...nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s just...frustrating. It’s like his new self-destructive bender is shagging anything that moves--it’s like he came out of the closet just so he could have more options-- and he doesn’t even have the decency to do it, not in our dorm? With all of us there?”

“Remus,”

“I know, I know, I can’t be frustrated when I’m not exactly doing anything but…” Remus shook his head.

“It was me,” Lily said, looking up at the ceiling of the library.

“What?”

“I was the girl in Sirius’ bed on Saturday,” she told him, and Remus stared back, immediately going to pack his things up, “No, no, no, not like that. You remember I asked to sleep in your bed?”

“Vaguely?”

“I thought Sirius’ was yours because it was clean and made-up,” she said, “And I was drunk and it looked the most inviting. I didn’t get a chance to ask him but...does Sirius make his bed? Really?”

Remus smiled wryly, “He does. Every single day. He used to make all of ours, somedays still does, but we’ve...collectively had an intervention. Especially after he organized all of our sock drawers.”

“A...bed...making intervention,” Lily whispered, looking at Remus with mixture of horror and curiosity, “I have so many questions.”

“He cleans,” Remus offered, “Just...he cleans.” Lily couldn’t help but notice the way Remus ducked his head, concealing a smile. Concealing just how endearing he found this particular quality of Sirius’ to be.

“Anyway,” she said, “You...don’t need to get annoyed because it was just me. And uh, I don’t want to date him. And we just slept. I was drunk, he was drunk, fully clothed.”

“Oh…well, alright. Sorry about that. I should’ve told you which one was mine.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, “He...apologized to me after it all happened, and kind of explained it. And...honestly, Remus? I have never been held like that in my life, I was this close--” Lily held up her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart, “to being repeat offender and--”

“What? I’m not hearing this.”

“Imagine being me now! I was conflicted all Sunday.”

“If this is a joke--”

“It’s not,” Lily laughed, putting her hand under her chin and staring at her best friend, “I wish I was kidding. But...I dunno, Remus. You spend more time with him and know him better than most people I would guess and...probably get to see what I saw yesterday and today when he apologized more often...like Sirius Black without the smoke and mirrors?”

Remus stilled and looked at her, “You can’t date him, that is a--”

“Oh, no, no. Absolutely not,” she clarified, “I suppose….I get it now. Why you would.”

“You...get it?”

“Besides the obvious...physical reasons,” Lily told him, “I get it now. I get...why you fancy him, why you want to date him, why...anything. I get it. Didn’t always before but...now.”

“Because he held you? God, this is my nightmare,” Remus grabbed Lily’s wand on the desk lightly, “Do me a favor and just shove this into my temple.”

Lily laughed, “I’m not going to do that. I just...think that...if I figured out all of this in, what? Twenty four hours? It’s not going to be long before someone else does and that someone else might have way less self-control and stubborn pride than me.”

“Are you suggesting I get drunk and sleep in his bed?”

“I mean...when was the last time you had a good night's sleep?”

#sirius black #lily evans #remus lupin #hes there too #i very much love a sirius and lily friendship #and i was pleased to find this #i think its like two years old at this point

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akwolfgrl · 3 months

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Can't just love me in pieces gotta love it all

Day 2 laughter/tears

@oprarepairweek

Law sat leaning against the Sunnys mast, his hat pulled down as he observed the blonde cook of the starwhats. Blackleg-ya had at first reminded him far to much Cora, the hair, the cigarettes, the hearts that followed him when he spoke and twirled around a woman. That was where the similarities ended, where Cora had been clumsy and accident prone, Blackleg-ya acted as if he was born upon the sea. His moves were graceful and fluid even when fighting. Almost as if he was dancing.

The blonde cook was kind. He hid it behind his shouts and swears, but Law had seen him. Had seen how attentive to everyone's needs he was, he only made a show of it to the women aboard. It was a shield to protect himself.

The silly wanted posters really didn't do the man justice. He was beautiful. He watched as the man tipped his head back and laughed, his golden hair catching in the sun, a glowing halo around his head. Eyes crinkled in the corners, his mouth wide and happy. He wanted to hear his laughter and wanted to be the reason for his smile. Law felt his heart skip a beat.

“Shit,” Law had fallen in love, he was fucked.

This was not a part of his plans, he may have asked for this alliance but when it was over they would be enemies both after the same thing…that is what it would be if he by some miracle made it out alive.

Sanji watched Law stick his Ōdachi into the ground as he snuck to his knees, the sword being the only thing holding him up at this point.

They had managed to defeat Blackbeard. Avenging Ace and the Heart Pirates. Sanji sat next to the man he had fallen in love with. Something he never thought he'd do, the only other man he was in love with was Luffy, but the whole crew loved their captain with everything they were, so it didn't really count. You couldn't help it.

Law sobbed, his tears wetting the ground beneath him. Law was finally free to mourn his crew, his friends, and his family. Sanji rubbed the man's back. He wasn't alone. After what felt like hours, the black haired man's tears ran dry and slumped against Sanji shulder. He wiped the man's wet checks with his sleeve, Law looked tired, as if he just wanted to sleep forever.

“What now? What do I do now? I've always had a goal in mind, defeating Doflamingo, justice for Cora, freeing Wano taking down Kadio. Just as I found a new goal, Blackbeard destroyed everything! Yet now he's been taken care of, Bepo and I joined your crew, now I'm left without a puporpes,”

“You have time Law, just being around Luffy I know you'll find it eventually, he's good at that sorta thing,” Sanji brushed his hand against Law black locks, this was probably as close as they would ever get. He would take whatever Law would give him. Sanji had no plans on telling him how much he had fallen in love with the surgeon of death.

With his sharp features, inky black hair, and the tattoos across his skin, how could he compare to him? Sanji knew Law was smart, he was a surgeon for fucks sake! What did he a mear cook have to give to this man who could have anyone he wanted?

“I did it!” Sanji laughed, his joy was contgias law couldn't help but to smile. “I found the All blue!”

It was time. Law had this planned for as long as they had been on the trail of the All blue his Sanji stood thire gazeing at his dream, his blue eyes sparkled with joy, his hair aglow in sunlight just like the day he realized he had fallen for the other man. Law got down on one knee and took out the ring box. He had gotten him a realistic heart made from Ruby's.

“Sanji,” Law started speaking. He had practiced this over and over again. Sanji turned to look at him. “I fell in love with you on our way to Dressrosa. At the time, I was certain that I was a dead man walking. I still wasn't ready to admit a thing back in Wano. It didn't matter how much I wanted you. We are on opposing crews. Yet you were, therefore, when I lost everything but Bepo. You kept me sane. You are the stars to my night sky. I would be empty without you, would you black leg Sanji marry me?” Sanji had his hands covering his mouth, tears streaking down his cheeks. Sanji finally removed his hands. His smile was blinding.

“Yes! Fuck Law! I can't believe this!” Law stood up and Sanji threw himself into his arms.

“I love you,” Law cupped Sanji's face in his hands and kissed him.

#one piece #fanfic #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #law #trafalgar law #law x sanji #lawsan #oprarepairweek #oprarepairweek2024 #day 2 #laughter/tears

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nyupreservation · 5 months

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Surveying Spain: Working with Spanish Civil War Posters at NYU Libraries

Hi, my name is Mia Lindenburg. I am a graduate student undergoing NYU’s Dual Degree program, where I will get an MA in literature and an MLIS. This semester, I have been working with NYU’s Barbara Goldsmith Preservation & Conservation Department, mentored by Lindsey Tyne (Conservation Librarian), Laura McCann (Director of Preservation), Weatherly Stephan (Head of Archival Collections Management), and Felix Esquivel (Collections Manager, Special Collections), to survey the Spanish Civil War Poster Collection (ALBA.GRAPHICS.001). This internship has helped me to prepare for a future career in special collections libraries, where I will be required to work with delicate material similar to what I see in this collection. I am very thankful for this opportunity and how it has allowed me to delve deeper into archival work with a hands-on approach.

In addition to working with the Preservation department, I have been lucky enough to work with the Archival Collections Management (ACM) and Special Collections departments, allowing me to see the different perspectives of handling a large and often complicated collection. This blog post will demonstrate the different ways in which these departments added to my learning experience and show some of the special facets of working with this collection in particular.

BUILDING THE DATABASE

Before I began surveying this collection, I had to create an infrastructure that would allow me to compile the data I would be collecting. I used the software AirTable to build this database. First, I had to move the data that had already been collected into my table. This came from Archives Space (AS), an archives information management software used by NYU Libraries. This had much of the preliminary data I would need to fact-check against in the survey, such as poster locations. After I had brought the AS data into the table, I created fields that would duplicate the AS fields but with the descriptor (survey) to show any differences. Additionally, I made new fields for things we might want to consider, such as condition and size.

UNIQUE POSTER FORMATS

“I tu? Que fas per la victoria?”

ALBA-ES 46, copy 4 “i tu?” (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

The first set of posters that I want to discuss is ALBA-ES 45 and 46, also known as the two sides of “I tu? Que fas per la victoria?” a Catalan poster depicting a bloody soldier advocating for his audience to participate in the war, to support the cause. This collection has many copies, encapsulated (meaning this poster is inside a protective mylar sleeve) and unencapsulated, of this poster. The copies pictured below interest me because they were particularly delicate. You can tell from the photos that they were split into pieces, making flipping the posters to inspect the back difficult. These will need a lot of conservation work, although they may not be an immediate priority since so many copies are in fine condition.

ALBA-ES 45, copy 4 “i tu?” (Photos by: M. Lindenburg)

“Allisteu-vos a les milicies antifeixistes”

The poster “Allisteu-vos a les milicies antifeixistes,” belongs to a series of posters collected at The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia as part of a circulating exhibit.

ALBA-ES 116, recto, “Allisteu-vos a les milicies antifeixistes” (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

These interest me because of how they were mounted for the exhibition. Rather than encapsulating the posters or leaving them untouched, this exhibitor chose to attach muslin across the back and use cardboard and grommets to hang them.

ALBA-ES 116, verso, “Allisteu-vos a les milicies antifeixistes” (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

Annual Xmas Eve Ball

Poster ALBA-US-15, uses a mounting technique commonly used with posters associated with the Veterans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade (VALB).

ALBA-US-15 (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

It is mounted on a paperboard, which makes it somewhat heavy and unwieldy when grouped in folders. Take note of the headline of Zero Mostel, which shows the support the VALB received, even from celebrities.

THE INSCRIBED NAMES & WHO THEY WERE

Archie Brown is a signature I’ve encountered a lot in this collection.

ALBA-ES-8 (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

Brown was born in 1911 in Sioux City, Iowa. He was brought into the world of labor activism at an early age. 1934, he was arrested at a Young Communist League (YCL) event in San Pedro. But he continued with his activism despite this. In 1937, Brown got tuned into the struggles in Spain, particularly after his brother was recruited to the International Brigade. In San Francisco, Brown was denied a passport because of his radical reputation. So, he went to New York City and stowed away on a ship to France, where he would travel to Spain. He joined the forces of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade and, even after the war, continued to fight as a soldier and an activist.

Archie Brown, 1982 (Photo by: R. Bermack). Image Source.

Harry Hakam is an interesting character, partially because of his frequent correspondence with other members of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade.

ALBA-ES-77 (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

Hakam was born in Brooklyn in 1913. In February 1937, he sailed to France, arriving in Spain in March of the same year. He served primarily as a battalion runner, returning to the US in 1938. However, it’s his correspondence that makes him shine. His collection marker (Hakam) is found on many posters that share others’ names, meaning he likely sent these posters back and forth between fellow members.

Harry Hakam. Image Source.

We don’t have as much information on Al Erdberg, but we do know from the Harry Hakam Papers (ALBA.046) and the fact that Erdberg shows up in the Hakam posters that they had correspondence. Erdberg was likely part of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade or a state-side supporter. This would be an interesting figure to research further.

ALBA-ES-30 (Photo by: M. Lindenburg)

REHOUSING

A big problem I encountered when surveying these posters was with the housing rather than the posters themselves. Often, I encountered groups of ten or more posters in a folder, making the folder heavy and difficult to move. Further, if these posters are in mylar encapsulation, they become even heavier. To remedy this, the posters need to be rehoused into sturdier folders. I began some of this work with Laura McCann this semester, and the rehousing of the posters will continue through the summer.

VELCRO STICKERS

Some of the posters I found had velcro stickers left on the mylar encapsulation. These are likely from previous exhibition techniques, where the posters were attached to a wall using velcro. However, this technique is now deemed problematic, so Lindsey Tyne and I used a process to remove these stickers. We used a hot iron to heat small metal spatulas, which we then used to melt the adhesive of the sticker and lift the velcro off. This is a delicate process, but we got into a rhythm and moved fairly quickly.

Mia removing velcro (Photo by: L. Tyne)

This collection has taught me many things. I have learned to be patient, think carefully, and always be on the lookout for new observations, among many other smaller skills. If I were asked to advise someone starting a similar project, I encourage them to take note of their natural rhythm so that they can figure out which order of surveying works best for them to maximize efficiency. I would also tell them not to be afraid of asking questions, even if it’s clarifying something they think you already know. This has been an incredible experience, and I feel so lucky to have been a part of this collection. Thank you for taking the time to read my post!

#nyulibraries #nyuspecialcollections #libraryconservation #paperconservation #librarypreservation #preservingthepast

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imasloid · 7 months

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SHINY COLORS FASHION ANALYSIS - ILLUMINATION STARS (PART ONE)

This is a project analyzing and taking a look at the fashion design and application in the multimedia series, The IDOLM@STER: Shiny Colors. This section is about the classic idol star and sky-themed unit of the series, illumination STARS! If you want to jump to a specific section, go here!

(This is a reprint of my thread on Twitter. I put it on Tumblr for easier reading and for archiving purposes. Enjoy!)

UNIT PROFILE

Members from left to right: Mano Sakuragi (櫻木真乃), Hiori Kazano (風野灯織), Meguru Hachimiya (八宮めぐる)

Official Description: A new generation idol unit formed by three girls carrying a small light. Although their radiance is still faint at the moment, while sometimes clashing and supporting each other, they will continue to journey towards the first-class star!

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UNIT COSTUME ANALYSIS

Foreword: This is the first thread I wrote, so it’s going to be a bit all over the place, but the later sections are much more organized and consistent… Nevertheless, thanks for reading!

The poster unit of Shiny Colors, illumination STARS is comprised of the red, blue, and yellow representatives of the branch. Like the other iM@S “traffic light” units, their costumes have of simple but classic idol elements as well as symbology representing their branch.

Using their costume “Sparkle Illumination,” I’ve shown some examples of classic idol elements and Shiny Colors symbology that are present in illumination STARS’s unit ensembles. These themes will be expanded on in their other costumes’ analyses later!

The third theme, “Individuality in Unity,” describes how their costumes, though similar in design, have minute changes in detail to show off the members’ unique personalities. As the members are the red/blue/yellow reps of Shiny, this theme is central to their dynamic as a unit.

Here their costumes “Siriusly Crown” and “Planetes Series” are showcasing the theme “Individuality in Unity.” The variation in details can be seen in many idol costumes, but it’s very prevalent in iS’s costumes to symbolize their typical “red/blue/yellow” traits.

This isn’t to say that iS is a basic “red/blue/yellow” unit though. The members’ personalities deviate from the typical “red/blue/yellow” traits: Mano (introverted and shy), Hiori (self-conscious and emotionally charged), and Meguru (lonely and sensitive). But more on that later!

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UNIT COSTUME #1 - Sparkle Illumination (スパークルイルミネーション)

“Sparkle Illumination” is iS’s main unit costume, and is the most representative of the unit, their core themes, and aestethic. The name references the branch name, Shiny Colors, as well as their unit name, illumination STARS.

Speaking of symbology, this costume shares a lot in common with the branch-wide main costume, “Beyond the Blue Sky.” Their shared elements (seen in picture) and them both being the first costumes you ever see in the game symbolize the first flight into the sky with the player.

Though the costume is mostly the same across all members, there are some minute differences in detail that show the individuality and personality of Mano, Hiori, and Meguru. As seen in the graphic, it is mainly in the sleeves and bottoms.

Bringing back this image from earlier, the classic idol elements, sky/space motifs, and color scheme of “Sparkle Illumination” represent their newness to the idol world as well as their (seemingly typical) desire to “illuminate” the idol world with their own unique color.

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UNIT COSTUME #2 - Siriusly Crown (シリウスリークラウン)

“Siriusly Crown” is iS’s second unit costume, the first part of the name being a play on Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, & the word “seriously.” The costume represents Mano, Hiori, & Meguru earnestly chasing their dreams of becoming the brightest idols in the world.

As hinted by the name, this costume has a very heavy star motif. Their bottoms feature a pastel starry galaxy and gold stars adorn their bodies in their bows, armbands, and chains. The frills, bows, preppy tops, and soft pastels give the costume a softer edge.

Compared to “Sparkle Illumination” which focused more on classic idol elements & the “wing/sky” motif, Siriusly Crown leans in more into the “space” theming of their unit and shows more variation between their respective costumes. Both costumes have the same star armbands.

Though “Siriusly Crown” has the same color scheme throughout all the costumes, there are many detail variations that emphasize the individuality of each member. Mano’s is pure and fairytale-like, Hiori’s is classy and chic, and Meguru’s is sporty and bright.

This picture elaborates more on the variation in costume between Mano, Hiori, and Meguru and how it showcases their charm and unique personalities. For Siriusly Crown, the most difference is in their top and bottom styles which tells the viewer more about them visually.

Siriusly Crown’s design heavily references Mano as the center, leader, & the glue that holds the unit together. The majority of the costume is light pinks and lilacs (colors that Mano wears in later costumes), while dark blue and gold are accents, giving dimension to the costume.

Along with the color scheme, the symmetric detailing signals to the viewer that Mano is the center/leader of iS and is the unit’s core. Hiori/Meguru’s details having similar but opposite placements denotes their supporting of Mano, being an irreplaceable part of the team.

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UNIT COSTUME #3: Twinkly Cheerful (トゥインクリーチアフル)

“Twinkly Cheerful” is illumination STARS’ third unit costume. “Twinkly” obviously refers to their unit name, & just like with Siriusly Crown, a very heavy star motif. This costume’s theme is joy in unity, holding hands to transform into idols magical-girl style, hence “cheerful.”

This costume shares many elements with past costumes “Sparkle Illumination” and “Siriusly Crown,” as seen in the graphic. It combines the classic idol costume feel of Sparkle Illumination with the heavy sky/space symbolism of Siriusly Crown with a “popstar” aesthetic.

Because the concept of this costume is “unity,” the costumes are mostly similar with small differences in the tops and the sleeves. Even their hairstyles are similar high ponytails. Mano is still identifiable as the center, but the costumes look much more unified.

Twinkly Cheerful leans heavy into the western “popstar” look with the starwing insignia, polkadot sheer fabric, furs, dual-color headbands, cropped top, & in-ear mic, reminiscent of a poppy girl group. In a way, they’ve transformed (see animation) into the idols of their dreams.

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UNIT COSTUME #4: Planetes Series | Stella / Luna / Sol (プラテネスシリーズ | ステラ・ルーナ・ソール)

“Planetes Series” is illumination STARS’ fourth set of unit costumes and features the idols as angelic guardians of a city lost to time. These outfit mark a new direction these & later costumes take the “sky/space” theme, presenting the girls as higher powers or cosmic forces.

“Planetes Series” is the only illumination STARS unit costume that has separate names for each variation. Planetes Sol (Meguru) represents the sun/day, Planetes Luna (Hiori) represents the moon/night, & Planetes Stella (Mano) represents shooting stars/dawn.

Compared to all of the costumes we’ve seen so far, “Planetes Series” has the most variation in costume between the idols with different color schemes, fabrics, and textures. However, shared core elements and explicit theming assist in connecting them together.

In the Planetes Series, each idol represents a form of illumination in the sky, a “star” type, as well as a period in the diurnal cycle. True to their unit name, each idol illuminates a distinct time of day using their own “star” (sun/stars/shooting stars).

Mano’s position as leader/center is reinforced in these costumes as she represents dawn/dusk, the liminal states between day (Meguru) & night (Hiori). Unlike the sun or moon that are seen only at day/night, shooting stars are seen at the cusp between night and day.

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GO HERE FOR PART TWO (i hit picture limit)

#imas #idolmaster #shiny colors #the idolmaster #illumination stars #mano sakuragi #hiori kazano #meguru hachimiya #fashion #jfashion #idolm@ster #scfa

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thinkingimages · 1 year

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Finsen's apparatus for concentrating the sun's rays, illustration from Medical Electricity and Light: An Elementary Textbook for Nurses (c 1910)

“You have this Edwardian nurse in leg-of-mutton sleeves and steampunk eyeglasses doing something very technical”, explains Natasha McEnroe, Curator of the Florence Nightingale Museum. We're looking at a photograph from around 1900 in the museum's The Kiss of Light exhibition. The nurse is outside using a large lens, known as Finsen's apparatus, to focus direct sunlight onto the face of a woman with lupus vulgaris. The treatment is far less simple than it seems—such nurses knew the risk of burning.

In the early 20th century, light therapy was a very popular treatment for various ailments including lupus vulgaris, scrofula, and rickets. It took a skilled technician to administer treatment, and they were almost exclusively women. McEnroe was enthusiastic about running this exhibition in the small, temporary space at the back of museum after being approached by historian Tania Woloshyn, who had uncovered the hidden history of these female technicians through her archival research. Together, Woloshyn and McEnroe designed the exhibition and excellent accompanying book.

Many British hospitals administered light therapy to patients, especially in the interwar years. Nurses appear in nearly every photograph of light therapy, whether intimately holding the face of a patient to ensure precise application of light, or entertaining small children who needed reassurance when facing the intimidating apparatus. Yet, McEnroe says, nurses are “totally missing” from medical discussion of the “powerfully bactericidal” effects of light therapy. But the exhibition displays show the all-female nursing team of the Light Department at the Royal London Hospital, who were “praised for their exacting standards and kindness towards patients”, or the staff at the South London Hospital for Women and Children, who were all women.

There is a retro futurism about many of these images. We move from Edwardian outfits to 20th-century posters of lurid orange babies and grinning, tanned mothers. Photographs document how light therapy moved away from health care and into the domestic sphere. The picture of the “Homesun” mercury vapour lamp from the 1930s reflects this shift towards light therapy in the home, to which medical professionals were vehemently opposed. There are accounts of people falling asleep in front of their lamps and being burnt, or even, as the exhibition book describes, “being electrocuted while using them in the bathroom”.

Health professionals took light therapy seriously from the early days of treatment, because they knew that overdoses could be damaging. But the public's view that “tanned skin” was a reflection of “health” was unstoppable, and “by the late 1920s”, explains McEnroe, “light therapy became conflated with general sunbathing in the public realm”. The museum is responsibly addressing present-day concerns about sun exposure and skin cancer in a series of public events, talks, and lectures, and the museum is also giving visitors Cancer Research UK leaflets about sun safety. It's interesting to note that next door at St Thomas' Hospital there is still a phototherapy department, used mainly for dermatology."

Hidden histories of light therapy

Kelley Swain

Published:August 22, 2015DOI:https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(15)61527-6

PlumX Metrics

#Hidden histories of light therapy #Kelley Swain #Medical Electricity and Light: An Elementary Textbook for Nurses #Medical Electricity and Light #Hospital Clinic #Medical photographs #Light #Light Therapy

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dont-touch-the-phlebotinum · 2 years

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With a faint ding the elevator doors peel open. Steve's been reassigned enough times by now to know the drill, and this, stepping out into a narrow, dingy sub-basement corridor, isn't it. The place seems more likely to house cleaning cupboards and dusty storage rooms than offices. If he thought his own cubicle upstairs was depressing, it's nothing compared to being forced to work down here every day.

It doesn't exactly fill Steve with confidence.

"This way," says Agent Cunningham. The click of her heels echoes off the bare walls as Steve follows.

"So, are the rumours true?"

"I don't know what rumours you're talking about."

"Cunningham," says Steve.

She stops with a sigh and looks back at Steve. "He's mostly harmless," she says.

"But he likes the freaky cases."

"Well that's why you're here, isn't it, Agent Harrington? And if your record is any indication, you shouldn't have any trouble at all finding a scientific explanation for those freaky cases."

She turns and walks ahead, leading Steve farther into the forgotten depths of the building until they reach a door with an X on a scrap of paper taped in place of a name plate. Cunningham raps primly at the door – not that anyone inside is likely to hear it over the heavy metal blaring from within – and lets herself in.

Steve takes a cautious step after her and peers around the room. It's more of a closet than an office, the precariously stacked archive boxes and piles of manila folders loaded atop every surface only adding to the claustrophobic feeling. Newspaper clippings are pinned to the walls alongside blurry photographs of dark shapes in the sky and what Steve's fairly sure is another Bigfoot hoax. There's even a poster of a UFO right opposite the door, for God's sake.

If someone was trying to decorate for a deranged conspiracy theorist, they'd come up with something like this.

Steve wonders if maybe that's the point.

Finally his eyes land on the mop of dark curls bent over the desk, haloed in cigarette smoke and bobbing along to the music until Cunningham turns off the stereo.

"This had better be good, Chris."

"Eddie, this is Agent Harrington–"

He spins around in his chair to face them, and Steve's eyes track over him; the scars on his left cheek, faint but still visible; the shirt sleeves rolled past the elbows to reveal tattooed forearms; the dark eyes glaring back at them. He doesn't look like a conspiracy loon. He doesn't look much like a federal agent, either. What he looks like is the kind of guy Steve would drag home from a seedy bar and never see again come the morning.

Steve shakes away that thought.

"I told you I don't need a partner."

"And I told you that decision is out of your hands," says Cunningham. She turns to Steve with a smile, as if the two of them aren't currently being glowered at from across the room. "Steve, meet Agent Munson."

"Harmless, huh?" mutters Steve.

"Mostly. I'll leave you two to get acquainted," she adds, louder, and gives Munson a stern look. "Be nice."

Before either of them can protest she's stepping out of the room. The door shuts behind her with a definitive click, plunging the room into a stony silence.

When Steve looks back Munson's already watching him, sizing him up without subtlety. A hint of a wry smile hovers at his lips. "Is this a punishment for me or for you?" he says.

"Both, I suspect." There's a pencil sketch tacked up beside him – some kind of monster without a face that he's willing to bet Munson drew himself – and Steve studies it with a grimace. "You really believe in all this stuff?"

A quirk of a dark eyebrow. "You really trust your government to be wholly open and honest about the existence of the paranormal?"

"We work for the government."

"And?" he says. He shakes out another cigarette and is about to place it between his lips when he frowns down at the pack and decides against it. Instead, Munson picks up one of the pens scattered across his desk, clicking it over and over, so fast it grates on Steve's nerves.

He watches the discomfort flicker across Steve's face, and doesn't stop.

"So you're here to, what, report back to the brass that I'm as out of my gourd as you all think I am?"

"That's not my brief."

"What is your brief?" Munson shoots back. His eyes fixed on Steve are hard, but wary, perhaps. Defensive. It's not a look Steve was expecting from a man who drapes his reputation around himself like a mantle.

"These cold cases of yours," Steve says. "Maybe there is no scientific answer out there. But where there is, it's my job to find it."

"What happens when you can't?"

The words are a challenge, and after a lifetime of competitive sports the old cockiness is creeping back in before Steve can even think to repress it. "I don't think that's likely."

Munson grins and pushes himself out of his chair, snatching up one of the folders on his desk as he saunters across the room towards Steve. "Beg to differ," he says. He hands Steve the folder.

Inside is a picture of a doctor surrounded by smiling patients and a lurid newspaper headline about MK-Ultra by some writer called Murray Bauman. The publication is unfamiliar, which doesn't do much to reassure Steve that this Bauman guy isn't a quack.

"You ever heard of Hawkins, Indiana?" says Munson.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #steddiedaily #my writing

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rjalker · 6 months

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anyways. here's a fucking thread pointing out the blatant racism. At least there's one other person besides me who has a problem with this shit.

actually since Reddit fucking sucks for archival purposes I'll just copy and paste the entire thing here:

April 3rd 2024 for posterity.

____

Title:

So you understand that AI voice acting steals jobs from real voice actors, now can you understand that giving roles designed for Queer people of color to cishet white men is also stealing jobs from real Queer people of color?

Post:

Whitewashing does not exist in a vacuum.

Cis people giving roles designed for trans characters does not exist in a vacuum.

For every cisallohet white man who gets a role that was designed for a nonbinary person of color, there is now one more nonbinary person of color who's out of a job.

Rich successful white men do not need any more roles in Hollywood, especially not roles that should be going to Queer people of color. In the official art, Murderbot has dark skin. It has the darkest skin out of everyone in the Preservation Aux team.

[ID: A black and white digital drawing, showing a scene from The Murderbot Diaries book series. Murderbot, an androgynoid with very dark skin, wearing a white shirt and light pants, is leaping sideways over the chairs the other characters are sitting on, using one arm on the armrest to swing itself over, with its face hidden, and only the back of its head visible. The other characters are staring up at it in shock, confusion, and amazement: Ratthi, who has dark skin that is slightly lighter than Murderbot’s, is below it, throwing one hand out in shock, sending his mug of a dark liquid flying. He is wearing a light, long sleeved shirt and skinny jeans. Pin-Lee, who has light brown skin, is standing at a short table in the background, wearing a long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a short skirt. Bharadwaj, who has brown skin, leaning forward over the table to stare, with only her long sleeved shirt visible above the table. Overse, who is white, is sitting in a chair next to Ratthi on the left side of the screen, looking up, with Arada’s light brown, bare legs and feet in her lap, with a beaded ankle bracelet. Overse is wearing a long sleeved shirt and leggings, and her own shoes are kicked off on the floor in front of her. End ID.]

Colorism exists in the real world. People with darker skin face more systemic hatred and disenfranchisement than people with lighter skin. Racism is already a systemic inescapable problem. Colorism only makes it worse.

Murderbot in the official art is not just a person of color, it has dark skin, and is the darkest of all the "main characters" we see.

Real dark-skinned, Queer actors deserve the opportunity to shine in roles designed for them. It is blatantly racist for these roles to instead by stolen by white people of any kind, but especially heinous for the roles to go to cisallohet white men who are already incredibly successful.

Because Alexander Skarsgård and Apple TV have made the blatantly racist and exorsexist decision to cast him in the role for Murderbot, this means that real nonbinary people of color have just lost what could have been a breakout job opportunity.

If you understand that using AI for voice acting is depriving real people of jobs, then you also need to grasp that allowing white people to steal roles meant for people of color without any backlash or criticism is directly contributing to and upholding white supremacy.

Every role meant for a person of color that goes to a white person instead is another person of color who's now out of a job.

Whitewashing characters for live action adaptations does not exist in a vacuum. It's not harmless. It's not "chronically online" to have a problem with it. It's a direct result of white supremacy, and literally allows white supremacy to continue being upheld.

AI steals jobs. So does whitewashing. If you care about one, then you need to also care about the other. White supremacy and whitewashing go hand in hand. Apple TV deciding to whitewash Murderbot is not harmless or simply "cringey". It's literally real life racism, colorism, and white supremacy, even before we get into the blatant exorsexism and transmisia of stealing roles from out trans nonbinary people.

____

and yes. If people comment I will also edit all of those comments into this post because Reddit fucking sucks and you can't save it to the Wayback Machine. So this post will keep getting edited and probably get even longer.

Edit: actually no I'm just blocking all these people.

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feyreslover · 1 month

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Melodies of You: Chapter 1

Synopsis:

Fresh from a toxic relationship, Feyre is enjoying her single life and steering clear of commitment—until a one-night stand turns into something far more unexpected.

Now, suddenly thrown into a jumble of her past, Feyre must wade through a whirlwind of emotions and secrets, navigating her path to healing with a certain dark haired man.

( loosely, loosely based on Hannah Bonam-Young's "Out on a Limb" )

Masterlist

As she fiddled with the fraying sleeves of her sweater, Feyre realised the doctor sitting across from her, clipboard in hand, was expectantly waiting for her attention. The doctor's eyes, framed by dark lashes, were warm but focused.

“Oh, sorry.” She felt her cheeks warm, a flush creeping up her neck. She forced herself to meet the doctor’s gaze, trying to shake off the numbness that settled over her.

The doctor, unbothered by Feyre’s unintentional ignoring, smiled kindly as her gaze droped to the clipboard, skimming over the information. The sharp, medicinal smell of antiseptic lingered, slightly burning the inside of Feyre’s nose as she inhaled deeply. Colourful information posters littered the walls, offering splashes of colour in the otherwise stark, sterile office.

Save for the afternoon light, the only source of warmth that filtered through a single, narrow window, casting long, restless shadows across the floor, the room felt quite constricting.

“Well,” the doctor finally said, bringing Feyre’s attention back. “I have the reason for your recent fainting spells and sickness… Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

Pregnant. Pregnant.

A quiet oh was all Feyre managed to utter, her mind reeling with the unexpected news. she could hear a beeping noise in the distance, the sound punctuating the sterile silence of the room. It took her a moment to realise it was coming from the doctor's computer, reminding her of the reality she’s now faced.

The doctor continued to speak, her voice a murmur in the background as Feyre’s thoughts race. The beeping grew louder in her mind, mingling with the doctor's words, creating a dissonant symphony that heightened her anxiety.

***

As Feyre subconsciously traced the rim of her drink, her fingers leaving faint trails on the glass, she propped one arm onto the wooden bar, deeply contemplating her situation. She hadn’t noticed the man slipping onto the stool next to her, his presence a sudden, subtle warmth at her side.

A deep, sensual voice broke through Feyre’s reverie. “You seemed quite bored.”

Looking up from the dark speck of wood she had been staring at, Feyre made eye contact with the man, immediately taken by surprise by his face—his brown skin glowing under the dim bar lights, dark, almost purple eyes that seemed to pierce right through her, and a slight, playful curve to the right side of his mouth as he gazed down at her.

“I’m not bored,” Feyre had replied after a beat, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just—”

She paused, somehow unable to find the words.

“Enjoying your own company?” he had supplied smoothly, after she hadn’t answered.

“Something like that.”

The bartender finally walked over to them, the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversations forming a soft backdrop. The stranger next to her ordered a whisky, his voice a low rumble, and then turned to Feyre, a questioning expression adorning his face.

Deciding not to waste a free drink, Feyre told the bartender, “I’ll have a—”

***

Feyre quickly snapped out of her stupor, realizing that the doctor continued to speak, providing her with different options as she noted that Feyre’s expression had been one of shock, bordering on panic.

“Feyre, you’re still early. Why don’t you take the week to think about it, and we can book another appointment, okay?”

“Sure,” Feyre muttered, her voice distant.

Leaving the doctor's office, she wrapped her coat and scarf around her frame more securely, her breath forming small clouds in the frosty air. People walked past her, each engaged in their own lives, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside her. Nobody knew that she, Feyre Archeron, was pregnant.

The news still felt surreal as she reached the front steps of her apartment complex. Keys in hand, she trudged up the interior stairs, her feet heavy with the weight of her thoughts. Noting the peeling paint, Feyre was struck by the realisation that if she were to have a baby, this cramped, shabby apartment wouldn’t suffice.

As Feyre confronted the cold, drab exterior of her apartment, she barely registered herself falling to her knees. Her knees hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud, and Feyre was unable to stop the tears that silently started to run down her cold-bitten cheeks.

Head in her hands, Feyre sobbed. She sobbed for herself, for the baby growing inside of her.

She cried for the child she once was, her youthful dreams of the future now seeming so far away.

This had not been where she wanted to be—knocked up after a spontaneous one-night stand, where she left before she had gotten the handsome stranger’s name.

***

As his warm hand slowly made its way up her exposed hips, Feyre’s head tipped back, her eyes closed, relishing in the touch. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

A deep sound of enjoyment had escaped his throat as their contact become more intense. Lying down, Feyre felt vulnerable.

Yet she was exhilarated, fully exposed to him.

***

Snap out of it! she told herself. Her sobs subsided into quiet whimpers as she sat on the floor, the weight of her reality pressing down on her. She'd known she had to make a decision, but for now, she allowed herself to cry.

Using her wooden desk for support, Feyre lifted herself off the floor. Her knees, aching from the kneeling, cracked at the movement.

The beeping noise from the doctor’s office still echoed in her mind, blending with the ambient sounds of her apartment—the distant hum of traffic, the faint murmur of her neighbors through the thin walls, and the occasional creak of the building settling. These familiar sounds were a stark reminder that life went on, even if she felt like hers was stagnant.

Feyre took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had known she couldn’t stay in this limbo forever. She needed to make a plan, to grasp onto some form of control.

The fear of the unknown was been paralyzing, and she felt utterly alone. It was an ugly sort of pain, twisted with her past, entangled with old wounds and regrets.

The memories of her past, riddled with the weight of her failures and disappointments, had surfaced, adding to her current turmoil. The walls of her apartment seemed to close in on her, the peeling paint and dim lighting casting shadows that danced like spectres of her regrets.

The hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside only emphasised the oppressive silence, each noise a stark reminder of the solitude she felt.

Her bed, a sanctuary amidst the chaos, proved to be a comfort as Feyre slid herself under the covers. The familiar scent of her sheets, a mix of lavender and detergent, providing a small measure of solace. She decided that the rest of the day should be spent there, cocooned in the relative safety of her blankets. The soft fabric seeming to absorb her anguish, offering a temporary reprieve from her racing thoughts.

She was glad that her boss had pushed her to take the day off after her appointment, being the one who found her unconscious on the floor. The memory of her boss's concerned face and gentle insistence echoed in her mind, a small beacon of kindness.

Ever so slowly, Feyre reached under the covers and placed a hand on her flat stomach, tracing delicate swirls on it. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, filtering through the curtains and casting a warm, golden hue. The shadows of the leaves outside danced on the walls, creating a serene, almost hypnotic pattern.

In that moment, Feyre made a promise. She wasn’t sure if it was to herself or the baby, but she decided that she would make the right decision—the right decision for both of them.

The enormity of the commitment settled over her like a heavy blanket, but there was a newfound resolve in her heart. She would face whatever came next with determination and strength.

As she wiped the last of her tears away, Feyre felt a small spark of determination ignite within her.

#feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fic #feysand #acotar

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brokehorrorfan · 1 year

Photo

Enter the Video Store: Empire of Screams will be released on June 27 via Arrow Video. The Blu-ray box set includes five genre films produced by Charles Band’s Empire Pictures: The Dungeonmaster, Dolls, Cellar Dweller, Arena, and Robot Jox.

The Dungeonmaster is a 1984 fantasy-horror anthology with segments directed by David Allen, Charles Band, John Carl Buechler, Steven Ford, Peter Manoogian, Ted Nicolaou, and Rosemarie Turko.

Dolls is a 1987 horror film directed by Stuart Gordon and written by Ed Naha. Stephen Lee, Guy Rolfe, Hilary Mason, Ian Patrick Williams, and Bunty Bailey star.

Cellar Dweller is a 1987 horror film directed by John Carl Buechler and written by Don Mancini. Debrah Farentino, Brian Robbins, Pamela Bellwood, Vince Edwards, Jeffrey Combs, and Yvonne De Carlo star.

Arena is a 1989 sci-fi action film directed by Peter Manoogian and written by Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo. Paul Satterfield, Hamilton Camp, and Claudia Christian star.

Robot Jox is a 1990 post-apocalyptic sci-fi action film directed by Stuart Gordon and written by Joe Haldeman. Gary Graham, Anne-Marie Johnson, Paul Koslo, Robert Sampson, Danny Kamekona, Hilary Mason, and Michael Alldredge star.

The limited edition box set includes 15 postcards, five double-sided posters, Arrow Video membership card, and 80-page book featuring new writing by Lee Gambin, Dave Jay, Megan Navarro, and John Harrison plus archival material.

Each film is housed in its own Blu-ray case with reversible sleeves featuring original and new art by Ilan Sheady, packaged together inside a box with art by Laurie Greasley. Specs and special features can be found below.

The Dungeonmaster:

New 2K restoration from the original negative with original lossless mono audio

3 cut of the film: US theatrical version, pre-release version, and international version (under the title Ragewar)

Audio commentary with actor Jeffrey Byron, moderated by film critics Matty Budrewicz and Dave Wain (new)

Interview with actor Jeffrey Byron (new)

Theatrical trailers

Image gallery

Computer programmer Paul Bradford is sucked into a fantasy world by Mestema, a demonic sorcerer in search of a worthy opponent.

Dolls:

New 2K restoration from the original interpositive with original lossless stereo audio

Audio commentary by David Decoteau, Empire alumnus and friend of Stuart Gordon (new)

Audio commentary by director Stuart Gordon and writer Ed Naha

Audio commentary by cast members Carolyn Purdy-Gordon, Stephen Lee, Carrie Lorraine, and Ian Patrick Williams

Interview with editor Lee Percy (new)

Toys of Terror: The Making of Dolls - Interviews with Gordon, Yuzna, Purdy-Gordon, Williams, Charles Band, and Gabe Bartalos

Film-to-storyboard comparison

Theatrical trailers

Image gallery

A group of strangers find themselves forced to seek shelter at the isolated home of an old toymaker and his wife, only to find that the puppets and dolls have a vicious life of their own.

Cellar Dweller:

Additional picture restoration with original lossless stereo audio

Audio commentary by special make-up effects artist Michael Deak, moderated by film critics Matty Budrewicz and Dave Wain (new)

Grabbed by the Ghoulies - An appreciation of John Carl Buechler by film critics Matty Budrewicz and Dave Wain (new)

Interview with special make-up effects artist Michael Deak (new)

Original sales sheet

Original production notes

VHS trailer

Empire Pictures trailer reel

Image galleries

A comic book artist (Jeffrey Combs) with a penchant for the macabre takes inspiration from an ancient tome and unleashes an ancient evil.

Arena:

New 2K restoration from the last known surviving 35mm elements with original lossless stereo audio

Alternative full frame presentation

Audio commentary by director Peter Manoogian, moderated by film critics Matty Budrewicz and Dave Wain (new)

Interview with co-writer Danny Bilson (new)

Interview with special make-up effects artist Michael Deak (new)

Theatrical trailer

Image gallery

In the far future of 4038, a short order cook becomes the first human in 50 years to compete in an intergalactic boxing event on the far side of the universe.

Robot Jox

New 2K restoration from the original negative with original lossless stereo audio

Audio commentary by director Stuart Gordon

Audio commentary by associate effects director Paul Gentry, mechanical effects artist Mark Rappaport, and stop-motion animator Paul Jessel

Interview with actor Gary Graham (new)

Interview with actor Anne-Marie Johnson (new)

Interview with actor Paul Koslo

The Scale of Battle: David Allen and the FX of Robot Jox - Interviews with visual effects artists Steve Burg, Yancy Calzeda, Paul Gentry, Kevin Kutchaver, Dennis Muren and John Vincent (new)

Original sales sheet

Original production notes

Theatrical trailer

Image galleries

Men and women pilot giant machines in gladiatorial battle to settle international disputes over territory.

Also included:

15 postcard-sized art cards

5 double-sided posters

Arrow Video “membership card”

80-page perfect-bound book featuring new writing by Lee Gambin, Dave Jay, Megan Navarro, and John Harrison plus archival material

#the dungeonmaster #dolls #cellar dweller #robot jox #arrow video #arena #dvd #gift #ilan sheady #laurie greasley #stuart gordon #charles band #john carl buechler #jeffrey combs #horror

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renegadeknight · 5 months

Text

It was instinct more than anything that had his gun drawn in the span of a single step backward. But it was also instinct that held the barrel toward the ground.

“No-no-no-don’t-don’t-don’t.” She scrambled back and her hands came up between them. Spread fingers trembled as she pleaded. Voice seeped in desperation. “I can explain. It’s old. It’s so old. I’m not-I’m not infected.”

His vision was still tunneled to her arm where the sleeve of her shirt was hiding what had clearly been an infected bite. He didn’t want it to be true but how many had he seen by now? On posters plastered all over the QZ. On desperate people pleading for lives that were already lost. Just as she was pleading now.

#this happened a little earlier than expected pls enjoy!#rooftop rendezvous #tlou fanfiction #ellie and joel #writing things #my fics

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anxiety-elemental-kay · 1 year

Text

Eidolon

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Multi

Fandom: Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023)

Relationships: Meryl Stryfe/Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Meryl Stryfe/Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Characters: Meryl Stryfe, Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Additional Tags: Post-Episode: e12 High Noon at July (Trigun Stampede), Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Mashwood Week 2023, Prompt: Ghosts

Language: English

Words: 2,373

Summary:Vash was gone, but she saw his face everywhere.

He watched the purple star fall back to earth, bright and blazing, and JuLai destroyed in a blast of light.

Note: After the DDoS attack on Ao3, I’ve decided I’ll also start posting my fic here on Tumblr, but I’ll add a link to Ao3 for people who’d rather read there instead. This is for @mashwoodweek day 3, based on the prompt “Ghosts” Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48448810

Vash was gone, but she saw his face everywhere.

On new wanted posters, smiling face above the largest bounty ever issued on No Man’s Land. Wanted for plant theft, terrorism, and mass murder. Dead or alive.

“Why did they have to use this photo?” Vash complained to her once.

There were plenty of people who claimed to be Vash the Stampede, stories of a demon clad in red terrorizing a town, but each one she investigated turned out to be imposters. Each wielding Vash’s reputation like a sword. There were no confirmed sightings of Vash in two years.

“Idiot blew himself up,” Wolfwood said to her once, after they’d shared too many drinks in an effort to satisfy the yawning void of their shared grief. “He’s scattered across fifty square miles of desert. There’s nothing left to look for.”

Merl had no reason to believe otherwise. They’d both seen the same thing.

His image continued to follow her.

—

Nicholas remembered watching twin stars fly up and up into the sky, higher then anything he’d ever seen. He watched the purple star fall back to earth, bright and blazing, and JuLai destroyed in a blast of light.

As soon as he realized what was going to happen, as that purple light began to bloom in the city’s heart, he’d grabbed Meryl again and dove for the relative cover of her truck. Heat and air and the light of judgment roared around them, he tried to curl his body around hers, until it all faded. It left behind the smell of molten glass.

Meryl wanted to go search, try to find something, even giving his sleeve a tug, but he did nothing, so she left him behind. He’d considered stealing her truck, but didn’t have it in him to betray someone else who was too hopeful, too idealistic, too stupid and soft for their own good. Instead he walked, his namesake his only company.

He didn’t think Meryl would want him there when she came back, anyway.

Vash the Stampede, falling star, left a blackened crater where once stood a city. Leaving a blackened crater inside Nicholas.

—

They used the photos she took when they ran her story.

Meryl prided herself on her photography. Several of her pieces had been displayed in the November University annual art shows. Her parents were very proud, and had a couple hanging back in her childhood home.

She was inexperienced in journalistic photography, a lack quickly exposed once she was in the field. However, she could track her improvement over the months she’d traveled with Vash: her compositions improved, there was less blur in her unplanned shots, and she’d gotten better at catching small, important moments.

Vash was smiling in so many of those pictures, and real ones too: petting a stray black cat, sharing donuts with all of them during a quiet afternoon, Wolfwood catching Vash cheating at cards.

(She did not share those pictures.)

Bernardelli liked her photography, but hadn’t been as happy about her prose.

She’d earned respect at the office, when she’d finally stumbled back to civilization and reported in. Even when she told the story of Roberto’s death, the other journalists clustered around her, a weary empathy in their eyes. She wasn’t the only one to lose a mentor, a colleague, out in those hellish wastes. It would be okay, they reassured her, this is the scoop that’ll make your career.

But reporting that Vash the Stampede was trying to stop the destruction of JuLai? Nonsense. Everyone knew he was a monster, a force of pure destruction. Why else would he be called the Humanoid Typhoon? Why else would JuLai have been destroyed?

And no one was going to believe her story about an evil twin brother. Didn’t she know better than to believe such an obvious lie?

She’d been made to revise her story several times. The terror of JuLai still haunted her, the dual grief of losing Roberto, killed for her own recklessness, and Vash, disappeared because even though she had saved him, it hadn’t been enough. She moved through the world as if already in her grave too, so when her editor demanded she make changes, she didn’t object, and rewrote her article until they were satisfied.

There were a lot of things she would have done differently, if she had the chance.

—

The Eye of Michael did not call for him.

Nicholas would have gone back, like the loyal hound they’d made him. It didn’t matter what the contract said, at the end of the day it was only ink. If they went back on their word he would still obey them, for he had no other power that could possibly save the orphanage, and the children who shouldn’t share his fate, Livio’s fate.

But they did not call for him. He made no effort to reach out. There did not appear to be any consequences to this.

What was he even supposed to do now? Was the Eye spying on him? Did Conrad see him save Meryl, tell the rest of the order of his betrayal?

He went back to Hopeland and the orphanage was still there, untouched by time or malice.

Nicholas couldn’t stand to get too close, not that anyone there could ever recognize the thing their big brother Nico became. He’d gotten a pair of binoculars, got as close as he dared, and hoped no one would spot him spying on the orphanage.

All looked well. The most violent thing he saw were the occasional bandaged knee.

He remembered the last time he’d been to Hopeland, aboard the sand steamer he’d followed Vash onto. He’d hoped it would be boring, keeping the Typhoon on a tight leash because the moron would throw himself into danger the first chance he got. If only Livio hadn’t followed him there. If only a lot of things had been different.

It was also the first time he truly saw Vash.

Lit up by the blue glow of the plant behind him, a color so rare on this dry planet, Vash stared at them with a face and eyes lined with intricate patterns.

Monstrousness revealed. A thing none of them were meant to see.

Meryl had been the first to move then, to go to him when Vash fell. Nicholas had too much of his humanity stripped away to do anything but stare at the limp body, even as he wondered if this meant his mission was a failure. As human as Roberto was, the reporter had seen enough horrors to be cautious of Vash and his alien nature.

She’d been the only one brave enough to reach back out.

Now, Nicholas looked out over the orphanage’s courtyard, a home he could never return to. Miss Melanie peeled potatoes while keeping an eye on the children playing in the dirt, and Nicholas realized he missed Meryl too.

—

The first time Meryl went back to the crater, it was to construct a memorial.

Looters had already gone over what wreckage laid directly outside the blast zone, leaving only twisted metal behind. A chainlink fence had been erected around the crater, to keep the curious away. She spent several hours finding scraps that were the right size for her plan but light enough to carry, and hauled them over to her chosen spot along the fence.

Once she had her improvised gravestones erected, she flipped through a private album she’d brought along. She’d added to it ever since she first made it at the age of eight, when she first showed interest in photography. Each picture had a date written on its protective plastic sleeve, following Meryl through her life, from childhood to school to college and her very first job.

She’d added those pictures not meant to her bosses or the public.

There weren’t many group shots, heart sinking as she searched. It wasn’t a vacation, she’d been on the job, and though she had no idea what Vash would find in JuLai, she could have never known how suddenly and how violently their shared journey would end. She wished she’d taken more.

The perfect photo wasn’t one of hers after all. Wolfwood had stolen her camera, and turned the lens on all of them. Wolfwood made a goofy face, Vash flashed a hand sign he later explained the meaning of, Meryl was trying to snatch her camera back, and in the back Roberto looked over at the three of them with a weary fondness.

The tough and tender days they shared and loved.

She used a bent nail to pin the photo in place, and left a pack of Roberto’s favorite cigarettes at the memorial’s base. She added a new marker to her map, and drove away in mournful silence.

—

Nicholas hadn’t been looking for Meryl, but he still found her. He hadn’t recognized her at first when he walked into the nearest diner for some grub. There was something different in the way she carried herself, no longer read to him like a little girl trying to act tougher than she was. There was more steel in her now, and when she spotted him she was quicker to recognize an old companion. He waited for her to yell or scream or try to shoot him with that stupid tiny gun. She smiled instead, just like he might have.

Nicholas didn’t know if he was going to laugh or cry or break something.

“I missed you, asshole,” she said, with the kind of playful bite he realized he yearned for, so he did all three.

He apologized for getting them kicked out of the diner, but Meryl only laughed, bright and for a moment, untroubled.

—

They cross paths several times over the next two years.

To Nicholas’ surprise, Meryl chose to stay in the field. He thought about it, then realized that no, he wasn’t surprised. Little Miss shared Vash’s absolute absence of self-preservation and bottomless courage. Brave and stupid.

She’d given him a radio frequency to use if he wanted to get in touch. He didn’t have the guts to use it, but maybe if he heard a particularly wild rumor that a journalist might go and investigate, maybe he just happened to wander in that direction too. Entirely coincidence. He wasn’t desperate or anything.

Once, when they were both tired and lonely and full of the same grief, they’d rented a room together. They held each other close, and stripped each other of their carefully constructed armor. They kissed, they bit and scratch and pulled each other close. The only two living souls left who knew what happened, who knew the love and terror of No Man’s Land’s fallen angel. They were alone in the world, no one else like them left.

“Do you think this is how Vash feels?” Meryl asked, and Nicholas had never been good with words, so he clung tighter instead.

He felt awful, after. Like he’d soiled her by touching her after everything, like he’d betrayed Vash once again. He’d let himself forget he was a thing made of violence, that could only ever do violence to others.

“I liked it too,” she told him anyway, and he didn’t believe her.

—

They’d found the same lead independently of each other.

Meryl was already at the town’s bar when Wolfwood walked in. By now a glance was all he needed to ask her if she wanted him to join her, and she nodded, so he sat on the barstool to her left.

“You get a good look at the guy yet?” he asked, laying his covered cross against the chair to his own left.

“Nope,” Meryl said with a frown. “I’m not optimistic though, not from the things witnesses say about him and his gang.” She sipped her glass of tea, grateful the bartender had served it without condescension. “I still want to make sure, but it’s probably another imposter.”

Wolfwood grunted, a low, gruff sound he made when he didn’t want to admit to disappointment. Their fitful, improbable search was weighing on him more heavily than it did her. At least she got a story and a paycheck out of these ventures, which was cold comfort, but more than Wolfwood ever received. She feared one day he’d whittle himself down to his bones and there’s be nothing she could do for him.

“This is stupid,” he muttered.

“Too bad,” she said with an expression that was only half a tease. “You’re stuck here with me now.”

The bartender handed Wolfwood his drink. “Worse people to be trapped in hell with.” She punched his shoulder.

Two people burst into the diner, a tall man and a young girl, and all attention snapped to them. The locals soon turned away with rolled eyes with shared mutters of “Just Lina and Eriks”. The girl, about twelve maybe, scuttled over to the bar and started talking to bartender, clearly familiar with each other. As her guardian followed, Meryl felt her stomach drop to the uneven floor.

There he was, the phantom that haunted them both for two years.

She didn’t call out to him, wouldn’t expose him, not while a man with a mask of his face and wielding his unearned reputation like a sword terrorized this place.

She wanted to, wanted to call out his name and hear his voice in answer. At her side Wolfwood stared out at the void in their hearts, though he’d never say it, never admit to it, he’d never been that good at hiding what he truly felt. She could see what Vash had in those eyes, long ago.

A vacant stare found theirs, as the young girl at his side continued to chat with the bartender. Eyes so startlingly blue without tinted glasses to hide them were wide, as if he were the one who saw the dead among the living.

(In a few moments, a cannonball would crash through the bar’s door. A bandit would threaten a man’s life, demand a chance to punish a child. Instead a fallen angel would offer his body and pride in exchange. There would be gunshots and blood and rescues and reunions.)

Vash looked away, his hair hiding his face from them both.

#trigun #mashwood #kay writes things

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mothgodofchaos · 2 years

Text

Fireplace

Soft winter moments today? I think so. This totally wasn’t inspired by @umbral-archives‘ Lumberjack!Murdoch, not at all. /s Murdoch x GN!Reader, TW: blood, fire Words: 700

It was cold up in the cabin, you shivering up in a blanket. You knew he was busy, so you simply kept to yourself, snuggling up in one of his sweaters with your cup of coffee. The quilt was made of flannels that he outgrew, but kept around for you. His shoulders had gotten too wide for them, but you had the quilt quietly commissioned. Murdoch beamed when he realized what you were wrapped up in, not quite a hug from him, but very close.

You hear the door to the garage open and close, a quiet grunt and some thundering footsteps of boots hitting the wooden floor. He brushes the snow off of his hat as he enters the living room, stopping when he sees you shivering on the couch. “Angel, why are you sitting here in the cold? You look near frozen! Why didn’t you ask me to provide a fire for you?” “...You were busy outside, I didn’t want to bother you…” He kneels down in front of you, taking off his gloves as he takes your freezing hands in his. They’re warm, rough, enveloping yours as he looks into your eyes. “I will never be too busy for you. That is a promise, my angel~” He takes off his coat, wrapping it around you, helping you put your arms into the sleeves. He adjusts his sweater, smoothing it out before going over to the fireplace. You put on his gloves, anything to keep yourself warmer in the freezing cold room. “Won’t you get cold, Mur?” “I’ll be alright, angel. I can put on more layers if I get too cold. Right now I want to make sure you’re warm. The fire will take a moment to build, but I’ll be sitting in front of it. You just stay there.” He gets up from his place, crouched in front of the fireplace, to move to the back porch. He grabs some of the wood he chopped earlier that week, holding several bundles on his shoulders before stacking them all nice inside. The occasional glance over at you to make sure you’re warming up puts a small smile on your face, which puts that glimmer back in his eye. Tears up some wanted posters and newspapers he cut some clippings from and throws them in the bottom, topping it with some kindling. A one-two click of a lighter and it ignites, and he quickly moves in with some of the smaller sticks. You watch the flames’ light flicker across his face, that soft smile turning into a murderous smirk before your eyes. He continues to build the fire until he puts a large log on top. Standing up, hands on his hips as he proudly looks over it. Murdoch moves both of the armchairs in front of the fire, scooping you up and placing you in one of them. You can feel the heat on your face, allowing your legs to escape the cocoon of blankets to reach your feet towards the fire. “It’ll need a moment to burn, so it’s not as big and hot as I am~” You roll your eyes at him, kissing him lightly as he bends down, a low chuckle as he presses another kiss to your temple. His hand squeezes your shoulder as he walks behind the chair and down the hall, returning with a scrunched up article of clothing. He throws it in the fire with a satisfied sigh, wiping the remaining blood on his hands on his handkerchief. He considers the two armchairs, before picking you up again, to which you squeak for a moment at, before you’re put down in his lap. “Decided you were too cold, MurMur~?” “Angel, you know I will always take any chance to be close to you~”

You cuddle into his chest, watching the fire as you hear a satisfied sigh from him, the rise and fall of his chest shifting you slightly in your seat. You drape the blankets over both of you, taking off his coat for it to be replaced with an arm around your shoulders. Together, you watch the shirt burn, knowing it just means more time with your Killer.

#murdoch #murdoch markiplier #murdock markiplier #murderiplier #murdoch x reader #murdock x reader #markiplier egos #gn!reader #TW: fire #TW: blood #stabbington #chaoswrites

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lesbicosmos · 1 year

Text

day 4 of @chrisginnyweek !!

day 4 prompt: time

my interpretation: different time period au (medieval/merlin)

summary: ginny is the king's ward and chris is her maid, but there's something more between them. ginny suggests they go for a picnic in the woods and lesbianism ensues

notes: if you've seen merlin, here's my list of character parallels for this au:

ginny = morgana chris = gwen neil = arthur todd = merlin keating = gaius mr perry = uther (bc shitty father figures) charlie = gwaine knox = lancelot meeks = leon pitts = percival cameron = elyan then stick is a stablehand and all the horses are named after midsummer nights dream characters because i had to include that somewhere

also on ao3!!

we lay here for years or for hours

Ginny awoke to the bright light of the morning sun shining behind her eyelids as she heard the silk curtains being carefully opened.

“Good morning, my lady,” came the familiar cheerful voice from over near the window.

Ginny finally opened her eyes, stretching her limbs in her huge four-poster bed as she followed Chris with her gaze.

“Morning, Chris.”

This was their usual routine for the morning: Chris brought Ginny out of her deep sleep with her soft voice and the dazzling sunshine through the window. Then, as Ginny was fully waking up, Chris fixed the curtains and replaced any candles that had fully burnt. Ginny’s breakfast would always be on the table and her hairbrush would be on the dresser ready to be used.

As Ginny stood up from the bed, Chris left the room to go and get her clothes for the day. She walked over to the table and popped a grape into her mouth just as her maid came back into the room holding Ginny’s favourite dress. It was soft satin and a gorgeous purple colour with gold embellishments and a sheer blue cardigan. The dress made her feel like a princess, which she supposed she was, really. She lived in the castle with the King as her guardian, after all. A smile spread across Ginny’s face as she took the dress from Chris’s hands and went behind the changing screen.

“Can you help me with this fastening?” she asked after a few minutes, stepping out from behind the screen.

“Of course!” came Chris’s reply, and Ginny turned around so her back faced her.

Ginny felt Chris’s hands take the ribbons at the back of the dress and began pulling them slowly tighter. There was an odd silence between them as she did; not awkward or uncomfortable, by any means, just…odd. Tense, almost. Ginny felt her breath hitch when Chris’s hand lightly brushed her back as she threaded the ribbon through the loops to fasten the dress.

Once she’d finished, Chris moved over to the dresser to get the sheer cardigan, allowing Ginny to slide her arms through the wide sleeves. Then she stood directly in front of her, her fingers working on the cardigan’s front fastening at her abdomen. They were so close together, their faces only a few inches apart. If Ginny moved just a little bit further forward-

“Is there anything planned today, my lady?” Chris broke the silence, taking a step backwards and breaking Ginny out of the strange trance she’d fallen into.

“Chris, please,” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I’ve told you; you can call me Ginny. We’re friends, there’s no need for the formalities.”

She swore Chris’s cheeks became slightly pinker as Ginny sat down at her dresser.

“Sorry, my- Ginny. Is there anything planned today?”

Chris took the hairbrush and began slowly combing through her dark hair.

“Not specifically. Although, it does look like a fine day to go for a ride in the woods.”

“Of course. Would you like me to go and tell Neil once I’ve finished your hair? Or would you like the King to accompany you instead?”

Ginny lightly chuckled. Chris was always so focused on making sure she was doing her duties. Ginny wished she knew just how much she meant to her.

“No, no, Chris. Not with either of them. I’m sure Neil has his princely duties to be getting on with, anyway."

Neil might as well have been Ginny’s brother. They were raised together as children, have known each other practically all their lives. Whilst they do bicker sometimes, they’ve always been close. There was an understanding between them, but neither had exactly figured out what.

“If he ever wakes up, that is,” Chris laughed. “As I passed his chambers I could hear Todd having to practically hit the bedframe with a sword just to get him to open his eyes.”

“The future King of Camelot, ladies and gentlemen. I still can’t believe people think he’s going to be the best King the land has ever known.”

Chris seemed surprised at that. “You don’t think he will?”

“Oh, I think he will. With his kindness and ideas, this kingdom will prosper once he’s on the throne instead of his father. I just think it’s ironic that he’s still the same dramatic prince as ever.”

“He has always been one for the theatrics, hasn’t he?”

A memory flooded into Ginny’s mind, of her and Neil around aged 10, having been bought wooden swords by a visiting king. They snuck out into the courtyard in the night, playfighting and putting together a choreographed performance, which they showed the King the next day. He didn’t seem too impressed. He never was.

Ginny shook the memory away, aware that she’d zoned out for a few seconds.

“Anyway, no. I don’t want to go for a ride with Neil today.”

This was her chance to spend more time with Chris.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Chris’s eyes widened in shock, stopping the gentle brushing of Ginny’s hair.

“Me?”

“Yes, Chris. You.”

Ginny stood up from her chair, so there was very little space between the two of them once again. There were a few seconds where that tense silence returned and neither of them moved. Ginny wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even breathe.

Inevitably, the moment ended, and Chris spoke.

“Are you sure, my lady? You know there’s been bandits hiding out in those woods for weeks now, I can’t protect you if something happens. Perhaps one of the knights-”

“Chris. I want to go with you.”

Ginny looked at her maid sincerely, trying to show how desperate she was to spend time with her. Chris didn’t seem against the idea, but the look of worry on her face was impossible to avoid. Ginny had an idea.

“How about we ask a few of the knights if they’d tag along with us, then? Just to keep lookout in case the bandits are still around. I’m sure Charlie, Meeks and Pitts wouldn’t mind a day in the woods, if we offer them food.”

Chris seemed to visibly relax at that, placing the hairbrush back down onto the dresser.

“Okay. I’ll go and send word to them, ask if they have any duties today.”

“Thank you, Chris.”

Chris smiled brightly and turned to leave the room, but Ginny spoke again just as she got to the door.

“If they can’t come…”

Chris turned around.

“It’s not like I can’t protect us.”

Ginny gave a quick wink, and she watched Chris look down at the ground as if hiding her blush. She nodded and left the room.

It was around an hour later when Chris returned to Ginny’s chambers. She’d managed to convince the three knights to join them, and had then gone down to the kitchens to fill a picnic basket with the best food she could get: bread, fruit, the whole lot. The basket was fairly heavy by the end of it, but the weight wasn’t the thing that made her drop it onto the ground as she entered the room Ginny was in.

Ginny stood by the window, focused. She’d put on the leather sword sheath she’d been gifted by Neil a few months ago, and was sliding her sword into it. Chris knew that Ginny was good with a sword, that was no surprise to her; she simply couldn’t get over how the sight of her with the weapon made her feel even after this time. She really shouldn’t have found it so incredibly…attractive. If she had to die by sword, she’d willingly meet her end by that specific one, she thought; then mentally scolded herself for thinking it.

“Chris, you alright?”

“Yes! The basket’s just…a bit on the heavy side,” she lied

Ginny walked over to her, opening the basket and seeing what was inside.

“Oh, strawberries! My favourite!”

“I know,” Chris smiled. “The knights said they’d meet us by the courtyard gates, so we’d better get the horses.”

Ginny nodded, and her and Chris both reached for the basket handle at the same time, their hands brushing for a moment.

“I’ll take it, my lady.”

“Please, Chris. I insist.”

Chris couldn’t argue with her. She took a step back and let Ginny take the woven picnic basket and walk towards the door.

“Going out?” a quiet voice called from behind them as the two women made their way through the halls of the castle.

They turned around to see Todd walking out of Neil’s chambers, carrying a freshly polished chest plate. Sometimes Ginny forgot that he was technically the prince’s manservant – they were so much closer than that, and it was clear to everyone who knew them. There were rumours about them, but only few knew that those rumours were true. Ginny and Chris had known for over a year, ever since they’d caught the two of them exchanging secret kisses in the armoury.

“We’re going into the woods for a picnic,” Ginny told him.

“You could join us if you’d like!” Chris chimed in.

As much as she loved Todd, Ginny didn’t really want him crashing their picnic. Sure, the knights were going to be there, but she’d make sure they were standing at such a distance that meant her and Chris would have some privacy.

“I can’t, sorry,” Todd said, and Ginny silently thanked him. “Got to prepare for the knighting ceremony tomorrow.”

“Of course. We’ll see you at dinner later?”

“Yep,” Todd replied, adding a quiet “have fun, you two,” before turning around and walking in the direction of the armoury.

As Chris and Ginny walked into the courtyard, they felt the warmth of the early summer sun shining down on them. It wasn’t too hot to be uncomfortable but definitely wasn’t cold – the perfect day. They walked over to the stables, where a blond stable hand was tending to one of the knight’s horses.

“Stick!” Ginny said as she walked over to him.

The stable hand turned around and gave a small bow when he saw Ginny.

“My lady, what a lovely surprise. What can I do for the two of you?”

“Could you ready our horses? We’re heading into the woods with a few of the knights.”

Stick nodded but then seemed to freeze for a moment and looked apologetic.

“I can ready Hermia for you, my lady, but I’m afraid Lysander suffered an injury a couple of days ago and isn’t quite back on his feet just yet.”

Hermia was Ginny’s horse – she’d had her since she was a child: a gorgeous black stallion. None of the servants were allowed horses of their own, but Chris had taken to Lysander a few years ago, and now she was about the only person he’d allow to ride him without knocking them off his back. He was a young grey mare, who currently lay inside the stable, one hoof visibly damaged.

“I can ready one of the other horses for you, if you’d like, Chris?”

Chris opened her mouth to respond but Ginny cut in.

“Nonsense. She can ride with me. That’s alright with you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chris stammered, slightly taken aback.

Stick gave them a nod then went to fit Hermia’s saddle.

“Are you sure, Gin? I can take one of the other horses, it’s not too much trouble.”

“Gin? That’s a new one.”

Chris’s cheeks appeared to grow redder as she realised what she had said.

“Sorry.”

“No, no. I love it.”

Chris relaxed, smiling.

“And of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Besides, it’ll be one less horse for the knights to keep track of once we’re out there,” Ginny chuckled.

After a few minutes, Stick walked out of the stables with Hermia’s reins in hand.

“Here she is, all ready.”

“Thank you, Stick.”

Chris held out her hand for Ginny to use to help her mount the horse, then Stick helped Chris up so she was sitting behind her. Chris awkwardly put her hands in front of her, trying and failing to keep herself stable but not knowing what else to do with her hands.

“Chris, you’ll fall off like that,” Ginny laughed. “Put your arms around my waist.”

Chris’s mind may have slightly short-circuited at that, and it took her a few seconds to comprehend what Ginny was telling her to do and follow through with it. She did, delicately moving her arms forward underneath Ginny’s until she was practically hugging her from behind, their bodies flush against one another. Ginny took Chris’s hands in her own, pulling them tighter around her.

“There’s no need to be so gentle, you can hold on tighter than that.”

Soon, they were riding together across the courtyard to meet the knights, who were waiting for them outside the gates.

“Took you long enough,” said Charlie as they approached.

“We had horse trouble.”

“Right. Of course.”

They began riding through the town and out of the city, the forest surrounding getting thicker and thicker. The five of them all laughed and joked together; sure, they were all important parts of the royal household but beneath their sophisticated jobs, they were all just good friends. Charlie and Neil had become friends the moment they met when they were young boys, and with Ginny being so close to Neil already, she got dragged into the friendship, too. Soon enough, they were all teenagers and the boys had befriended the rest of the knights and they became one big group. Ginny loved them all dearly, loved spending time with them outside of the context of ruling the kingdom; but she not as much as she loved spending time with Chris. Sometimes they got too boisterous, and all Ginny wanted was to sit in her room with her maid, both of them doing each other’s hair and talking about everything and nothing.

Now, they were riding through the forest together, Charlie and Ginny and Chris side by side at the front of the group, and Meeks and Pitts taking up the rear.

“So what ‘important knightly duties’ have we dragged you three out of for this?” Ginny asked, an almost mocking tone to her voice.

“Just our daily training session with Neil.”

“Wow, he actually let you miss a session?”

“See, Ginny, we didn’t exactly want to miss it,” Pitts chimed in from the back of the group. “But Chris said you were offering food up, so…”

That was the easiest way to get the knights to do anything. Offer them food, or a way to disobey the king.

“Well, thank you, nonetheless. I may be highly skilled with a sword, but I can’t say fighting with one is exactly my intention for the day.”

Still riding beside her, Charlie was close enough to lean over and whisper a question only Ginny could hear. Luckily, Chris seemed busy looking around her at the beauty of the forest, distracted by a bird in a nearby tree.

“And what exactly is the intention?” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing smirk growing on her face. Ginny really should never have told him about her feelings for Chris. All he’d done was mock her – lovingly, of course, but still.

“Oh shut up,” was all Ginny could reply, subtly turning her head to check that Chris was still zoned out and hadn’t heard. She seemed to be. She had also, however, leaned her head into the crook of Ginny’s neck, which she as desperately trying to ignore. Chris really wasn’t helping her keep her feelings secret, was she?

After at least 15 minutes of riding through the forest, gossiping with the knights about the king, Neil and Todd and the other knights, and having such an intense fit of laughter at one point that all of them nearly fell off their horses, they came upon a small clearing. Wild violets grew scattered around the patch of grass and the sunlight shone through the gap in the trees. The battlements of the castle were faintly visible above the top of the forest.

“This look like a good spot, my ladies.”

It was the perfect spot.

“Absolutely. Now, are you three going to stay close?” Ginny asked.

“Yep. We’ll stand guard around the clearing, don’t worry,” Pitts replied.

“Maybe a but further into the woods than that, Pittsie! Give them some privacy, you know.” Charlie turned to face Ginny and winked.

Ginny could have strangled him. Not that she would, of course. She loved him too much for that. But she wished she could do it in spirit. She prayed Chris hadn’t seen.

As Charlie and Pitts began looking for a spot to keep watch from, Meeks helped the girls down from their horse. He took both Hermia and his own horse by their reins and lead them away to follow the others.

“Enjoy your picnic!, remember to save some food for us!” he called before he disappeared into the woods.

Chris set the picnic basket down on the grass, detaching a soft lilac blanket from where it was tied to the back of it with leather straps. Wordlessly, Ginny held out her hand and Chris handed her two corners, taking the other two herself and the two of them gently laid the blanket onto the ground, careful to avoid the violets that appeared to be everywhere around them. They sat down, Ginny cross-legged and Chris with her feet on the blanket and her knees up. She tried not to pay attention to the way Ginny was sat so close that her knee was brushing her thigh.

“Let’s get the food out,” Chris said, more trying to distract herself than anything else.

There was more food in the basket than seemed physically possible: all different types of fruits and sandwiches and other baked goods. Ginny reached for a strawberry, taking a bite of it, and humming in pleasure at the taste.

“These might be the sweetest strawberries I’ve ever had, Chris! Where did you get them?”

“Palace kitchens,” Chris shrugged.

“I’ve never had strawberries from the kitchens! Not ones this good at least.”

“I may have stolen them from what was supposed to be the king’s lunch…”

“Oh you little rebel,” Ginny grinned.

Chris had taken a sandwich and was slowly eating it, gently carding her hands through the patch of flowers right beside her. Here eyes seemed to widen with an idea.

“Gin, we should make flower crowns! My mother taught me how to make them when I was little, I could show you if you’d like!”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea!”

“I really want to make one with these beauties,” Chris indicated to the violet patch. “But you should make one with daisies. The stems are easier to work with.”

Soon enough, the two of them were sat opposite each other on the picnic blanket, two piles of flowers beside them. Chris picked two of the violets up, slowly demonstrating to Ginny the way to thread together each stem.

“You just keep adding flowers like this until it’s the length you need, it’s easy once you get used to it. I’ll show you how to close it off when we get there.”

Ginny nodded. If she was being honest, she was probably focusing more on the fact that Chris’s nimble fingers looked so pretty tying the stems together than on what she was actually demonstrating, but she got the idea.

“Like this?” she asked, after replicating what Chris had done with the violets on her daisies.

“Yeah, that’s it! Just keep adding them, now.”

They must have spent half an hour in content silence, just threading flowers together. Unbeknownst to each other, both of them had taken a few moments of that time just to admire the other person, watching them work, all the emotions showing in the look in their eyes. They had made eye contact a couple of times, and both had simply smiled at each other or giggled quietly. Chris was a lot further into her project than Ginny was, being much more experienced with the craft.

“The one with violets in her lap,” Ginny muttered, looking across at Chris with the bundle of perfectly threaded bright purple flowers lying on her knee as she struggled with a stubborn stem.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a line from a poem Neil told me about the other day. It fits you.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish I could tell you the rest of it. It was written by an Ancient Greek poet, so we only have fragments of her works.”

“That’s…oddly sad.”

“I know. She was nicknamed the Tenth Muse, too. It would be incredible if we could read her full poems, know her mind even better.”

Chris hummed in agreement, focusing once again on the flower that didn’t seem to want to thread into the rest of the crown.

She finally fixed it in, sighing in relief.

“Can I check if it’s the right size?” she asked, holding it out towards Ginny.

“Of course,” Ginny replied, placing her work in progress down in front of her and lifting her head up.

Chris moved so that she was sat behind her, placing the crown on her head and checking the ends met at the back.

“Perfect,” Chris said, and Ginny could feel her breath on the back of her neck. She fought back a slight shiver.

“Here, I know you’re not quite done yet, but I’ll show you how to close off the crown.”

Chris held the ring of violets out in front of her, demonstrating the specific way of threading the final stem into the first.

“I think I get it?”

Chris grinned at her, then leaned forward and placed the crown onto Ginny’s head. Their faces were so close at that point, all it would take would be a slight push forward from either of them and they would be-

“Can I measure this on you?” Ginny asked, ignoring the thoughts in the forefront of her mind at that moment.

“Sure.”

Chris turned around so that Ginny could copy what she had done a few minutes before, holding the daisies around her head. Her hands brushed Chris’s hair in the process, and it was so soft. Ginny thought she would do anything to run her hands through it. The crown fit perfectly.

“It fits,” Ginny said, and Chris turned around to face her again. “How do you connect it again?”

“Here, I’ll help.”

Ginny expected her to take the daisies from her hand and finish it herself, but instead she held Ginny’s hands, guiding her to where to thread the stem. She was trying and failing to concentrate on what to do rather than the feeling of Chris’s hands on hers so softly.

“There you go. Finished.”

The two girls smiled at one another for a long moment, then Ginny reached up to place the crown on Chris’s head. The slight pink tint of the inside of the petals matched her blonde hair perfectly, and she looked like a living embodiment of the sun. One of the daisies in the chain hadn’t been secured in fully, so it fell across her forehead haphazardly. She still looked perfect.

They had realised they’d all but forgotten about the food, so Chris offered Ginny more strawberries, which she gladly accepted. Chris caught herself staring at the gorgeous woman sitting beside her, paying close attention to the way her nose scrunched up slightly when she smiled at the taste of the fruit; the way the late morning sunlight reflected off her eyes, making their green-blue colour shimmer like the ocean; the way her soft dark hair- oh.

In the midst of her staring, Chris noticed something in Ginny’s hair – some kind of tiny insect that must have crawled out of one of the violets on her head.

“Oh, Ginny, hold on a second. I think there’s an ant in your hair.”

Ginny laughed slightly, her eyes moving upwards as if to look at the tiny reddish bug. Chris, hesitant as she was, shuffled closer to her, her hand reaching up to gently pick the ant out of her hair. Ginny’s eyes fluttered closed the closer her hand got to her face. It took a few tries, but she got it out, setting the insect down on a leaf within arm’s reach of the blanket.

Ginny watched her as she did so, her hands so delicate as not to harm the ant. She saw her lips quirk up into a tiny smile once it was safely on the leaf. It was only when Chris turned back to face her that Ginny fully comprehended the position they were in, yet again. They were so close, even closer than they had been when they crowned each other with flowers; Chris lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, Ginny sat only a few inches from her, leaning back on her hands. She couldn’t think what to do: she didn’t want to move; she didn’t think she could; but being this close to her maid meant all Ginny could do was stare at her.

Ginny was sure her feelings for Chris were slowly getting stronger as time went on – it was definitely getting more and more obvious to those around them, that’s for sure. Neil and Todd both knew, and so did half of the knights (perhaps not Knox though, he was a little slow in that area). She honestly didn’t know how Chris herself hadn’t figured it out yet, especially now in this moment, where Ginny’s gaze couldn’t help but move to Chris’s lips, soft as they always looked, soft as Ginny had always imagined they’d feel against her own.

“Ginny?” Chris’s voice broke her from the moment, and she panicked she’d noticed her staring, and was about to say something that would mean they would never be the same again. Ginny quickly looked back up to Chris’s eyes, anxiety filling both her heart and mind.

But Chris’s eyes weren’t looking into hers. They were looking lower, at her lips. Her breathing seemed somewhat laboured, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“Strange request, but…” she paused momentarily. “Can I-“

Ginny’s mind was racing, but she knew what Chris was asking. Before she could even finish the question, Ginny replied.

“Yes.”

Time seemed to slow down as Chris moved forward slightly and closed the small gap between them, tiny gasps leaving both of their mouths as their lips connected. They were just as soft as Ginny had expected, as soft as she’d dreamed they would be in the many times she’d daydreamed this event. In the heat of the moment, Chris lost balance on her elbow and fell backwards so she was lying on her back on the blanket, her daisy crown falling off her head. Neither of them cared; Ginny simply followed until she was practically on top of her, the kiss deepening as a result of the change.

Eventually, the need to breathe interrupted their moment and Ginny slowly lifted her head.

“You taste like strawberries,” Chris exhaled, barely audible.

Ginny just laughed softly; It was the only thing she could think of to do in that moment. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her again.

“I’m glad I came on this picnic with you, Gin.”

“Me too.”

She leaned down again, her fingers finally able to brush through her silky hair. This time, Ginny pressed a soft kiss to Chris’s nose and admired the way her eyelashes fluttered slightly as her eyes closed, before moving her kisses elsewhere: Chris’s cheeks; forehead; jaw; sternum, just above her delicately sewn blush pink corset. Ginny seemed intent on kissing every inch of the other woman’s face, committing it to memory. If she had the time, or indeed the artistic skill, she would have spent hours painting her; recreating the gorgeous patterns of steel grey in her irises, the tiny, excited smile on her lips, the soft curls of blonde hair that fell over her face. She would paint it all, ensure she would never leave her mind for even a moment.

Just as Ginny moved her kisses back to Chris’s lips once more, there was the snap of a branch behind them, and they jumped apart quickly.

“Hate to interrupt this clearly incredible moment between the two of you, my ladies, but Meeks and Pitts have spotted a bandit camp about a mile north.”

Charlie.

“So, unless you want to be interrupted by an ambush instead, we’d best be going.”

“Of course,” Ginny replied, trying to ignore the embarrassment of the moment and comprehend the situation. “Could you ready the horses? Chris and I will pack up.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Charlie gave a small bow and turned to leave, but instead faced the two women once more, a playful grin on his face.

“Also, I thought I was promised food from this picnic for skipping an important training session to be here protecting you?”

Ginny thought for a moment, then lobbed a bread roll at him. It hit him in the chest, but he caught it nonetheless, nodding and leaving.

“Damn bandits,” Ginny swore under her breath, just loud enough for Chris to hear.

“You know,” Chris picked up her daisy crown and replaced it on her head, then moved to take Ginny’s hands in her own. “There are still no plans for the rest of the day. We could spend it together if you’d like.”

Ginny just smiled, pressing a quick but heated kiss to Chris’s lips before they began packing away the picnic basket and blanket.

The ride back to Camelot was oddly quieter than the journey there, likely because the knights had noticed the subtly different way Chris and Ginny seemed to look at each other, or the way Chris was much more comfortable sitting behind Ginny on the horse, holding her waist tighter.

Charlie leaned over to Ginny, whispering once again.

“Nice headpiece by the way. Interesting choice, violets,” he grinned at her knowingly.

“Shut up.”

Ginny couldn’t help the smile growing on her own face, too.

#when is it my turn to make flower crowns and recite poetry in a meadow with someone :((#also apologies if theyre slightly ooc??#i may have had them take on some of morgana and gwens personalities :')#anyway this is my fav one ive written and im probably gonna continue the au ngl #dps #dead poets society #dps fandom #dps fanfic #chris noel #ginny danburry #chrisginny #chrisginnyweek

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