#Visitor Engagement within Museums

[kedsandtubesocks]

cosmic love

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

tags & warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS. time travel AU, magic elements, pining & yearning, fluff but with touches of angst, implied age gap (Acacius being older than both reader & Marcus), light use of gendered language, bi!Marcus Acacius & bi!Marcus Pike, brief mention of death & existential questioning, spicy themes, smut (threesome, m!oral, one moment of spitting) M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, no use of y/n

word count: 7.5k

a/n: I’m sorry I blame the gladiator statue pics we got & yeah now here we are lmao, this fic literally wouldn’t be here without @pedgito & @perotovar - i can’t thank you two enough for all the help i love y’all tremendously, also a sweet special tag for @morallyinept ily too… And lastly - thank you for reading, you’re what makes this so special and magical ♡

The statue that arrived with the newly updated Roman exhibition at your museum has gained attention.

As a guide you enjoy seeing all the new faces here to check out the freshly opened installation. The heightened foot traffic has kept you and your co-workers busy, but it’s been a nice welcome.

Your eyes drift to the statue now.

General Marcus Acacius stands slightly weathered yet still commanding in his bronze glory, towering among the room with all the grace a powerful Roman Army commander would be.

You learned he conquered countless territories and countries in the name of the Ancient Roman Empire. Eventually though, he was caught in a conspiracy to overthrow the ruling emperors and died within the eyes of the coliseum, the whisper of a gladiator’s death.

Now you readily explain this all to tour groups like the one you currently guide.

“Oh, he’s cute.” One of the elementary school girls currently giggles to her friend. The other school children gasp around her, teasing her.

“It’s okay. He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” You reassure her. The girl seems bashful but relieved at your agreement.

It wasn’t just you. A local internet influencer stopped by and even made a video about the statue being her dream guy.

Even as a statue, the General is eye-catching.

The bronze figure captured his likeness bewitchingly detailing the soft curls of his hair, a lovely sharp nose, mountainous strong broad shoulders, and a pensive stare looking out to a distant horizon. He’s a man of unwavering beauty.

You constantly want to smack yourself for being wistful over a piece of art.

“He’s definitely the most attractive statue I’ve seen.” A familiar smooth sweet voice melts into the room’s quiet softness making your heart jump.

Approaching you with a molten smile and eyes twinkling in the low museum lights, Marcus doesn’t seem real at times.

A regular visitor, you first met him when he accidentally crashed one of your tours. Wholesomely thoughtful, but also being a charming yet slightly know it all, he was quick to join in on commentary of the paintings. With his Disney prince-like smile and earnest eager energy, you couldn’t dare shoo him away.

Now you happily seek his company.

“He’s become like a hot new celebrity here.” Joking, you nudge towards the General’s striking figure.

“I can see why.” Marcus whistles low. “Like look at those shoulders.”

You snicker as a bubbling fondness swells in you.

“He unfortunately died a tragic death.” Marcus comments, cloudy and mournful.

“Yeah, I heard. That means this guy is a bad boy.” You nod.

Marcus snickers at your comment then playfully nudges you with his elbow.

Later, all your co-workers beg you to ask him out to coffee.

“He’s totally got the hots for you!” Your favorite co worker often tells you, but you wave her off.

Marcus is just sweet. He’s kind and considerate, engaging to all the workers here. Besides, you don’t want to assume he possibly likes you and maybe ruin the precious friendship you have with him.

However, your favorite coworker shows up a few days later with a solution for your stale love life.

With a cheeky bright grin, she hands you the cutest pink velvet pouch in the break room.

“It’s called a love wish tea.” She declares.

She grabbed a pack of them at the local occult shop after the lovely witch who owned the place swore it worked.

“It calls in your heart’s desires and hey, it worked for me! That’s why I still have a pack left over!” She proudly recommends.

You roll your eyes but appreciate the gift.

Shoving it into your bag, you don’t give it much thought.

Then the cooler cozier weather settles in, the perfect time for museum dates. Strolling along the floors keeping a watch on everyone it’s hard not to notice the intake of couples. Some are intertwined beside each other staring fondly at a painting together, while others happily take photos of the other being silly.

A taste of loneliness fills you, but gently you sweep it away focusing back on work. Especially since tonight you’ll be locking up.

Already craving some extra caffeine, you glare seeing the break room depleted of any sweet salvation.

The small velvet pink bag in your bag immediately comes to mind. And at this point you think, why not. it will at least keep you awake.

Immediately out of the pouch the tea bag releases a soothing smell, a rich floral blending with delicate touches of a fruit scent, possibly pomegranate. You’re now excited just to taste it, love wish or not.

The tea steeps in your tumbler cup allowing a faint rose color to float into your water. Of course the tea is pretty too.

And the taste? Rich, lovely and warm, like a romantic valentine-like themed drink. It doesn’t reward you with a sensation of being in love, but instead you feel at peace.

After a few sips, you return to the floor.

There, Marcus sits on one of the benches in the Roman exhibition.

Curled over a leather sketchbook, he’s every bit the personification of a scholarly beautiful artist straight out of a romance novel. His face glanced up then back down to his sketch. Diligent concentration paints over his gorgeous face.

Cautious, yet eager, you approach.

He’s sketching a portrait of the General. The sharp edges of the charcoal, the smudges meant to mimic shadows, along with capturing the striking slopes of the General’s features - it’s fantastic.

“You’re amazing!”

Your compliment causes him to jolt slightly spooked, and you rapidly apologize. Once he catches sight of you, Marcus sighs with a dreamy relieved sleepy grin.

“Just sketching, nothing too crazy.”

You take a seat besides him on the bench.

“You captured his likeness so well already.” You’re in awe at the sketch.

Marcus laughs a bit nervously. It’s hard trying not to swoon at the light rose blush coloring his cheeks. He’s stunning.

“I bet General Acacius would be flattered.” You grin then glance back to the statue.

Marcus turns to follow your sight.

“Nah, he strikes me as a big relief fan.” Marcus comments thoughtfully.

The bad art joke isn’t lost on you, and you snicker beside him. Among the giggles you catch Marcus staring at you, the softest boyish grin tugging his lips.

The world melts into a splendid focus all on him.

This isn’t good. You can’t be thinking about possibly leaning in to kiss cute visitors while you’re still on the clock.

“Hey… so I’ve been meaning to ask if maybe we could-”

His phone ringing cuts Marcus off causing you to shoot up from the bench. Jumping on the call, Marcus seems apologetic and almost sad as you wave him bye to him.

Closing time approaches. You and your co-workers do one final look around the rooms. Marcus is nowhere to be found.

The Roman exhibition now sits sleepily still.

The dim glow coats the general’s statue, a glistening chopper. Even with the chips and weathering of time, he stands glorious as you stroll closer.

He really must have been something fierce for the empire to immortalize him in such grand fashion.

“You must’ve been a pretty amazing man.” You mutter mainly to yourself, gently touching the base of the elevated display platform he rests upon.

You wish him a good night and head home. You try not to think of stunning statues or cute museum visitors.

Next morning you’re woken up by a call from work, a frantic one.

“The fucking hot ass statue is missing.” Your co-worker hisses.

You don’t believe it till you see it.

But you’re knocked breathless at the sight.

General Marcus Acacius is missing. The once grand presence he added to the room is absent, vanished, as if plucked from the air itself.

It’s almost unnerving to see the once elevated space now hauntingly vacant.

Chaos brews humming all around. Copes scurry around everywhere, and plenty of people stand outside curious to what’s going on. A controlled whirlwind fills your museum. Various officers keep the scene roped off.

The museum decides to close for the rest of the week to let the police handle as much as they can. You adore the museum truly, but there’s one spot you love the most. Right by the break room leading from various different doors is an outdoor courtyard. It’s become a place of solace.

The bubbling dread has you stepping out here one more time. The sky above looms with a cold front approaching and casts a somber shadow over the space even more.

The shrubs rustle off the side among the thick greenery, and you figure it’s a bird.

“It’s you.” Until a new voice speaks to you. Rich, heavily accented and smooth, it startles you.

You wonder if you’re imagining things.

The man is dressed in Roman attire, elaborate white armor adorned with ornate gold pieces. Glorious graying curls frame his ethereal aged face.

How did a cosplayer manage to sneak in?

He stares so directly at you it frightens you a bit.

“You’re the one who’s voice I heard…” he continues to speak. “It was like I was asleep, drifting away. Then you woke me.”

“Sir, how did you manage to get in here?” You ask, trying to stay as calm as you can.

“I do not know. I simply woke and found myself in this strange place.” He explains with a furrowed brow.

You wonder…is this a strange bit the museum is maybe trying to pull off, and they didn’t tell you.

He steps forward now, and instinctively you walk back cautious. The man must take in your reaction because his face, his handsome face that now looks vaguely familiar, frowns. He holds his hands up defensively.

“I mean no harm. I just need to know what happened to me.”

Someone calls out your name, sounds like your boss. “Come on let’s head out.”

The stranger repeats it and how smooth his voice is, your name rolls off his tongue.

“I am General Marcus Acacius, and I am in need of your assistance.”

That makes your brain scratch.

“Wait, what?” You turn to him confused. “What did you say your name was again?”

He repeats it firmer.

Marcus Acacius.

As in… General Marcus Acacius.

There’s no way.

“Oh, so you’re an actor.” You deadpan.

“I…am confused? I’m no performer. I promise you that.” He almost sounds huffy.

You gotta give him credit. The guy stays in character pretty well.

“You shouldn’t be here, actor or not.” You tell him, heading back inside. Of course this man follows you in.

At the sight of the glass door and the movement of it, he pauses stunned, like he can’t process it. You almost want to laugh.

“You’re pretty good, even though you say you’re not an actor.” You tease.

He frowns hard not enjoying that.

“Either tell me what is going on or I will find a man who will.” He snaps loud and your eyes go wide.

His memorizing face scrunches up in frustration. Dark amber eyes are coated in fierce anger.

“I wake up in a strange place filled with artifacts and see people dressed strange. What is going on?” His voice rises confused, panicking.

Either he’s the most amazing actor ever or…

No.

It can’t be.

Too many thoughts swirl in your head like angry bees trying to make your brain explode.

You need a minute. So you grab the mystery man’s arm, practically dragging him to follow you.

“Excuse you? Where are you taking me?” He demands.

“Somewhere safe.” You half lie.

Unfortunately your boss stops you. His worried eyes catch sight of the man in the armor. You’re quick to explain he’s an actor, upset about the missing statue.

“I am not a-”

You shush the strange man harshly. Your boss, hesitant and worried, surveys him.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Your boss says firm.

“Yup, and I was just showing him the way out.” You happily explain.

Thankfully your boss gets called away, and you make your escape.

“Are you abducting me?” He demands harder.

“Look, I’m the only one here who might be able to help you.” You hiss back.

“I am the commanding General of the Roman armies.” His voice blooms stronger when you reach the lobby. “I will find my way around.”

You swallow hard. A small but chaotic idea quickly jumps into your mind, and you decide to put it into action.

So, you hold the exit door open for him. The man nods to you, then strolls out. You follow him.

The towering skyscrapers, the rush of the cars, the stretching concrete roads, it becomes an overwhelming sight while the man whips his face around eyes wide and in shock. His face falls, aghast and disoriented.

That unrealistic conclusion you thought of - you think it might not be so realistic. Because the man turns to you wearing petrified horror, terrified confusion of a man in an unknown world that no actor could truly capture.

Reality smacks into you like a bag of nails.

This man is truly the great General Marcus Acacius.

The missing statue now full man summoned to life.

Someone yells your name.

Your heart drops. Of course Marcus arrives at the worst time. He jogs up to you dressed in what looks like a gym outfit.

“I heard about the statue.” He says worried then his eyes immediately grow cloudy and confused as he catches sight of the strange Roman dressed man.

“Is he… a friend of yours?” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“It’s complicated.” You blurt, panicked.

General Acacius stands still very stunned trying to take this new modern world in. Stumbling, he returns to your side, clutching your arm like you’re the only one who can steady him.

“I…” Acacius begins then stops mid word, still trying to process a reply. Until he catches sight of Marcus.

“You,” The man surveys Marcus with narrowing eyes. “You seem familiar as well.”

This is getting out of hand.

“Okay time to go.” You rapidly try diffusing the situation, moving General Acacius away from Marcus.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Marcus questions, persistently following behind while you head to the parking lot.

You scramble out a lie that the strange man is an old friend you ran into who just came back from a play.

“I told you, I’m no performer.” Acacius insists still. You also discover he’s built like a wall and trying to wrangle him into the car proves to be Herculean.

Swiftly, Marcus firmly snaps out your name. His tone is different, urgent and enforcing. It turns you into a statue yourself.

Comedically, you’re practically halfway shoving Acacius into the car but now stand frozen. He notices the shift in tension quickly.

“Are you frightened of him?” Acacius mutters concern, surprisingly concerned. “Because I can dispose of this man.”

You shake your head no.

Swallowing hard, you finally look Marcus dead in the eyes.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You admit.

“Try me.” Marcus rebuffs, serious as steel.

So you sigh, what more do you have to lose now?

“General, can you please tell him who you are.” You then allow Acacius to speak for himself.

The ancient Roman clears his throat and announces his full title and name. The younger and modern Marcus’s face twists confused with a hint of concern.

Suddenly his eyes go wide. He catches on fast, figures it out quicker than you did that’s for sure.

This cute casual museum visitor you have a slight crush on is now your accomplice and partner in crime.

At least…now you don't have to deal with an ancient Roman General being brought back to life from stone alone.

— °˖➴ —

Marcus’s apartment is lush and cozy, filled with so many books and records. The warm walls, sleek modern design, make your place feel like a hole in the wall. Having a roommate, you couldn’t just bring home a very confused man out of time. So thankfully Marcus offered his home.

Now you’ve practically been living here with General Acacius trying to figure out what happened.

Acacius takes things rather well, almost in stride. Fitting for a general that explored new territories and had to face the unknown chaos of war.

The fridge fascinates him the most. You had to stop yourself from laughing seeing him open and close the refrigerator door like a child wondering if the food inside would disappear.

Marcus has a vice for candy, specifically sour ones. Seeing General Acacius try one and the disgusted face of twisted torture is a memory you’ve replayed over multiple times.

But unfortunately no one can figure out what brought the statue to life and him here.

“I’m a man. Not a statue.” The roman general clarifies.

“You are now, but we gotta figure out why.” You sigh exhausted while Marcus readies breakfast for everyone.

He’s been an incredible host. It’s been hard not lingering on how domestic and warm he is within his own space.

Especially when there’s also an archaic man looking just as handsome walking around in a tight white t shirt Marcus lent him.

Surrounded by two unbelievably gorgeous men has been a double edged sword, a blessing and curse.

General Acacius reminds you of a mountain, ever powerful, sturdy and unwavering with the change of seasons. Yet there’s still an open vulnerability to him. You’ve seen it in how grateful he’s been and how eagerly he’s tried absorbing all about this new world.

Whereas Marcus reminds you of a river, beautifully flowing, always adaptable. But he surprises you with how direct and firm he’s been, almost protective in keeping you and Acacius safe.

You also don’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes sometimes flicker to sneak a glance at the older General. You can’t blame him.

Acacius fills out modern clothes sinfully. Watching him navigate everything with a certain poised grace is attractive. While Marcus has become endearing and patient, incredibly welcoming to this new hiccup in his life. You haven't felt this comfortable with someone in so long.

Truly a river and mountain now exist in your life, and you want to stay in their atmosphere more and more.

But you can’t get tangled in the budding emotions growing for these men.

You need to figure out how to help Acacius.

“Once I get back to the office, I’m hoping I can try to find something that could maybe help.” Marcus clarifies while grabbing his work bag.

You’ve learned much about him these past few days. Like he enjoys a good run, used to be a swimmer, has a soft spot for strays, surprisingly loves football -

Also that he’s a well known FBI agent.

You realized you never once asked what he did for work, and you’ve known him for months.

“You have feelings for that man.” Acacius announces once it’s you and him alone in the apartment. You almost spit out your drink.

“We’re friends, that’s all.” You huff.

This Marcus doesn’t seem to believe you, and gives you a very modern dry eyed side glare that makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you, the look of a man in love.” Acacius continues.

“Well I see the way he stares at you too, pal.” You reply back before you can even realize what you said.

Your words do their job stunning the general.

“He is too young for an old man like me.” Acacius rapidly fires back.

“You’re not that old.” You clarify. “If anything you’re distinguished, mature.”

“You are too kind, dear lady.” He chuckles.

You ignore how fast warmth spreads through you a dangerous wildfire just hearing him.

Your phone ringing makes poor Acacius jump. Though, it’s progress from the confused shout he used to yell whenever the phones rang.

Your boss explains that unfortunately the museum will have to stay closed the rest of the month for further investigations, and everyone’s information has been sent in to check for any suspicious activities.

It sounded serious.

Dead serious because after that phone call, you get called by the police department to head in for a few questions.

You have nothing to hide, except you did.

Because in theory you technically did and didn’t steal the statue. You just know the cops wouldn’t take your explanation.

The interrogation room you sit in is coated in a bleak serious air making you fidget worried. This is also the first time you left General Acacius alone at the apartment and that worry picks at you.

Then two officers walk in. One an older distinguished woman who gives you a nod then the other… a rather striking man.

Hawkish nose, clean shaven face, kind eyes, he smiles soft at you.

Marcus.

The agent that walked in is Marcus.

You try not to stare, but it’s hard. Dressed in an official suit and tie, the badge he wears, he sits across for you a striking professional handsome agent.

The woman introduces herself as one of the head local detectives of the case and the man accompanying her is from the FBI, specifically the head of the art crimes division.

Marcus wasn’t just an agent but someone that important.

You can’t deny how extra attractive it makes him.

“Agent Marcus Pike.” Polite and sweet he outstretches his arm to shake your hand like you’ve never met him before.

The questions are very basic.

Where were you the last time you saw the statue? Do you remember any recent guest that stopped by that maybe seemed suspicious?

You answer as truthfully and as best as you can, while also hiding the ancient Roman sized man truth away.

“Funny enough,” Agent Pike comments. “It does seem like this statue just seems to have…I don’t know, grown legs and walked out itself.”

You weakly laugh at his joke. You don’t miss the tug of his lips trying not to grin.

You leave the room as if you stepped out of a strange pocket dimension. Then again these past few days have felt strange and disorienting.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the head of some FBI art division?!” You let Marcus have it when you both return back to his apartment.

“Is that dangerous?” Acacius asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” You sigh.

“No…This is good.” Marcus clarifies. He even picked up apology pastries. General Acacius greedily snags a cheese danish and moans in pure delight once he takes a bite.

It’s hard to ignore how incredibly sexy he sounded.

“It means I can keep looking in my records for any previous instances of situations like this, or if there’s any leads on the case I’ll know.” Marcus patiently explains.

That calms you enough.

Days pass, and Acacius grows restless.

He doesn’t sleep well, snapping at you and Marcus often more. He mourns the loss of a world that’s passed, of a wife he lost. The grief comes in waves. You and Marcus try comforting him, but Acacius reminds you of a caged tiger, restless and fanged. You understand. Being cooped up in a strange home in a strange world must be exhausting.

So Marcus and you agree to have a nice weekend out with him.

General Acacius fidgets in the cozy cream knit sweater that stretches over his broad body, but damn does he look incredible. So does Marcus in his scholarly sleek coat.

This trip also works as another opportunity to do more investigating. The nearby bookstore is the first stop. Acacius gasps seeing the stretch of books.

“Pretty impressive, yeah?” Marcus smirks, and you grin agreeing. He decides to take a look at the art history books here for any information he might have missed.

You unfortunately get side tracked with the many books in front of you and slightly wander away from Acacius when one catches your eyes.

But you quickly find your way back to him.

The elder Marcus stands stunned like a ghost among the classical literature holding a thick encyclopedia.

“I knew of what happened to Rome after you and Pike told me. But seeing the grand colosseum like this… it’s a specter of ruins now.” He mutters while taking in the photo of the ancient landmark.

“I am glad. There should be no need for more death matches.” His voice weighs with the heaviness of centuries past.

You agree, happy he shuts the book and returns it back. You’re about to dive into the Ancient Rome section yourself now until he speaks again.

“What if I am not the same man these books speak of?” The older Marcus questions hollowed.

That stuns you.

“What if the man who died many years ago… is not me?” His voice wavers.

Existential dread looms off him a dark storm growing stronger.

Marcus turns the corner smiling bright. But quickly he immediately notices the shift in atmosphere, and his face falls as he mouths asking what’s wrong.

You let General Acacius speak from the heart.

“What if… I am not me? What if I am not the real Marcus Acacius?”

His face is weighted with fear, raw and open making him appear lost and so small for someone powerful as him.

“I believe it’s you.” You reassure him gentle. “I’m sure Marcus does too. Besides… who says you can’t be the same man?”

There are pieces of yourself that you’ve left with people, even some bits of you have gotten snagged in certain places or tied to certain objects. Who says a piece of Marcus Acacius truly resided in the statue and simply woke up. And if that’s the case, then that means he’s as real as ever.

You explain all of this best as you can to Acacius. Those deep steady eyes of his waver transforming into molten earth. Your hand moves down to squeeze his stronger large warm hand.

He squeezes back tight.

“Besides the man that died is still you too. You’re allowed to be both.” Marcus jumps in with the most tender voice

“That does not sound true.” Acacius mutters.

As modern has he’s slowly become, you think it still might be too hard to explain dimensional or reality theory.

“This philosopher I read about once said something along the lines of, if you think, therefore you are.” Marcus clarifies. “You exist here and now. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

You realize both you and Marcus slowly have huddled around General Acacius. You on one side and Marcus on the other, barricade to support your General as much as you or Marcus can.

Acacius sighs, watery, taking it all in.

Your heart aches for him. It overwhelms you, causing you to gently rest your head against his shoulder and letting your hand rest on his back.

Marcus also moves closer, placing his hand right besides yours, gingerly touching your hand.

Among the books you and these two rest simply in the stillness of the moment. You feel something hook deep in your chest, a feeling you can’t fully express.

After, Marcus treats everyone to his favorite taco truck. It's infectious seeing Acacius’s spirits brighten again. He again moans delicious when he takes his first bite. You don’t miss the awkward cough Marcus makes.

But the tacos are amazing and the cooler weather covers everything in a comforting dreamy cloud.

“I want to explore this world as much as I can.” Acacius declares with resolution and shining gilded hope.

So you start bringing the Roman general out with you more.

The museum is still being investigated, so you take the chance to enjoy the days, especially now with Marcus Acacius by your side. He enjoys your smaller apartment, becomes a fan of cooking shows fast.

Marcus and you discovered he isn’t big on sushi but has a notorious sweet tooth. Acacius embraces everything now with more gusto, a vibrant curiosity about many things, especially food. It’s endearing.

General Acacius also proves to be a lovely companion when you go grocery shopping.

“So many spices.” He says in awe in the aisle.

More people arrive and you try maneuvering your cart through the traffic. General Acacius catches on quick. Staying close to you, he places a comforting hand at your lower back and the other against yours in the cart. Shifting his body against yours, he’s a protective shield until you’re out of the thicket.

It sends the wildest hum of sparks throughout your body that persistently stays. Acacius stays firmly beside the rest of the trip.

For a man out of time, he’s open for conversation. The check out worker seems to blatantly ignore you while she happily and very openly flirts with him.

You don’t say much, ignoring the possessive emerald eyed sense of jealousy threatening to rise. He bids the flirty cashier a good day along with an elegant head nod. You keep quiet heading back to the car.

“That woman, she gave me a strange note with numbers on it.” General Acacius comments cautious, almost worried about what they could be.

You almost trip on the way out.

“Her number, she gave you her phone number.” You explain simply.

Of course you have to elaborate what that means and how it’s a modern way of signaling someone is attracted to you.

“Truly?” His handsome aged face scrunches up confused.

“What can I say? In any year you’re a catch.” You try not to sound wistful.

“I’m an old man not from this time. I have nothing worth for anyone to desire me.” Now he sounds dejected, somber and serious.

“Okay, besides being absolutely one of the most gorgeous men ever, you’re kind. Incredibly loyal and brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Earnesty floats off you.

His face drops, your words finally settling within him. The soft streams of grays in his luscious curled hair and rustic beard, the beautiful scars he wears that tell of his victories…

The statue truly was not able to capture the magnetic pull of this man.

Acacius’s eyes flicker across your face. You swear something shimmers in his deep earth eyes. His gaze flickers down for a split moment, as if he’s glancing at your lips.

Then your phone rings with a text, and you sigh.

This precious bubble you’ve been in, this newly woven existence with these two gorgeous men, is one you want to stay in forever. It’s warm, easy, and feels too nice to leave.

But work eventually crashes in.

The museum finally reopens but with the Roman exhibit closed still. The missing art has brought in more foot traffic to the museum. But what surprises you is seeing Marcus at work now while he works. You and him share sweet secret smiles to each other.

Even with work getting busy for you and him, you’ve been texting with Marcus frequently. It’s even been amusing being on the phone with him and Acacius cries out surprised hearing your voice.

Your mind drifts to them again as you daze off a bit at work.

“So, did you ever drink that tea I gave you?” Your favorite coworker asks, interrupting your daydream.

The confusion must be evident on your face.

“Ya know… the sweet love wish tea?” She grins like a pleased cat that’s about to catch a canary.

An abrupt realization barrels right into you, a fierce horned bull almost knocking you out at the knees. You can’t believe a possible magical tea maybe brought a statue to life. But with that statue now a very real ancient Roman man you’ve been harboring - anything is possible now.

“Can you tell me where the shop is that you got it?” You rapidly ask her.

Your next day off you head down there immediately, not even taking either of your Marcus boys.

The sweetest shop owner greets you warm and welcoming. You compliment her lovely silvery lavender hair.

“Oh it’s to hide the grays.” She winks, and you grin.

But the nervousness rises because you don’t even know how to approach the question you have.

“Something seems to be bothering you.” Of course she notices but speaks with a gentle tone.

Your heavy sigh must say it all. Very sweetly she pulls out a stool by the register and settles in waiting to hear your story.

Even with her welcoming smile, the hesitation pulls at you. But you manage to gently explain what happened without revealing the dizzying truth.

“So I drank the love wish tea. And something… someone I never imagined would come into my life did. So now I don’t know if there’s a way I could probably send him back to what, to where, he was.” You tell her.

The shop owner hums in deep thought, crossing her hands over her chest nodding.

“Is it a ghost? Did you call in a spirit? Are you in love with a ghost?” She asks flat out without hesitation, and you almost laugh.

She’s half right in a way.

“I’m thinking…possibly the one thing that came to mind that I would do first is to do an unbinding spell. Whatever is keeping this man here, the separation of that would be what sends him back.” She says jumping off her chair, waving at you to follow her through the shop.

You quickly scurry behind her.

Grabbing a pack of two candles, the ritual she describes is simple enough. Tying a string around the two candles, lighting them until they burn, which in the process would burn the thread, theoretically severing the tie of Acacius to this world.

“And you said it was the love wish tea you drank, yes?”

You nod, and she nods back in understanding.

“What that tea is meant to do is call in your heart’s desires, simply allow the universe to bring whatever magic it seems fit to your life…But it also isn’t doing it forcefully.” She explains.

The tea is known to work because it calls in someone who desires the same thing you do, almost like a little nudge in the matchmaking department, a magic magnet.

“It works because someone else is also receptive. But of course, there is no need to stay with whoever is brought to you.”

Her words sink into a deep corner of your heart. You wonder if that meant Marcus Acacius longed for a better future, and it’s why the tea worked on him.

Thanking her graciously, you take the candles and a few cute stickers she has by the counter.

“I hope everything works out for you, gorgeous.” Her warm smile becomes a comforting hug.

You hope so too.

But the way your stomach twists, a part of you realizes… what if you don’t want Marcus Acacius to leave?

It’s selfish - but you want this trio of you, him and Marcus Pike, to last as long as it possibly can.

Driving to Marcus’s apartment, guilt and selfishness fight each other tooth and nail. You don’t know if this unbinding spell would work, but it would be a start.

With the spare key Marcus gave you, you let yourself in.

There on the couch you catch the quickest glimpse of both men heavily making out with the elder Marcus greedily holding onto Agent Pike’s sharp jaw. You wonder if maybe you’re seeing things, but the image knocks you breathless.

The younger and modern Marcus, who halfway was on the elder General’s lap immediately, bolts away as if electrocuted.

On the table, you spot two glasses of wine.

They both stare at you, caught red handed. Immediately though, you scramble out apologies.

“I should have called and-”

Marcus says your name. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

You feel so foolish right now. You didn’t even think that they had a thing, and that you were possibly the third wheel.

“I can leave. I totally understand.” You really do.

“No.” Acacius orders, saying your name, firmly shaking his head as he rises. His eyes rusted steel swords that pin you to where you stand.

“This started because of you.” He adds.

Wait.

Because of you?

“Wait, are you guys drunk?” You even voice your confusion.

Both Marcus men shake their heads no.

“We were just talking about you, about us.” The younger Marcus explains.

“And it took us some time but we both desire each other. And we both desire you.” General Acacius simply interjects, and Marcus coughs stunned.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s been brought to life in another time.

“Honey, please don’t feel pressured if you don’t feel the same.” Marcus, wonderful Marcus Pike, ever understanding and eternally good.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Even tried to ask you out a couple of times, just got a bit of cold feet. It just unfortunately took an ancient Roman to get me to finally say something.” He laughs weakly, boyishly nervous.

He’s liked you all this time.

You don’t say anything, don’t think there’s any words you can say just yet. Simply the emotions overtake you.

You head first to the younger Marcus and kiss him with a fierce tug at his shirt. He happily pulls you into him and sighs into your lips.

A soft but large hand runs up your back, and the sensation makes your body bloom.

“You both are so beautiful.” The older Marcus mutters dripping with adoration.

With a squeeze to Marcus’s shoulder and one final soft kiss, you pull away then melt into the general’s waiting arms. His mustache tickles you as his lips kiss yours, but it’s divine.

Their hands all over you touch every inch they can. You’ve never felt this desired, never been the epicenter of affection and passion like this before. You just as eagerly try grabbing at either man with as much clawed possession as you can.

They’re both yours now after all.

Tumbling into the bedroom it’s like something out of a dream, blissful and deliciously decadent, but so real with how heated your body feels.

Both men start kissing your exposed skin, with one licking at your neck from behind and the other readily nipping at your exposed chest. Your mind melts in bliss.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

You’re rewarded with two beautiful groans, different in tones it becomes a symphony you want to hear forever.

In the blurry of haze, the sticky syrupy desire, you and the younger Marcus follow each other peppering multiple kisses on Acacius’s chest as he falls onto the bed.

You and the modern Marcus work together, conquering the beautiful golden exposed landscape of Marcus Acacius’s chest. You tenderly press your lips against the various scars then happily move to kiss the younger Marcus.

The delicious sighs from General Acacius fill the room, a hypnotic soundtrack.

Soon your lips start traveling further down across his body. Your fellow lover follows your trail, kissing and kicking every inch of Acacius. You and Marcus reach his cock twitching in the loose sweatpants Acacius has grown fond of.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans as he drags the older man’s cock out.

Fuck is right. Thick, girthy and dripping already, you already ache to have him inside in any way.

“Both of you are little fiends.” The elder Marcus croaks breathless. Confidence surges in you as you lick across his length, relishing in the taste of his skin.

Marcus’s tongue also licks with you along your other lover’s cock, even moving across your tongue. The louder groans coming from General Acacius only spur you and Marcus on.

Greedily your eyes flicker up towards the towering force of a warrior. The beautiful older man’s eyes blown black, desired drenched galaxies looking down at you and Marcus like prizes he wants to conquer himself.

It makes you dizzy, completely possessed, and you kiss your way down to one of his thick large heavy balls. You tentatively lick. Acacius initially hisses until his voice melts into the loudest primal groan when you start sucking.

Your sweet Marcus immediately follows your lead, dragging his mouth down as well. You and him simply devour Acacius, licking back and forth across your lover’s balls and each other’s mouths.

Marcus quickly starts stroking your lover’s thick cock. It’s heaven being among these two, allowing yourself to get lost in the golden ecstasy.

When Acacius reaches his release you greedily lick up his cum that spilled against his skin, and he groans. Once you sit up, you reach for Marcus’s cum covered hand and begin to lick and suck his fingers clean. It’s then your sweet Marcus that suddenly grabs your mouth with the same hand, pulling your face towards his.

“Don’t swallow baby, I wanna taste.” He mutters with blazed out eyes.

Hearing that you almost come on the spot.

You sit up and slowly allow your spit and the milky cum into Marcus’s waiting mouth.

“Gods above.” The elder Marcus moans carnal.

The rest of the night consumes you in a wanton haze.

Sweaty, exhausted, but floating on a cloud, you sink into the bed with two men barricading you in their arms.

“I’m surprised you were…open to this.” You say to Acacius who chuckles a bit.

“I have loved others before, some included men. One was even a fellow General who died tragically among the same coliseum walls as I once did.” He explains gently.

You kiss his chest softly in understanding.

As you and these two lie curled into one another on Marcus’s lush bed, it’s like a new door has opened.

You and Marcus eagerly ask your General about his days in ancient Rome and his travels across the old world, about the true story of how he got his scar. Ever the steady man, Acacius answers all questions he can.

In the middle of this warm incredible double Marcus sandwich makes you giddy. But Acacius’s deep comforting lull of a voice, Marcus’s soft hands stroking your skin, create a cocoon drawing you to sleep faster than you realize.

A soft kiss comes to the top of your head.

“Rest. We will be here when you wake.”

Nodding through a yawn, you happily kiss them both goodnight. But just before you fall into the depths of sleep, you catch the two talking.

“What… will happen if I do not return to stone?” Acacius speaks first, so low and cautious you wonder if you’re dreaming already.

“I… I guess the statue will remain incomplete, stolen.” Marcus answers truthful but gentle.

A moment passes.

“What if I do not wish to return to stone?” Acacius clarifies.

You hear Marcus inhale sharp.

“I’ve longed for peaceful days away from the brutality of the frontline. And now… it’s here.”

A thick hope shines through the older Marcus’s voice, slipping past your ribs to piece your heart.

Movement shifts the bed, arms reach across for each other and seem to cage around you more.

“You’ll always have the final say. You get to make that choice. Neither of us would ever want to force you or take that away from you.” Marcus’s molten words are coated in pure understanding.

“I wish to stay here… with you and her.” Confidence, solidified resolution, radiate from the General’s voice.

The bed shifts again, and you hear them exchange the softest kiss.

“We’ll have to make sure to tell her in the morning.” The modern Marcus sighs dreamily. His hands again start rubbing your arm soothing, as if he can sense you’re fighting sleep.

“Of course. We must never forget our lady.” The older Marcus agrees.

His words along with a soft kiss to your forehead become the final push that allows sleep to settle.

— °˖➴ —

“So you’re telling me mister head of the art crimes department will be okay with a statue staying stolen and missing forever?” You smirk amused while Marcus drives down the familiar roads.

“Hey it’s no Vemeer’s Concert, but I’ll live with it.” Marcus playfully smirks and shrugs.

The investigation on General Acacius’s missing statue had run cold. There was no indication of a break in or forced exit. From the surveillance tapes, the video recordings simply shimmer, distorted for one moment, and then the statue is gone. As if it vanished into thin air.

Or is simply currently sitting in the back seat of the car taking in the world and power of a motor vehicle.

“You hear that, General? Our boy said you’re not valuable.” You tease.

“I don’t mind and I can agree.” Acacius replies bored, making you laugh. The green sweater he wears compliments him and brings out the streams of grays in his hair. You and Marcus have loved seeing him embrace modern clothing more than ever.

“That’s not what I meant.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

You snicker even more.

The occult shop arrives, and the candles feel lighter than ever in your bag, especially knowing you’re here to return them.

“Seems like you didn’t need these after all.” Your favorite lavender haired shop owner says with a coy smirk. Her eyes stay locked on your men exploring the aisles.

“A two for one deal? I'm definitely advertising that for the tea.” She adds eagerly, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

If only you could tell her the full truth.

You return to your boys, enjoying the way Acacius seems to be a bit petrified among all of the occult objects.

“Are you sure this witchcraft is safe?” He asks worried, snd Marcus smooths by rubbing his back.

You grin.

Love, affection, might be the strangest but most beautiful magic after all.

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x historian!reader: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

plot: the one where the both of you are within your walls.

warnings: marquis is different here to canon, expect oc behavior but like all fics he’s gonna be cruel museum worker! reader, entitled af french boi, unreliable sibling relationships/dynamics

masterlist

the rain pattered against the glass windows, ringing through the empty halls of the museum. you sat there deep in thought in front of your desk while the storm raged outside. the moon that had look delicately beautiful earlier had disappeared when flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder replaced the serene scenery, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here but surely it hasn’t been that long.

where was he? he should be here by now, you pondered.

a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

“ma’am?” your assistant calls out as he peeks his head through the door.

you look back at him but your lips stay still, not making a word but silently urging him to continue with the rise of an eyebrow.

“he’s here again, requesting a private viewing,” he informs.

oh. you almost forgot about that.

the constant visitor of the museum for the past few weeks was none other than the eccentric and affluent, marquis de gramont. recently, he frequented the museum for a private viewing for some of the rarest and beautiful pieces of art in french history. not that you’re complaining since he paid good money for his private viewings but his persistent requests to have a historian around him, explaining what the intricate histories and symbols drawn beneath the surface were an inconvenience sometimes.

truthfully, there’s no bad conversation with him. you’re quite eager to answer any additional questions or arguments he imposes upon you but judging by the exhibition of his wealth and power, don’t they teach these things to nobility at a young age?

you pull your feet up and drag them towards the door, your assistant gives you a weary smile knowing how long your discussions with the marquis would usually go, for hours on end. 

the walk to the private room was filled with footsteps, your previous thoughts emerging once again. your brother.

 he was supposed to be here to join you for lunch but he hadn’t shown up. lunches shared with the both of you were also your bonding and catch up time but as of late he missed at least four lunches in six weeks. you could understand that maybe it was just his busy schedule but the fewer times you saw him, he seemed anxious and jumpy with sweat beading on his forehead. as if he was always in a hurry, you consistently persisted in the lunches in an effort to get him to open up his problems with you, after all what are siblings for?

you approach the door cautiously, taking a deep breath to polish your mind before stepping into the role of gracious historian, a person that’s ready to deal with the marquis.

entering the room with an eager smile on your face, you greet the marquis who was sitting on a plush white leather couch, donning another dark blue suit with a jacket and tie to finish the look. he doesn’t offer any greeting in reply and comments on your lateness right away.

“you took a while to get here, mademoiselle.” he mutters, checking his watch.

“i apologize for my tardiness sir, i had matters to attend to.” you force a smile. he stares at you carefully, an amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before waving it off.

“let’s get started then.”

the marquis is a difficult person to impress, especially in keeping him engaged in a conversation. more often than not you find yourself exerting a lot of information out of your brain just to keep up with him. you don’t know why you always push yourself to be somewhat superior to him in terms of knowledge but perhaps that’s just what his aura demands of you.

“and that is the final painting for your private viewing today, sir.” you recite familiar lines you’ve been saying for the past six weeks, “are there any questions you have in mind?”

he eyes the painting cryptically before glancing at you and shaking his head, looking somewhat satisfied with the answers you’ve given him. you smile at him once again before speaking.

“if you require any refreshments or desire to make an appointment in the future, enzo will take care of it. thank you for coming to the louvre, sir.” you bow your head before leaving, knowing that the marquis liked to be alone.

once you make it back to the office, you see your phone light up and vibrate. you immediately make a beeline for it and before the ringing ends, unfortunately the call ends before you could answer it but a wave of messages floods your inbox, all from your brother telling you he was at the entrance of the museum.

you hurriedly run out of your office straight to the entrance when you see a faint silhouette by the large doors. you call his name out and he turns to face you, a faint smile on his lips.

”where were you? i’ve been waiting for you the entire day, are you alright?” you immediately assume the worst and begin to fret over your dearest younger brother, gripping his shoulders and checking his face for any possible injuries.

your brother is a good person. you know that. you watched him grow, you watched him become the man he is now but still a small whisper remains in the back of your mind that you are losing him to something , and you can’t do anything to help it.

you can feel it. it  started with the distance and excuses, how every single word that leaves his mouth feels less and less genuine and more like a set of lies meant to calm you down. you want to help him but he won’t let you.

”i’m fine, i just got caught up at work.” he verbally reassures you but pulls away from your touch. you bite your tongue from asking more, afraid of scaring him away. a fight is not what you need right now.

”oh…um” you mumble, taking a small step away from him, feeling your insides crush to the lack of familial warmth from a brother. he stands there unfazed by your movements, the small smile gone in front of you. instead, an uneasiness replaces his eyes and stares at the ground, seemingly too busy to deal with your emotions right now.

“do you want to have dinner together? i know this nice sushi place downtown.” you eagerly offer, his mouth opens to reply but a brief hesitation takes place.

”i can’t.” he replies.

“why?” you ask, annoyance in your tone.

”work, as usual.” he states with a humorless chuckle, worry still present in his face, “i’m here for a favor.”

“what is it? did you get in trouble? you know you can tell me anything right?” you gasp.

“no! no! i just need to borrow some money for this month’s rent. my new job doesn’t pay until the end of the month, my landlord said i’m way overdue for the past three months and he’s gonna kick me out if i don’t pay within this week.”

a silence takes over the conversation as your process the information you are given right now. the excuse feels flimsy and careless.

money isn’t really an issue for you right now. you’re not insanely rich but you are financially stable, yet you feel uncertain about giving your brother money. your brother’s landlord, a strict but yet a sweet old man often texts you whether or not your brother has paid his rent in each month and so far you’ve received no messages from him lately. 

”oh..yeah sure. it’s no problem, i can send it to you later.” you smile for his comfort, making yourself feel approachable to your own blood.

monitoring your sibling’s rent status is definitely odd but with what you’re dealing with right now, to be completely honest you’re just making sure your brother’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that.

”come on in, it’s raining outside.” you grab his arm and pull him in.

”no, seriously, it's alright. you might have some people inside-“

”it’s closing time, at least sit inside and wait for me, please?” you plead.

”okay, i’ll wait for you.” he smiles.

”good, because if i have to deal with another stubborn asshole under this roof, i’m going to lose my mind.” your brother chuckles and takes a seat by the door.

”dinner’s on me.” he adds, wiping the raindrops gathered on his forehead.

“on you? you can’t even pay your rent!” you jest.

”it was a one time thing!”

the amusement slowly dies down when you hear a large number of footsteps echoing through the halls, the door opens and it reveals the marquis. you immediately straighten up and face his direction, slipping in the professional manner that he is accustomed to.

”good evening, sir.” you greet.

the marquis doesn’t reply but instead whispers an instruction to his guards which they nod to and walk ahead of him. the marquis approaches you carefully, briefly eyeing you before glancing at the person behind you.

”it is quite late, don’t you think?” he starts.

”ah, yes it is. the night staff and i are closing the museum for the night, we were simply waiting for your departure. perhaps, you enjoyed your private viewings much longer than usual, sir.”

”you cannot fault me for that, miss. what hangs on the walls of this establishment is history, glory and beauty wrapped in one.”

”that we agree on.” you reply, “will you be here tomorrow? at the same time?” he looks at you again.

”for what reason are you asking?” he raises an eyebrow.

“so enzo and i can immediately arrange for your appointment and room, sir.” 

he pauses and a silence takes place, his eyes wander all over your face trying to see something through you. you keep your gaze on him, composed and calm. as it should be. you get a feeling he relishes on weakness especially people who have a lower pay grade than him or maybe that’s just how he is with everyone.

narcissism was a major takeaway you observed from the marquis the first time you met him, quite self-centered might you add and somewhat snobbish but then again his attention is not something to be exhilarated about.

”yes, miss. i will be here tomorrow.” a small smirk curves his lips.

”you are quite fond of the art around here.” you start.

”yes, what of it?”

”how come you never bought any of it? i’ve heard from a few auction houses that you have quite the art collection. i’m sure it is much more convenient for you, having the art within the comfort of your home.” you reason to him.

more reason to see him less in your life. you think.

“you are not wrong in that. it would be much more convenient.” he agrees.

so buy it then.

”if that’s the case, i must inform you that there are plans to auction that rembrandt you are so eagerly fond of, perhaps you might be interested in joining?”

”i will have to turn that down, miss. as much as i enjoy the comfort of my home, i appreciate the aura of the louvre, it brings a sense of fulfillment and eagerness to me. i would be a fool to rob myself of that. also, the people around here are not so bad.” his eyes rake over your frame carefully, you wonder if he’s looking at your brother. 

you look back and surprisingly no ones there. you shake it off when you hear a car engine nearby.

”oh, well it doesn’t hurt to try.” you begin to walk towards the door and he follows, outside his car sits with a bodyguard on standby waiting for him.

”i appreciate your service, miss. my private viewings have never been a dull moment during your enlightenments.” you lower you’re head slightly at him with a polite smile.

“i, as well must thank you for your service and approach. i tend to enjoy the art much more than when i am with myself.” the marquis remarks, extending his hand towards you.

”my pleasure, sir.” you respond as you shake his hand.

and it’s warm.

”will you be requiring a ride home? i am more than happy to offer it to you.” he offers when you pull your hand away from him.

”thank you for the offer sir but i will be here for later hours.” you retort.

“i do not mind staying here for a little longer.” he insists, you notice his line of sight eye your hand that shook his hand earlier. the cold rainy breeze must have taken control of the warmth of your palms and the marquis could have noticed the coldness of your hand. the marquis fidgets with his right hand as if it was itching to do something.

”it is not needed sir, i am more than capable of bringing myself home.” you state firmly.

”nonsense. i’ll send a car for you. it would be unfortunate if my favorite art historian was harmed in any possible way, how will i survive my viewings?” he urges with amusement in his tone but once again not wanting to back down.

”i would hate to waste your time and effort sir-“ you politely refuse again.

”it is late and unsafe for a woman of your caliber to be alone in the streets of the city. you will not have a choice in this, mademoiselle.” he states firmly this time as his voice hardens and makes it clear it’s not an offer.

it’s a command.

the marquis’ attention is not to be relished on. in this private viewings, the both of you have always maintained a polite and professional demeanor between client and host although there was some casual conversation here and there but you’ve never outright refused him, desiring to keep his temper from exploding and having his unpredictability in your space.

the marquis always gets his way. having private viewings at any time he desires with whatever piece of art he decides to have his eye on and more importantly taking up your time whenever he comes by at the louvre.

in the recent months you’ve spent with him, compliance is all he knows from you so it’s not unlikely that it’s easy for him to shut you down at the first hint of refusal. not to mention, he does not hesitate at confrontation. any small slight against him is somewhat remembered the next time you meet him.

complaints about making him wait slightly longer than usual for his viewings, comments about the apparently poor maintenance of the paintings  and your tardiness to attend to him are the most prominent experiences you remember from him.

the marquis feels entitled to everything within the walls of the louvre.

and that includes you.

another entitled rich snob that thinks he understands art more than you do is not a first time experience, but his insistence of having you brought home because of him somehow brings a chill to your spine.

entitled rich snobs can come to your work any time and however they like but the moment they try to step into your life, well it’s time to push them back. you have no interest in them unless it’s something to do with your job.

unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to do that right now.

“next time.” you think to yourself, “but never again.”

you back down and thank the marquis for this offer as his body guard opens the door to his vehicle, he flashes a small but pleased smile for your gratitude and bids you a safe trip home.

you return a smile at him and watch him leave until his car disappears from where you stand. exhaustion settles back into your nerves when you realized how late it is again.

oh and your brother.

christ. give me strength to deal with this tomorrow.

you sigh and walk back inside to close up.

later, when you get dropped off by the driver assigned to you, doubt starts to creep into your senses whether or not you told the driver where you live. after thanking him and shutting the door, you tilt your head idly at the car and think deep and hard.

”did you or did you not?” you ponder.

groaning heavily you shake it off as exhaustion for your lack of remembrance.

still weird though.

author’s note: kickstarting another series when i’m still not done with four reqs and one series…anyways enjoy and please feel free to like and reblog!

[blackbackedjackal]

You know I've been feeling a little anxious bc Captain's werewolf form and June's shadowy version of her werewolf form look a lot a like and I always hope no one accuses either of us of design theft like it happened to me with one of my old characters, though I made his werewolf form in like 2020. June is cool as hell (if not cooler) I wouldn't want someone to be a jerk about it. Maybe I should draw them together shaking hands as a preventive measure lol

Heya! I hope this is ok to post but please don't worry about it! June's design is based off of other (mostly animated) werewolf designs I liked, but was given meaning through her story and the reason as to /why/ her form looks a certain way.

It's not that she's just shadowy, it's an intentional visual representation of black trauma. There's are cultural and social stigmas of Black people being systematically denied access to mental health resources or being told that they're just "lazy" or "crazy" or "faking it". June's form is altered by her mental/emotional state, it's what she /believes/ she is due to her past trauma and her story is, in part, learning deal with her trauma in a healthy way.

June's form is also based on the lesser known theories that The Beast of Gévaudan (which June is related to via her lycan lineage) was either a product of mass hysteria from the high number of wolf attacks in the region or was potentially a serial killer. The way the beast is often described (black fur, red lips, white/yellowed eyes and teeth) is similar to racist depictions of Black people in the past. I used this as a basis for designing her form. It's the intention and her story that's important, followed by visuals that are found within the werewolf genre and outside of it.

I'm a little too tired to go more in-depth but I'll leave this quote from the Jim Crow museum:

The mission of the Jim Crow Museum is straightforward: use items of intolerance to teach tolerance. We examine the historical patterns of race relations and the origins and consequences of racist depictions. The aim is to engage visitors in open and honest dialogues about this country's racial history...The Jim Crow Museum is founded on the belief that open, honest, even painful discussions about race are necessary to avoid yesterday's mistakes.

June's story is about racism. It's about intolerance towards black queer folk. It's about how Black people (especially Black women) have to suffer under a system that denies them mental health resources, resulting in many Black people turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Her design was me intentionally marrying old werewolf motifs with a different perspective on the werewolf genre (since even today is it still mostly a white space). There's a stark difference to me when someone comes up with a similar design independently vs when someone is actively lifting direct inspiration from my work and twisting the meaning in the process.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 17

Paul Cadmus - portrait by Luigi Lucioni

1904 – Paul Cadmus (d.1999), American painter, is best known for the satiric innocence of his frequently censored paintings of burly men in skin-tight clothes and curvaceous women in provocative poses, but he also created works that celebrate same-sex domesticity.

Born in New York City on December 17, 1904 into a family of commercial artists, Cadmus studied at the National Academy of Design and the Arts Students League. He lived in Europe from 1931 to 1933, where he traveled with artist Jared French and where he produced his first mature canvases.

In the 1930s, Cadmus became the center of a circle of gay men who were prominent within the arts in New York City. This circle included his brother-in-law, Lincoln Kirstein, who helped found the American School of Ballet, and the photographer George Platt Lynes, for whom Cadmus frequently modeled.

In the 1930s, Cadmus used caricature, satire, and innuendo to veil the homoeroticism of his subjects, which radically pushed at the boundaries of acceptability. Cadmus's 1933 painting The Fleet's In! was selected for inclusion in a show at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, and in 1934 it placed him at the center of a public controversy.

The Fleet's In

Like many of his early works, the painting is ostensibly heterosexual in its depiction of sailors flirting with young women, who may be prostitutes, but it nevertheless manages to suggest a homosexual exchange between a well-dressed civilian, who sports a red tie, a widely recognized signal of homosexuality from the turn of the twentieth century, and a sailor to whom he offers a cigarette.

The painting's homoerotic subtext led to its removal after the opening of the exhibition. Frequently cited as one of the earliest incidents of government censorship, the removal of the painting was almost certainly motivated by homophobia.

Cadmus's painting Coney Island (1935) also became the subject of controversy. Its portrayal of local residents engaged in provocative (heterosexual) antics enraged Brooklyn realtors, who threatened to file a civil suit against the Whitney Museum of American Art.

Similarly, his commission for the Port Washington post office was also scandalous and was cancelled: the mural he produced, Pocahontas and John Smith (1938), so emphasizes the buttocks and genitals of the Native Americans that it obscures the subject, which is the rescue of John Smith.As a result of Cadmus's notoriety, his 1937 exhibition at Midtown Galleries in New York attracted more than 7,000 visitors.

Other early works of particular interest for their homoeroticism are YMCA Locker Room (1933), Shore Leave (1933), and Greenwich Village Cafeteria (1934). Like The Fleet's In!, these works also document homosexual cruising and seduction.

In Cadmus's paintings, significant exchanges of glances signal sexual longing and availability, often in the very midst of mundane activities. His work documents the surreptitious cruising rituals of an urban, gay male subculture in the 1930s.

Cadmus's painting What I Believe (1947-1948) was inspired by E.M. Forster's essay of the same name, in which the novelist expresses his faith in personal relations and his concept of a spiritual aristocracy "of the sensitive, the considerate, and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human condition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos."

What I Believe

Cadmus's allegorical painting, which depicts such figures as Forster and Christopher Isherwood in Socratic poses, makes clear his intellectual allegiance to the humanism that Forster depicted as gravely threatened by fascism.

In still other later works, such as The Bath (1951) and The Haircut (1986), Cadmus explores the joys of his long-term relationship with his partner and model, Jon Andersson. These paintings are particularly touching in their illustration of an entirely ordinary but rarely depicted subject: the domesticity of a same-sex couple.

Although he stopped painting towards the end of his life, Cadmus continued to draw at his home in Weston, Connecticut, particularly portraits and figure studies of Andersson, his favorite model and companion of 35 years.

Cadmus died on December 12, 1999, five days shy of his 95th birthday.

Tony Tavarossi and bike

1933 – Homo-masculine proto-leatherman Tony Tavarossi (d.1981) was a native San Franciscan who was as important to gay liberation history in San Francisco as his contemporary, the drag-queen politician José Sarria.

He came out at the age of twelve under the tables (literally) in the curtained booths of the South China Café at l8th and Castro streets. He nick-named himself "Tony"; his birth name was Elloyd Tavarossi.

He was a “walking oral historian” who in his own personal history set in motion a “domino effect” in gay liberation history:

Tony Tavarossi founded San Francisco’s first bike bar or leather bar, the Why Not? (1960), where he was himself arrested for propositioning an undercover cop, thus closing the Why Not? in a raid that was a rehearsal for the police raid on the Tay-Bush lnn (1961) which emboldened Chuck Arnett to hire Tony in opening the legendary Tool Box bar (1961) which, as a symbol of masculine mutiny, fortified the gay resolve to found the Tavern Guild (1962) to protect gay citizens from harassment by the San Francisco Police Department.

Tony Tavarossi said later that the gay bar scene in 1966 was a riot led by a mixed crowd of Levis-wearing leathermen, straight-trade hustlers (many of them ex-Gls from World War II and Korea), and tough drag queens.

He died of AIDS ]u1y 12, 1981, two days after the epic fire that destroyed the Barracks baths on Folsom Street, putting an end to the turbulent 1970s.

1939 – James Booker was a New Orleans rhythm and blues keyboardist born in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States. Booker's unique style combined rhythm and blues with jazz standards. Musician Dr. John described Booker as "the best black, gay, one-eyed junkie piano genius New Orleans has ever produced." Flamboyant in personality, he was known as "the Black Liberace."

Booker was the son and grandson of Baptist ministers, both of whom played the piano. He spent most of his childhood on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where his father was a church pastor. Booker received a saxophone as a gift from his mother, but he was more interested in the keyboard. He played the organ in his father's churches.

After returning to New Orleans in his early adolescence, Booker attended the Xavier Academy Preparatory School. He learned some elements of his keyboard style from Tuts Washington and Edward Frank. Booker was highly skilled in classical music and played music by Bach and Chopin, among other composers. He also mastered and memorized solos by Erroll Garner and Liberace. His performances combined elements of stride, blues, gospel and Latin piano styles.

Booker made his recording debut in 1954 on the Imperial Records label, with "Doin' the Hambone" and "Thinkin' 'Bout My Baby", produced by Dave Bartholomew. This led to some session work with Fats Domino, Smiley Lewis, and Lloyd Price.

In 1958, Arthur Rubinstein performed a concert in New Orleans. Afterwards, eighteen-year-old Booker was introduced to the concert pianist and played several tunes for him. Rubinstein was astonished, saying "I could never play that ... never at that tempo" During this period, Booker also became known for his flamboyant personality among his peers.

After recording a few other singles, he enrolled as an undergraduate in Southern University's music department. In 1960, Booker's "Gonzo" reached number 43 on the United States (U.S.) record chart of Billboard magazine and number 3 on the R&B record chart. Following "Gonzo", Booker released some moderately successful singles. In the 1960s, he started using illicit drugs, and in 1970 served a brief sentence in Angola Prison for drug possession. At the time, Professor Longhair and Ray Charles were among his important musical influences.

As Booker became more familiar to law enforcement in New Orleans due to his illicit drug use, he formed a relationship with District Attorney Harry Connick Sr., who was occasionally Booker's legal counsel. Connick would discuss law with Booker during his visits to the Connick home and made an arrangement with the musician whereby a prison sentence would be nullified in exchange for piano lessons for Connick Sr.'s son Harry Connick Jr.Booker recorded a number of albums while touring Europe in 1977, including New Orleans Piano Wizard: Live!, which was recorded at his performance at the "Boogie Woogie and Ragtime Piano Contest" in Zurich, Switzerland – the album won the Grand Prix du Disque. He also played at the Nice and Montreux Jazz Festivals in 1978 and recorded a session for the BBC during this time. Fourteen years later, a recording entitled Let's Make A Better World! –made in Leipzig during this period– became the last record to be produced in the former East Germany.

In a 2013 interview, filmmaker Lily Keber, who directed a documentary on Booker, provided her perspective on Booker's warm reception in European nations such as Germany and France:

Well, the racism wasn't there, the homophobia wasn't there –as much. Even the drug use was a little more tolerated. But really I think that Booker felt he was being taken seriously in Europe, and it made him think of himself differently and improved the quality of his music. He needed the energy of the audience to feed off.

Booker died aged 43 on November 8, 1983, while seated in a wheelchair in the emergency room at New Orleans' Charity Hospital, waiting to receive medical attention. The cause of death, as cited in the Orleans Parish Coroner's Death Certificate, was renal failure related to chronic abuse of heroin and alcohol.

Cashman with Paul Cottingham

1950 – Michael Cashman, born in London, is a British former actor, and a Labour politician. He has been a Member of the European Parliament for the West Midlands constituency since 1999.

As a child actor he was cast in the role of Oliver Twist in the original run of Lionel Bart's musical Oliver!, but he is possibly best known for his role as Colin Russell in BBC TV's EastEnders - a character remembered for being a participant in the first gay kiss in a British soap opera. He also appeared in the ITV drama serial The Sandbaggers and the Doctor Who story "Time-Flight".

Cashman was a founder of Stonewall, an Honorary Associate of the National Secular Society and a Patron of The Food Chain, a London-based HIV charity.He is a trenchant critic of discrimination against minorities within the European Union. He is leading a cross-party coalition to tackle the rise in homophobia throughout Europe. He has in the past supported the gay pride march in Warsaw, which he attended. He is also the President of the European Parliament's Intergroup on gay and lesbian issues.

In 2007 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Staffordshire for his human rights work.

In line with current guidelines the European Parliament paid his domestic partner, Paul Cottingham, £30,000 per annum for his work as Cashman's "Accounts Manager, Personnel Manager and Payroll Administrator". Cashman registered a civil partnership with Paul Cottingham, his partner for 31 years, on 11 March 2006.

In March 2011 Cottingham was diagnosed with a very rare cancer, angiosarcoma, and he died on 23 October 2014 in the Royal Marsden Hospital, London. He was cremated in a humanist service at the City of London Cemetery on 7 November 2014.

Cashman was appointed Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) in the 2013 New Year Honours for public and political service.

On 23 September 2014 he was created a Life Peer taking the title Baron Cashman, of Limehouse in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, which is also his birthplace.

1959 – Gregg Araki is an American independent filmmaker. He is involved in New Queer Cinema.

Araki made his directorial debut in 1987 with Three Bewildered People in the Night. With a budget of only $5,000 and using a stationary camera, he told the story of a romance between a video artist, her sweet-heart and her gay friend.

Two years later, Araki made a name for himself on the festival circuit with The Long Weekend (O' Despair). Produced, directed, written, photographed and edited by Araki (for his own Desperate Pictures Company), this very small-scale Big Chill derivation involved a group of recent college graduates brooding over their futures during one woozy, boozy evening.

He followed this up in 1992 with The Living End, a road movie about two HIV-positive men whose paths cross one fateful day and the tumultuous relationship which ensues. Premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, the film was nominated for the Grand Jury Prize.

Araki's next three films comprised his "Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy."

Totally Fucked Up (1993) (Totally F***ed Up in publicity) chronicled the dysfunctional lives of six gay adolescent people who have formed a family unit and struggle to get along with each other and with life in the face of various major obstacles.

The Doom Generation (1995) was a black comedy brimming with graphic violence, cultural symbolism and relentless eroticism. While largely trashed by critics, the piece won a measure of respect in a number of circles and is available on DVD and VHS in both rated and unrated versions due to several sex scenes as well as the violent climax.

Araki's next venture was the ill-fated MTV series This Is How the World Ends (2000), which was meant to have a budget of $1.5 million. The network only gave him $700,000 and hoped to find partners to finance the difference. Araki offered to make the pilot episode for $700,000, and MTV took him up on it, but after the pilot was shot it was not picked up for broadcast.

Nowhere (1997) was described by its director as "A Beverly Hills, 90210 episode on acid". It centered around a group of bored, alienated adolescent people in Los Angeles during a typical day of kinky sex, drugs, and the requisite wild party.

Following a short hiatus, Araki returned with the critically acclaimed Mysterious Skin (2004) based on a novel by Scott Heim, which tells the story of a teenage hustler and a withdrawn young man obsessed with alien abductions, and how they both deal with the sexual abuse they suffered from their Little League coach when they were children.

Araki self-identified as gay until 1997, when he entered a relationship with actress Kathleen Robertson, whom he directed in Nowhere. The relationship ended in 1999. Araki has since mainly dated men. He now identifies as bisexual.

1968 – Fabrice Neaud, born in La Rochelle, France, is a French comics artist. He got his baccalaureate in literature (option graphic arts) in 1986. He studied philosophy during two years. Then he entered an art school and studied there four years. In 1991 he quit the school. For four years he had been looking for a job, making a living on various works.

He is a co-founder of the Ego comme X association. In 1994, the first number of the Ego comme X magazine was released. In it, Fabrice Neaud published his first works. It was the beginning of his Journal (which is a diary in comics), an ambitious autobiographical project. The first volume of the Journal was released in 1996. It got a prize Alph'art (best work by a young artist) in Angoulême in 1997.

From an entry in his Journal

Fabrice Neaud keeps on drawing his Journal. Three more volumes have been published between 1998 and 2002. He published also many short stories in Ego comme X, Bananas and other magazines. Some of his works have been translated into Italian and Spanish. A reviewer notes, "But Neaud isn't a simple diarist: he's also an artist concerned with various problems of our society, including homophobia and gay life in small towns." His works have been the subject of academic papers.

2007 The Parliament of Hungary gives the same rights to registered partners as to spouses with some exceptions: adoption, IVF access, surrogacy, and taking a surname.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, Chapter 6

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~1900

Story Summary: Steven meets a beautiful woman in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum...

...Too bad she's his new boss.

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, Steven has it BAD for Reader

A/N: And we're back! In case you missed it, there's now a companion fic to this from Reader's perspective called Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic and I'd appreciate everyone checking it out!

As always, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this or any of my fics (or even just want to chat) give me a shout!

Taglist: @runny-mascara

“You! You just couldn't keep your nose out of my department, could you?”

Steven’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up from the book he was reading at an angry Donna. So much for enjoying a peaceful lunch in an empty break room , he thought. “What? What are you on about?”

“I’m talking about the toys and knick-knacks and plushies we're adding to the gift shop,” Donna sneered. “As if I didn't have enough rubbish to keep up with and sell already with how busy it's been lately.”

Realization dawned on Steven. It had been over a month since Dr. Y/L/N had asked him about his ideas for changes to the gift shop offerings and quite frankly, he had forgotten all about it. “Oh, the new items came in?”

“‘Oh, the new items came in? ’” Donna repeated mockingly. “I knew it was all your doing! Wasn't enough to weasel your way into a higher position than me, so now you're trying to take over my job too!”

Steven shook his head. “Dr. Y/L/N mentioned that some of the items in the gift shop weren't selling and asked me for ideas for replacements since I used to work in that department, I didn't just --”

Donna scoffed. “Oh, come off it. You might've fooled her into thinking you're somebody special and into giving you a big fancy promotion, but I know better. You're still just a loser nobody who --”

Suddenly there was a loud clearing of a throat.

Steven looked over towards the doorway. Oh, bollocks.

Dr. Y/L/N stood with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face. She pointed at them, then pointed down the hall. “Both of you, my office. Now.”

Steven winced. Spending the remainder of his lunch hour getting reprimanded by Dr. Y/L/N was the last thing he needed right before a scheduled tour with a school group.

He quickly cleaned up and followed her to the elevator for the most awkward elevator ride to her office ever, Donna glaring daggers at him the entire way there.

Dr. Y/L/N walked over to her office, stopping next to her doorway. “Steven, you wait out here. Donna, with me.”

Steven stepped aside as Donna flounced past him, Dr. Y/L/N following her with a sigh before closing her office door.

“What's going on?” Helen asked Steven in a whisper. “I don't think I've ever seen Dr. Y/L/N look so cross.”

Steven grimaced. “She overheard Donna and I having a… er… discussion regarding the gift shop revamp -- specifically, about the fact that Donna wasn't too pleased with me having any involvement in it.”

Helen tsked. “Ah. Might as well have a seat, then. This might take a while.”

Steven sat on the sofa right outside of Dr. Y/L/N’s office, muffled voices occasionally filtering from within.

Suddenly, the door opened and Donna marched out.

“Hope you're happy,” she hissed as she stormed past Steven.

“You can come in now, Steven,” Dr. Y/L/N said. “And shut the door, please.”

Steven stood and entered her office, shutting the door behind him.

Dr. Y/L/N was leaning against her desk, a now weary look on her face to go with her crossed arms.

Finally, she sighed. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the museum's policy on bullying and harassment, correct?”

Steven nodded, his heart sinking. As part of his training for his Visitor Engagement Specialist position, he’d had to sign a supervisory form acknowledging that he'd read and understood the policy, which stated that any form of harassment or bullying of another employee or museum guest was subject to discipline up to and including dismissal at the discretion of the museum director. “Yes, ma'am, I am. I want to apologize, I--”

Dr. Y/L/N’s eyebrows raised. “Apologize? What for? You didn't do anything wrong.”

Steven’s head tilted in confusion. “You're not angry with me?”

“Angry ?” Dr. Y/L/N shook her head. “Heavens, no -- I heard more than enough of that conversation to know that Donna was the only one exhibiting any sort of abusive behavior.”

She softened. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Steven nodded, relaxing now that he knew that he wasn't in any sort of trouble. “Yes ma'am, I'm alright.”

“Okay, good.” Dr. Y/L/N uncrossed her arms. “I want to assure you that conduct of the sort that Donna just exhibited will not be tolerated as long as I'm director of this museum. You won't have to worry about her disrespecting you or anyone else here ever again.”

Steven’s eyebrows raised in shock as he understood the meaning behind her words. “You mean she's been sacked ?”

Dr. Y/L/N pursed her lips briefly before answering. “Actually, she quit of her own volition -- although I did give her a choice between the two, of which she wisely chose the option that didn't involve her being escorted out by security.” 

She sighed again. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you for not terminating Donna's employment after the first incident. What even started all of that, anyway? I was heading to the staff kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee when I overheard her being absolutely vile towards you.”

Steven shook his head. “No apology necessary, ma'am. She apparently wasn't very pleased that you had asked me for input on the new gift shop offerings and accused me of butting in on her department.” 

He shrugged. “I really don't know what exactly I ever did to offend her, but she's always seemed to have it out for me.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “I knew a few people like her in college -- always having to tear everyone else around them down in order to make themselves feel more powerful.” 

She paused. “You are intelligent, and insightful, and illuminating, Steven, and probably a whole lot of other words that start with ‘i’ that I can't even think of right now.”

Steven couldn't help but grin. “‘Inconsequential’? ‘Irritating’? ‘Insufferable’?”

Dr. Y/L/N huffed out a light laugh. “No, definitely none of those. Important, though, yes.”

She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Steven's arm. “You are a very special person and an integral part of this staff, so don't ever let anyone tell you that you didn't earn your position, because I promise you, you absolutely did and have more than proven that fact.”

Steven’s chest tightened at Dr. Y/L/N’s compliment. “Thank you, ma'am. That means a lot, especially coming from you.” 

Dr. Y/L/N let go of Steven’s arm and cleared her throat. “Alright, now if you'll please excuse me, I have an incident report to fill out, a gift shop schedule to rearrange, and an email to send to the entire staff on the proper way to air grievances on top of my already busy afternoon.”

Steven nodded. “If you need someone to help out in the gift shop until you get the schedule sorted, so I'd be happy to fill in on the register in between tours and assist with sorting the new inventory.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “That would be a huge help and is much appreciated. Could you email me your availability for the rest of the week when you get a chance?”

“Yes, ma'am, of course.”

“Great, thank you.” Dr. Y/L/N straightened. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Even if it's just to talk.”

Steven nodded as he followed her to the door. “I will. Thank you again, ma'am.”

“Of course.” Dr. Y/L/N looked over at Helen as she and Steven walked out together. “Helen, Donna has tendered her resignation effective immediately, so would you please get her file and begin documentation for separation of employment?”

Helen's eyebrows raised slightly. “Yes, ma'am. Straight away.”

Steven checked his watch as Dr. Y/L/N turned and headed back into her office. He still had 15 minutes left of his lunch break, so he walked back downstairs to the staff kitchen to make himself a cup of tea before his final tour group of the day.

He filled the electric kettle and plugged it in, then turned it on before getting a fresh tea bag and setting it into his cup. 

He still couldn't believe that Donna had gotten fired -- or technically quit -- and had to admit to himself that while there was no universe in which he'd actually miss her presence around the museum, the circumstances under which she had left had been rather unfortunate. 

Why are you feeling sorry for her? Marc said in his head. She treated you like shit and should've been fired years ago.

Steven shook his head. It's less that I feel bad for Donna and more that I feel bad for Dr. Y/L/N, especially since she was already so busy today. She probably won't even get a break now.

Then you know what you should do, right?

Steven smiled to himself. Yeah. Yeah, I do.

He grabbed the coffee mug Dr. Y/L/N kept in the kitchen along with one of her coffee pods, then brewed a cup of coffee before preparing it the way he knew Dr. Y/L/N liked it.

He finished also preparing his tea then grabbed both cups and headed back to Dr. Y/L/N’s office, pausing just outside the open doorway and frowning when he noticed her sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. “Dr. Y/L/N?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked up and gave Steven a tight smile. “Yes, did you need something?”

Steven walked in and set Dr. Y/L/N’s coffee on her desk. “Sorry to disturb you again but I still had some time left on my lunch break, so I made you a cup of coffee. You said you were on your way to make some when you overheard me and Donna and I wasn't sure if you'd have a chance to get away from your desk again this afternoon, so…” He trailed off.

A more genuine smile graced Dr. Y/L/N’s features. “That was incredibly thoughtful of you, Steven, thank you.”

Steven shrugged. “It was the least I could do. I hope you like it.”

Dr. Y/L/N picked up the mug and took a sip, briefly closing her eyes in bliss as she nodded. “Mmm. Mmhmm, it's perfect.”

Steven smiled. “I’m glad I got it right.”

He paused and bit his lip. “Also… Just, er, uh… That thing you said, about how if I ever need anything, even if it's just to talk? I'd like to offer the same to you.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded, another genuine smile forming on her face. “I appreciate that.”

Steven pointed towards the door. “My break is almost up and I don't want to keep delaying you from your tasks, so I better get going.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded again. “Thank you again for the coffee.”

Steven shook his head. “It's not a problem, ma'am. And I'll email you my availability for the gift shop as soon as I get back downstairs.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Steven headed out of Dr. Y/L/N’s office and towards the elevator.

He smiled to himself as he waited for it to arrive. While he knew that bringing Dr. Y/N some coffee didn't magically make her day any less busy, he hoped that he had at least been able to make it a little easier.

[revlyncox]

The Art of Spirituality (2025)

Creative arts and spiritual practices have a lot in common, and we need both to cultivate connection, resilience, and courage for the difficult times in which we find ourselves. This sermon was delivered to The Unitarian Society in East Brunswick on February 9, 2025, by Rev. Lyn Cox. A recording is available.

 

I have this habit of bursting into song at unexpected moments.  Sometimes it’s disconcerting to people around me.  Usually I’m able to contain it as humming when I’m out in public or in polite company.  When I’m around people with whom I’ve become comfortable, though, they’ll ask me how I am and I’ll say [starts singing], “When tyrants tremble as they hear the bells of freedom ringing.” 

I don’t think I have a great singing voice.   It’s just that the world makes more sense to me when it’s framed musically.

When I had been away from organized religion for awhile and I knew I needed more community in my life, one of the things I missed the most was shared music.  I missed singing in a congregation.  I missed the common language of a hymnal.  I missed hearing children learn mythic stories by singing in the children’s choir.  I wanted to think about big questions like life and death and the Divine, and I needed music to do that.  I took the risk of exploring a religious community because of that.  And because the Unitarian Universalist congregation I found was using music in worship, I could stay. 

Spirituality is an adventure for our whole selves, all the aspects of our being.  We go through our day-to-day lives solving problems and creating things with words, with actions, with space, with sounds, with emotions.  We wrestle with moral and religious questions in every one of these arenas.  Art and spirituality depend on each other so that we can engage with moral and religious questions anywhere and anytime we meet them. 

The arts have helped me engage with religious questions.  I’ve drawn some conclusions about spirituality based on my experience with different kinds of arts.  Spirituality is deeper than words. Spirituality grounds us in relationship. Spirituality moves us toward ethical action.

Deeper Than Words

Spirituality and art both invite us to dwell more deeply in our minds, hearts, and environments. Both spirituality and art can help us to let go of quick answers or surface-level noise. They may even help us to become more comfortable with silence, or to be open to the still, small voice within. To be clear, I love words. Words are very useful to me. On the other hand, every asset has its shadow side. I am really great at generating words when there is something I would rather not let myself feel. But even I sometimes can’t come up with words when I’m overwhelmed by events. Art and spirituality can help us to dwell in the place of no-easy-answers.

I used to work for an art museum affiliated with a university. I coordinated educational programs, managed volunteers, and talked with teachers about integrating museum tours and images from our collections into their curriculum. From abstract outdoor sculpture to Renaissance European paintings of saints to carved reliefs of the Buddha from India, our goal was less about conveying information than getting visitors of all ages to engage with the art, bringing their own questions and ideas. We wanted visitors to be fully present, to bring their whole selves to the encounter.

The Curator for Education taught us about the work of Philip Yenawine and Abigail Housen. Yenawine and Housen conducted research about how people engaging with visual art make meaning, and how to help people grow in their capacity to engage with art. Based on their work, the docents in their tours and I in our educational brochures posed three questions: What’s going on here? What do you see that makes you say that? What more can we find? Visitors were encouraged to trust their own experience of the art and to draw from that experience in a discussion. Information and context is useful at some point, but it does not help anyone to use that information as a barrier to prevent someone from having their own experience with the art.

The university museum’s collection included outdoor sculpture all over the campus. Some of my favorites were large, abstract pieces. I could approach them and wonder what was going on in that sculpture and pay attention to the experience rather than what I thought someone else wanted me to think about it. I could notice the strong visual lines in one sculpture having a conversation with the tall trees around it. I could notice the way the sunlight and shadows in a courtyard fell on a sculpture, adding to the drama of a piece. The question, “what more can we find,” kept my attention on the art for a little longer, helping me settle into quiet engagement with meaning.

Similarly, spirituality invites us to a place that is deeper than words. Sometimes this is serene and blissful, sometimes it’s just sitting with things that are difficult. When we face the most difficult transitions in our lives, sometimes there is nothing we can say, no way to explain or to bargain. These are the times when we need a spirituality beyond words. In her book, Glory Hallelujah!  Now Please Pick Up Your Socks, UU writer Jane Ellen Mauldin talks about such an experience. She writes:

A number of years ago, my brother lay dying in the hospital. He spent days in the intensive care unit while members of my family, including my mother, sat for many long hours on chairs in the hallway outside his room. Among visitors who came to share the vigil was a member of our church.

“How are you doing?” the friend asked.

My mother was too exhausted to tell anything but the truth. “I’m tired,” she said. “I’m very, very tired. I’m too tired to even pray anymore.”

“But don’t you see,” her friend replied, “your very presence here is a prayer.”

There are times when all words fail us, all forms seem hollow, and no one out there or inside seems to be listening. At those times, our presence, just our presence, is prayer. Our bodies, our actions, become our prayer, our connection to God, whatever God may be.

So ends the reading.  Mauldin alludes to the reason why it’s useful to have worship that uses arts not limited to words, and this is why it’s helpful to have an embodied spiritual practice.  When we come to a place when the only prayer left is our actions, it’s good to have practiced. In these times when the pace of evil seems designed to overwhelm us, being able to operate in a place that is beyond words gives us another avenue for resilience. Let’s be creative with our questions, our doubts, and our silence.

Grounding in Relationship

Something else that art and spirituality do is to ground us in relationship. The relationship may be with others around us, with history, with other practitioners, with our own souls, or with the ground of our being. In this congregation, we have learned over and over again that our relationships are enhanced through music. We have been learning to sing together again in our recovery from the social distancing phase of the pandemic; and as we learn to sing, we find more joy and a greater sense of community. Choir members and song leaders lift our spirits and find a deeper sense of connection. Creating things with our hands, bodies, and voices increases our sense of collective power, and helps us to pay attention to each other in the here and now.

This might be what Lewis Latimer was getting at in some of his creative writing. In addition to being an inventor and a scientist, Lewis Latimer also wrote a play that got produced in his lifetime and he wrote poetry. Here’s one of his poems, “Love Is All”:

“What is there in this world, beside our loves,

To keep us here?

Ambition's course is paved with hopes deferred,

With doubt and fear.

Wealth brings no joy,

And brazen-throated fame

Leaves us at last

Nought but an empty name.

Oh soul, receive the truth,

E'er heaven sends thy recall:

Nought here deserves our thought but love,

For love is all.”

(“Love is All” by Lewis Latimer, p. 39 in the anthology Been in the Storm So Long, edited by Mark Morrison-Reed and Jacqui James)

Latimer suggests that our loves, plural, collectively form the strongest force that keeps us “here.” I can imagine several meanings to where “here” might be. It is not a fixed point. “Here” moves with life and time. Here is where we put one foot in front of the other. Here is the present moment, this time and place and plane of existence. Here we are, gathered in strength, rooted in the world as it is. Love keeps us grounded in relationship in the here and now. 

In these times, it is our relationships that will sustain us and give us the strength and purpose to go forward. In healthy relationships with each other and with the Spirit of Life, we will remember our values and we will remember what is true in history, even when warped and cruel misinformation is surrounding us. When we create, when we find the ground of our being in the present moment, when we find beauty together, we can overcome the trauma response that certain elements are trying to evoke as a way of undermining our power.

People need each other. For those of us who have marginalized identities, it is essential that we have place where we show up regularly, where people will miss us and follow up if we disappear. For those of us with relative privilege, it is essential that we pay attention to the people around us and follow up when someone is missing. Investing in relationships through art and spiritual practice is a form of resistance to tyranny. Love is all.

Moving Toward Ethical Action

A third thing about both spirituality and the arts is that they can move us toward ethical action. The Poor People’s Campaign understands this. They have a songbook for their movement, and they have special training for song leaders. The campaign is inclusive of people of many faiths and no faith, and they accomplish this by being multivocal, not by asking people of faith to hide their differences or their spiritual perspectives. Art, music, and spiritual practice help us to commit things to memory, to learn them by heart, and to let our hearts thus instructed to lead us toward right action. Spiritual practice and the arts share this quality of cutting through the illusions of systemic injustice and drawing out the power we have within.

The author Toni Morrison (of blessed memory), speaking in 2016 at the Stella Adler Institute of Acting, spoke about the role of the artist. She said:

I want to remind us all that art is dangerous. I want to remind you of the history of artists who have been murdered, slaughtered, imprisoned, chopped up, refused entrance. The history of art, whether it's in music or written or what have you, has always been bloody, because dictators and people in office and people who want to control and deceive know exactly the people who will disturb their plans. And those people are artists. They're the ones that tell the truth. And that is something that society has got to protect.

In our own time and context, book bans and curriculum purges and attacks on libraries are just the beginning of another wave of attacks on the arts. Just this week, we learned that the Kennedy Center is under threat. Art and artists need us. It is important that we support artists with our attention and kindness; that we purchase art and music created by real, live artists and not corporate-owned large language models; and that we use our own powers of creation to tell bold truths.

Just as engagement with the arts can prepare us to speak truth to power, so can spiritual practice. Yes, it’s also true that faith can be co-opted for imperialism, so we need to be accountable to each other and to the people who are most impacted by systemic oppression. That being said, throughout human history, spiritual practice has been one of the resources that strengthened people who were making change toward love and liberation. In recent weeks, we have seen the courage of the Right Reverend Mariann Budde, who drew directly from sacred text to urge the administration to practice mercy. For this, critics called her all kinds of names, and one legislator even suggested that she should be deported. The un-elected shadow President openly accused Church World Service and various Lutheran aid organizations of criminality. Even the Vice President, who calls himself a Catholic, characterized the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops as helping refugees in order to pad their “bottom line,” and implied that helping refugees was illegal. Just like art, spirituality when practiced with integrity and compassion is dangerous.

If we are going to choose the path of integrity and compassion, which we are; if we are going to put love at the center of our Unitarian Universalist faith, which we are; if we are going to risk speaking the truth, which we are; we need practices that will keep us connected to our paths and to each other. We need ways of committing our values to mind and heart. We need to invoke the memory of our ancestors, and we need to commit to being the kind of ancestor that the people who come after us can be proud of. Practices of art and spirituality will give us courage.

Practices that help us to sustain ethical action come in a lot of different forms. Embodied or interactive practices have a lot to recommend them. Your practice might be hiking or baking or crocheting blankets; whatever it is, if it helps you connect with that which is larger than yourself and to tap into your human power to thrive and make change, go for it. Your practice might be meditation, prayer, dance, or chanting; something that reminds you of sacred text or spiritual lineage or your deepest values. Let’s lean into our practices to help us to speak the truth, do justice, and love kindness.

Conclusion

In the end, artistic practices and spiritual practices have a lot in common. Both can lead us to a place deeper than words, a place where we can sit with lamentation and pain and growth; a place for our doubts and questions; a place where silence can make room for what hasn’t yet emerged. Both art and spirituality can ground us in relationship as we create and engage together, as we connect with the transcendent and with the deepest truths we hold within. Both art and spirituality can move us to ethical action, giving us inspiration and courage to be our whole, authentic selves, even in times such as this.

May you find and sustain practices that are deep, connecting, and encouraging. May creativity nourish your path. May we align with the Love at our center and with the Spirit of Life in our habits of the heart.

So be it. Blessed be. Amen.

[coochiequeens]

Men can't let women have anything for ourselves

An Australian museum has been ordered to allow men into a women's-only exhibit, following a high-stakes court case over the matter.

The Ladies Lounge at Tasmania's Museum of Old and New Art (Mona) sought to highlight historic misogyny by banning male visitors.

After being denied entry, one filed a gender discrimination lawsuit, which he won on Tuesday.

"We are deeply disappointed by this decision," a Mona representative said.

The velvet-clad lounge - which contains some of the museum's most-acclaimed works, from Picasso to Sidney Nolan - has been open since 2020.

It was designed to take the concept of an old Australian pub - a space which largely excluded women until 1965 - and turn it on its head, offering champagne and five-star service to female attendees, while refusing men at the door.

Jason Lau, a New South Wales resident who visited Mona in April of last year, was one such male.

Representing himself throughout the case, he argued that the museum had violated the state's anti-discrimination act by failing to provide "a fair provision of goods and services in line with the law" to him and other ticket holders who didn't identify as female.

The museum had responded by claiming the rejection Mr Lau had felt was part of the artwork, and that the law in Tasmania allowed for discrimination if it was "designed to promote equal opportunity" for a group of people who had been historically disadvantaged.

In his ruling, Richard Grueber dismissed the argument - finding that it was "not apparent" how preventing men from experiencing the famous artworks held within the Ladies Lounge achieved that goal.

Throughout the case, the museum's supporters, including artist Kirsha Kaechele - who created the work - had used the courtroom as a space for performance art, wearing matching navy suits and engaging in synchronised movements.

Mr Grueber said that while the behaviour of the women hadn't disrupted the hearing, it was "inappropriate, discourteous and disrespectful, and at worst contumelious and contemptuous".

His decision to allow "persons who do not identify as ladies" to access the exhibit will come into effect in 28 days.

Ms Kaechele previously told the BBC the case had felt like her artwork was coming to life and signalled she would fight it all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary.

But she also noted that having the Ladies Lounge shut down could help drive home its intended message.

"If you were just looking at it from an aesthetic standpoint, being forced to close would be pretty powerful."

A spokesperson for Mona said the museum would "take some time to absorb the result" and consider its options.

[greatwesternway]

How did Pioneer and U-505 start talking? What made U-505 allow himself that friendship?

It's important to understand that U-505's not denying himself friendship in being stand-offish. And this is also not related to the rules he has to observe as a war machine because Pioneer is a civilian engine.

U-505 allowed Pioneer to start teaching him English within a month or two of his arrival in May in 1960. Up until then, U-505 had gleaned a few words on his own, but he'd been set up outside by himself since 1954 and the museum would have someone who could speak German talk to him if needed. He didn't need to speak to the visitors really so it just wasn't something he'd ever sought to learn.

But having Pioneer installed next to him... trains are social machines. They work closely with one another and they talk. And Pioneer was built to be especially talkative as Burlington's flagship engine.

But moreover, the reason U-505 made the effort is because he admired the way Pioneer took to preservation.

It was obviously a much different scenario for U-505, since his preservation is not one celebrating his existence and it also involved the loss of his sea-worthiness. In that regard, Pioneer was in a much better position. Still, he struggled, as most engines do, with the change in duties. It's why early on in his letters to Pilot, before he realizes he's been rescued from scrap and is grateful to be at the IRM, that Pioneer says that preservation can feel like a demotion. It's hard for an engine to have to come to terms with the end of his service life.

The way Pioneer responded to this, though, was to set those feelings aside and put his best effort into being a good and engaging exhibit. As we've said, he's already got a lot of transferable skills to do this, but U-505 had never seen a machine like this. He didn't know much English, but he could still tell that Pioneer was trying very hard to adapt and not to complain or be ungrateful.

Pioneer would sometimes talk at U-505 just to entertain himself or to make a gesture at including him in conversation with his cars, but U-505 made the first actual attempt at talking. He asked Pioneer, in very broken English, how fast he went. And Pioneer told him; 112 miles per hour. Then Pioneer asked U-505 how fast he went. Which U-505 could not tell him because his speed is measured in knots. They got their guides to help the next day.

Things would have been quite friendly in the yard by now if it weren't for 2903.

See, the problem is, 2903 is wartime build. Because light metals were needed to build airplanes, all that railroad works could get was heavy metal. Too heavy for diesel motors to carry. So they made the 2900 class fuck-off big steam engines instead. Unfortunately, because steam is very costly to run and maintain, this meant that 2903's service life was incredibly short compared to most engines, only 11 years. He is resentful of the effect the war had on his service life and U-505 is a very broad target for those feelings.

He also did not take to preservation as well as Pioneer did, being that he is literally Just Some Guy and had no expectation of ever being put in this position. Having watched Pioneer's transition to preservation work comparatively, 2903's refusal or inability to meet the job left U-505 with a poor impression of him. What little English U-505 had at his disposal could be used to toss a glib barb or two 2903's way.

2903 (and 999 when she joins the yard the next year) hassled Pioneer a lot for fraternizing with an enemy unit. It doesn't bother Pioneer because it's not that serious in the grand scheme of things. U-505 does not like being a source of trouble for him though and regrets that Pioneer got put in the yard with him first.

This is the reason why he's reluctant to entertain 727. It's not that he doesn't like her or isn't flattered (if bewildered) by her attentions. It's that he thinks she's better off not getting herself involved with him. It hasn't done Pioneer any favors.

But by the time 727 arrives at the museum, 2903 has been moved to the IRM, 999 has been away for a couple years for refurbishment, and the social dynamic in the museum has changed for it.

It's actually 999 that convinces him to give in. Asks if there isn't something in his prize rules about having to accept when an American wants a smelly old boat for reasons she couldn't possibly fathom. There's not - 727 isn't a war machine - but it says something that 999 is trying to find a justification for the idea.

[rabbitcruiser]

Tennessee was admitted as the 16th state of the United States on June 1, 1796.    

Statehood Day in Tennessee

Statehood Day in Tennessee bursts with excitement each June 1st, marking the day Tennessee joined the Union in 1796 as the 16th state.

This special day is not just a local celebration but a vibrant reminder of Tennessee’s unique contributions to the nation’s history.

It’s a day filled with pride for Tennesseans, who celebrate not only their past achievements but also the dynamic culture that continues to evolve within their state.

The importance of Statehood Day stretches beyond mere commemoration. It embodies the spirit of unity and civic pride. Tennesseans and visitors alike engage in activities that highlight the state’s rich history and cultural significance.

From visiting historical sites to participating in community events, the day offers a multitude of ways to connect with Tennessee’s heritage.

Museums, like the Tennessee State Museum, often host special events that provide insights into the state’s journey to statehood and its development over the centuries.

Ultimately, Statehood Day fosters a sense of community and historical awareness. It’s a time to reflect on the state’s journey and celebrate its ongoing story.

Whether it’s through exploring museums, enjoying local music, or learning about Tennessee’s pivotal moments, the day offers something for everyone to appreciate and enjoy, strengthening the bond among its people and visitors.​

History of Statehood Day in Tennessee

Statehood Day in Tennessee marks the state’s entry into the Union in 1796 as the 16th state. Its journey to statehood began earlier, in 1790, when Tennessee became the Southwest Territory.

Under Governor William Blount, the territory aimed to meet the population requirement of 60,000 free male residents to gain statehood.

By 1795, a census revealed that the Southwest Territory had met this requirement. Tennessee then petitioned Congress for statehood, a bold move inspired by its people’s resilience and desire for representation.

On June 1, 1796, Congress approved Tennessee’s petition, marking a significant milestone in the state’s history.

Statehood Day celebrates Tennessee’s rich history and the bold vision of its founders. Today, it reminds people of Tennessee’s contributions to American culture and politics, showcasing its vibrant heritage.

The day brings together Tennesseans to celebrate their shared history and future​.

How to Celebrate Statehood Day in Tennessee

Get Historical at Museums

Celebrate Statehood Day by exploring Tennessee’s past in museums. Dive into captivating exhibits showcasing artifacts and documents that reveal how this state came to be.

Feel the history come alive while learning about the journey from territory to statehood​​.

Parade with Pride

Join a local parade to show your love for Tennessee’s statehood. March down the streets waving flags and shouting for joy. Get dressed in red, white, and blue, and join your neighbors in celebrating the state’s legacy​.

Reenactment Revelry

Step back in time with reenactments of Tennessee’s early days. Watch history buffs portray early settlers, soldiers, and politicians who helped shape Tennessee’s identity.

Marvel at their attention to detail while they bring the olden days to life.

Crafting Celebrations

Get creative with Statehood Day crafts. Make art that celebrates Tennessee’s symbols, from the mockingbird to the iris. Share your masterpieces with friends and spread the statehood joy all around​​.

Musical Melodies

Embrace Tennessee’s rich musical heritage. Attend local concerts or jam out to your favorite Tennessee-born artists at home. Let the tunes bring rhythm to your celebrations.​

Source

[ofcruelheart]

* ◟ : 〔 DEVON AOKI , CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER 〕 AZUSA FUJIWARA , some say you’re a THIRTY SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both HEADSTRONG and IMPULSIVE, one can’t help but think of MIZU SUITE by AMIE DOHERTY when you walk by. are you still a CAPO, FREELANCE MERMAID for THE DEAD HAND, SELF-EMPLOYED, even with your reputation as THE BLACK PEARL? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and LUMINESCENT PEARLS AND SHELLS INLAID WITHIN THE HILT OF KATANAS, BARE FEET DANCING UPON SHATTERED GLASS AS THEY WOULD UPON AN OCEAN FLOOR, RUEFULLY STARING INTO THE HORIZON AND DENYING YOUR OWN HOMESICKNESS, although we can’t help but think of MIZU ( BLUE EYE SAMURAI ) + OYUKI ( LADY SNOWBLOOD ) + YOR FORGER ( SPY X FAMILY ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

Name: Azusa Fujiwara Age: 37 Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: Bisexual Affiliation, Role: The Dead Hands, Capo Occupation: Previously, an ama, a pearl diver--she will always consider herself as such; currently a freelance mermaid Notable Attributes: Cutting, thrilling dark eyes, hair the color and luminescence of undyed silk trailing down to her waist, unrivaled agility, a siren's grace in and out of water but a sailor's mouth, literally deranged logic Tropes: Silk Hiding Steel, Disproportionate Retribution, Lady of War, Didn't Think This Through, Insane Troll Logic, Lightning Bruiser

tw: murder

-

海女

-

Their lineage trace its origins to ama during the Heian period—Japanese divers plunging into the depths for pearls and abalone, offerings destined for shrines or emperors. The women of the family mastering the art of reading tides and waves, rendering their descent into the abyss more fruitful. They wear white in their dives to symbolize purity and to ward away sharks. Sometimes they wear nothing at all. Their pearls delicately grace the bosoms of consorts, and their abalones, plump and fat, bedeck the altar. Among ama, they are revered.

Nearly two thousand years later, the demands in their craft and the bounty of their catches dwindle. While the pearl cultivation technique has since developed, and ama divers are no longer required, its success wouldn’t have been possible without their contribution. Her lineage, in particular, has transformed into a tourist attraction at Mikimoto Pearl Island, captivating visitors with their daily diving demonstrations at the museum. It is a humiliation, her mother bemoans, a far cry from their days of lining crowns and shrines with pearls, but she is in the minority. The rest of their kin, and the other ama, are grateful there is still a place for them at all to share their art. Azusa thinks the act of serving has simply shifted. From shrines and emperors to tourists and gift shops.

In spite of this, they find she is a marvel underwater, carving through currents and waves like a knife, emerging from the depths with oysters cradling the largest, roundest pearls. She remains silent as they are transported to the museum shop, celebrated as treasures hand-captured by one of Japan's oldest pearl-diving lineages. Her demonstrations at the museum become among the most beloved, thanks in part to her showmanship—how she entertains the crowds with graceful acrobatics during her dives, earning her the moniker 'The Mermaid of Mikimoto' for her swift maneuvers beneath the cresting waves and her enigmatic smile as she unveils the bounty concealed within an oyster.

It is during one of her demonstrations that she notices a group of foreigners engaged in boisterous conversation, their laughter permeating the air, accompanied by remarks about her speaking. Annoying and somewhat distracting, she dismisses it from her mind. Only when she splits open an oyster does she cast a glance their way once more. A man makes a crude gesture towards her, signaling to his companions in an unmistakable manner. Fury pulses through her veins, though her countenance betrays nothing.

Chaos ensues only in the night, when the museum and the island shuts down for the evening, and onto the next day. The foreigner, the very same who had made the crude gesture, is found washed up on the island's shores. Her kin know there is only one to blame. To save her from punishment, they send her off to America, to New York, to live with her father, far from all she's ever known.

Her father, as it turns out, presides over another enduring lineage in the city—matchmakers. Having garnered the favor of the city's oldest families, ethical or not, his lineage boasts a storied history of uniting esteemed families. It is not a vocation that suits her, they quickly find out, but it is through a misfire that she becomes entwined with another - The Dead Hands.

Her acrobatics, athleticism, and penchant for violence lend themselves well to the organization, and cloaked in the whispers of iridescent silk, her presence is a dance of shifting hues, a reflection of the depths she once navigated as a pearl diver and the new depths she cuts through now. Her weapons, adorned with luminescent pearls, tell tales of her past. Each blade is a crafted tribute to the ocean's treasures, now wielded with the deftness of a capo. Her steps leaves no ripples, just as a drowning leaves nothing in its wake.

SUMMARY: Rooted in the ancient tradition of ama during the Heian period, Azusa's lineage, a revered group of Japanese divers, once plunged into the depths to retrieve pearls and abalone for offerings to shrines and emperors. Over the centuries, their craft transformed into a tourist attraction at Mikimoto Pearl Island, with Azusa herself captivating audiences with her breathtaking underwater prowess, earning her the title 'The Mermaid of Mikimoto.' However, a disturbing encounter with disrespectful foreigners during a demonstration leads to a tragic turn of events. To avoid punishment for the death of one of the offenders, Azusa is sent to live with her father in America, only to discover his involvement in a prestigious lineage of matchmakers. Unsuited for such endeavors, Azusa's trajectory takes a darker turn when her skills attract the attention of The Dead Hands, an organization that sees her acrobatics, athleticism, and penchant for violence as valuable assets. Cloaked in iridescent silk and wielding weapons adorned with luminescent pearls, Azusa's journey weaves together the depths of her past as a pearl diver with the newfound shadows she navigates in her capo role.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

an expansion of how she became involved in the dead hands - perhaps she set up an ill-fated match with one of its members? perhaps she became involved in an ill-fated match??

her daytime occupation is a freelance mermaid, which, to her is a humiliating perversion of the art she had practiced. hire her for your pool parties or adult soirees!

more of her past matchmaking misfires coming back to bite her in the ass lol and no, she can't issue refunds

a handler tbh, she is a menace

[pattypatootie]

The Missing Puzzle Piece

In a hidden place where the sky meets its people, an enchanting journey awaits. Veiled by the clouds that conceal the treasures of Sagada lying within, an extraordinary expedition is guaranteed. Nestled in the heart of Sagada are its people, who show warmth and care for their visitors. Truly, it completes and makes the experience worth it.

Sagada boasts a lot of offerings. Ranging from its lush mountains to its welcoming locals who create a homely atmosphere. This tranquil destination provides a haven for those seeking solace and peace, offering an indescribable yet deeply satisfying experience to individuals yearning to escape the chaos of the world. Embarking on your first journey can be a blend of emotions, with a mix of nervousness and excitement. Nevertheless, the crucial step in overcoming these feelings is to wholeheartedly relish every moment of your travel. Sagada stands out as a dependable destination in this regard, providing a never-ending series of surprises that will enable you to thoroughly enjoy your visit. For a first-time traveler, it's essential to focus on the positive aspects and allow your experiences to naturally become a part of your journey. In doing so, you can engage in sightseeing, immersing yourself in the wondrous landscapes of the area, all while savoring their specially brewed Sagada coffee. This not only enables you to admire the surroundings but also provides an opportunity to taste one of their locally crafted products with pride. Once you are ready to step up your game, consider engaging in hiking in the abundant mountains of Sagada. You'll find yourself speechless upon reaching the summit, as you will be greeted by a breathtaking and spectacular view. Furthermore, it's equally important to not only admire the natural beauty of the destination but also immerse yourself in its rich culture and history. A visit to the Ganduyan Museum is recommended, as it houses the diverse history of Sagada. This experience will provide valuable insights into the place and its people, fostering a deeper appreciation for the destination.

All these elements contribute to making your journey exceptionally thrilling, yet Sagada continues to unveil even more offerings to enhance your experience. Undoubtedly, there is a fulfilling sense in traveling and discovering a purpose in the right place. It feels like finding that missing puzzle piece that completes the picture.

Type of article: Destination pieces

Target audience: First-time travelers

Topic: Reasons to dive in and travel the wonders of Sagada

#travelwritingandphotography

[pinkboxess]

⭐️I want you to do a little directors cut so bad but I don’t have the time right now to pull out a specific scene from one of your fics so you chose!!⭐️

Okay, after thinking, I'm going to talk about sunflowers, again. I'll add a cut since this will get long. Also this is like....heavy and sad, so sorry about that.

This is one of my fics where I actually put more artistic thought into it. I wrote the fic after I visited a Monet exhibit in February. It made me think about Ted's visit to the Van Gogh museum in season 3, and the connections between him and Van Gogh (sunflowers, suicide), and thus the fic was born.

I'll give some more behind-the-scenes details about some of the sections

“Do you have any guns, knives, or other weapons on your person?” the employee asks. “No siree bob,” replies Ted. “Only guns in the room are these bad boys.” He flexes his arm comically, causing Rebecca to choke on a smothered laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

When I visited the Monet exhibit there was a security agent who asked us about weapons. I just imagined how Ted might respond to the same thing when he's feeling anxious and rambly

In the next room, the museum has placed Cafe Terrace at Night and Wheatfield with Crows adjacent to each other. They have similar colours: bright mustard yellow, a deep, powerful blue. Whenever Rebecca looks at art, she imagines herself inside of it. What might it be like to order dinner at that cafe? Or to chase the crows away from the wheat?

This is often how I engage with art. I imagine myself inhabiting it. I am really interested in historical clothing (and furniture and items generally, to a lesser degree) and I love to go to museums just to look at items and imagine who wore them, used them, and inhabited them. Imagined what it would be like to be the person who wore that dress. Place myself within their perspective by gazing at something that once was part of their life.

“He did it cause he didn’t think he was a good dad. Didn’t think he mattered.” “Oh, love,” Rebecca soothes. “But look at this guy. He thought the same thing, but here we are, all these years later lookin’ at his art.”

This section is heavily inspired by the Van Gogh episode of Doctor Who. I'm not really a Doctor Who fan, but a friend of mine made me go watch a clip of that episode specifically, and it has violently imprinted itself into my mind.

In the episode, Vincent time travels with the Doctor to a museum displaying his work. The Doctor is doing it to convince Vincent that he is famous in the future and people love his work. He's hesitant to believe it because in his own lifetime he wasn't valued as an artist.

Then the curator of the museum says to a visitor that Van Gogh is possibly the greatest artist who ever lived, and Vincent hears him, and he gets it.

It is just so striking to me to imagine an experience like that. It's something that never could really happen, because it's sci-fi, but it's incredible to think about. What if you could know how people think about you decades or centuries in the future? After you're gone? What if you could see your legacy before it's even happened, and see that you even have a legacy at all?

We don't know anything about Ted's dad really, but I suppose in my imagination I think he's the type of person who would be changed by the experience of watching Ted go to therapy and process his trauma. If he thought he was someone who didn't matter in life, he might be surprised to see how Ted engages with his memory after his death. Ted's statement of "I still need my dad" is my attempt at something would impact Ted's father in a way that mirrors Van Gogh's reaction to the words of the curator. And I think Ted might think, in his own mind, that by healing himself, he is also kind of healing what happened with his dad, in some way.

Even later, a few weeks after their museum trip, Rebecca comes home to find a print of Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers hung up in the kitchen. She doesn’t ask him about it. She doesn’t need to: she sees his quiet smile as he looks at it while he cooks for her. 

This ending is a manifestation of that feeling for Ted. He's not avoiding Van Gogh-- in fact he's actively bringing it into the house-- because he thinks of it as part of the healing process.

[urbanghoststories]

The Witch of Kinver Edge

The next few blogs will tell the tale of the Staffordshire Witches - This one is all about The Witch of Kinver Edge.

Nestled within the picturesque landscapes of Staffordshire, England, lies a captivating legend that has enchanted generations and stirred the imagination of locals and visitors alike. The tale of the Witch of Kinver Edge weaves a tapestry of mystery, magic, and the ethereal beauty of the natural world. Let’s delve into the heart of this captivating legend, exploring the folklore, history, and cultural significance of the enigmatic figure known as the Witch of Kinver Edge.

High atop Kinver Edge, a sandstone ridge that overlooks the charming village of Kinver, lived a woman shrouded in mystery and cloaked in legend. Known as the Witch of Kinver Edge, she was believed to possess supernatural powers that bridged the gap between the mortal and the mystical. A figure of wisdom and intrigue, the witch was said to have dwelled in a cave or secluded dwelling, engaging with the secrets of nature and the mysteries of the human heart.

She was often depicted as an old and wise figure, attuned to the rhythms of the natural world. Her magical abilities were said to extend to healing, as villagers sought her out to cure ailments and foretell the future. Her connection with the land and its creatures painted her as a guardian of the earth, a potent blend of ancient pagan practices and local Christian traditions.

Within the embrace of her enigmatic aura, the witch commanded both reverence and fear. The villagers' belief in her abilities spoke volumes about the intricate dance between humanity and the unknown. Her cave on Kinver Edge was rumoured to be a portal to a realm beyond, where ancient spirits whispered their secrets and the boundary between reality and the mystical blurred.

The legend of the Witch of Kinver Edge is not just a story; it's an integral part of the local cultural fabric. It resonates with the echoes of a time when folklore and oral traditions were woven into the daily lives of villagers. The witch's legacy reminds us of the importance of embracing the mystical and acknowledging our connection to the natural world.

Though time marches on, her spirit endures. Her legend continues to capture the hearts of those who visit Kinver Edge, drawn by its natural beauty and the lingering whispers of the past. Local historical societies, museums, and community organisations honour the witch's memory, celebrating the heritage she embodies and the tales she left behind.

Margaret of the Fox Earth: Margaret of the Fox Earth, or Meg O’ Fox Holes, was a real person who is reputed to have lived a solitary existence in the cave dwellings of Kinver Edge on the border between Worcestershire and Staffordshire during the 17th Century. Whilst others lived there in community, Margaret’s cave, known as Nanny’s Cave or Rock, was set apart, obscured by woodland. She may have been a witch, or a Christian hermit, or both; our own Desert Mother, but very little is known about her. What we do know is that there is an entry in Parish records telling us that a ‘Margaret-of-the-Fox-Earth’ died there on 8th June 1617.

Conclusion: The Witch of Kinver Edge stands as a bridge between the mundane and the magical, an embodiment of the timeless fascination with the unknown. Her legend reminds us that beneath the layers of history, within the contours of the land, and amidst the rustling leaves, stories of enchantment and wonder await those who dare to listen. As we wander the paths of Kinver Edge, we tread in the footsteps of generations who, like us, sought to unravel the enigma of the Witch of Kinver Edge.

[travelblog88]

Dive into Andaman's Marine Marvels: Explore Samudrika Museum and Unlock Essential Travel Tips!

Embarking on an adventure to the enchanting Andaman Islands guarantees a rendezvous with pristine beaches, azure waters, and a vibrant underwater world. Among the myriad attractions that beckon travelers, the Samudrika Marine Museum stands as a gateway to Andaman's marine treasures. In this exploration, we delve into the wonders housed within the Samudrika Marine Museum and provide essential Travel Tips For Andaman to ensure an unforgettable island adventure.

Samudrika Museum: Gateway to Andaman's Marine World

Nestled in the heart of Port Blair, the Samudrika Naval Marine Museum is a testament to the rich marine biodiversity that graces the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Operated by the Indian Navy, the museum serves as an educational hub, offering insights into the diverse aquatic life, coral ecosystems, and the indigenous communities that call these islands home.

Exploring Samudrika's Marine Treasures

1. Coral Diversity Showcase

Samudrika Museum unfolds like a vivid tapestry, showcasing the diverse coral species that thrive in the Andaman Sea. Intricately crafted exhibits provide a visual feast, offering a glimpse into the kaleidoscope of colors that characterize the underwater coral gardens.

2. Rare Marine Species Exhibits

The museum proudly displays exhibits featuring rare and endangered marine species indigenous to the Andaman Islands. From vibrant fish species to elusive sea turtles, each display is a window into the delicate balance of the island's marine ecosystem.

3. Indigenous Tribes and Marine Conservation

Samudrika goes beyond marine life, shedding light on the indigenous tribes inhabiting the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Engaging exhibits highlight the symbiotic relationship between these tribes and the marine environment, emphasizing the importance of sustainable practices for the conservation of the islands' natural resources.

Interactive Learning: Samudrika's Educational Initiatives

1. Marine Conservation Workshops

The museum regularly hosts workshops and educational programs focused on marine conservation. Visitors have the opportunity to participate in interactive sessions, gaining a deeper understanding of the delicate ecosystems that thrive beneath the Andaman waters.

2. Guided Tours by Marine Experts

For a more immersive experience, consider opting for guided tours led by marine experts. These experts provide valuable insights into the scientific aspects of marine life, adding a layer of depth to the exhibits.

3. Virtual Reality Dives

Samudrika Museum takes learning to new heights with virtual reality dives. Visitors can don VR headsets and embark on simulated underwater journeys, bringing them face to face with the captivating marine life that inhabits the Andaman Sea.

Essential Travel Tips for Your Andaman Adventure

Planning a trip to Andaman involves more than just exploring museums. Here are some essential travel tips to ensure a seamless and enjoyable experience:

1. Weather Considerations

Andaman experiences tropical weather throughout the year. While November to April is considered the best time to visit, it's essential to check weather conditions and plan activities accordingly.

2. Permits and Entry Requirements

Obtain the necessary permits for visiting restricted areas well in advance. Ensure you have all required documents, including photo IDs and permits, to avoid any complications during your stay.

3. Island-Hopping Itinerary

Andaman comprises numerous islands, each with its own unique charm. Plan your itinerary to include visits to popular destinations like Havelock, Neil, and Ross Islands, ensuring a diverse and enriching experience.

4. Snorkeling and Scuba Diving

Take advantage of Andaman's renowned underwater beauty. Whether you're a seasoned diver or a novice snorkeler, explore the vibrant coral reefs and marine life that make Andaman a diver's paradise.

5. Respect Local Customs and Tribes

Andaman is home to indigenous tribes with rich cultural traditions. Respect their customs, avoid intrusive behavior, and adhere to any guidelines set by authorities to preserve the cultural heritage of the islands.

6. Sustainable Practices

Contribute to the conservation of Andaman's natural beauty. Opt for eco-friendly activities, minimize plastic usage, and adhere to responsible tourism practices to ensure the islands remain a pristine haven for generations to come.

7. Connectivity and Communication

Stay informed about local connectivity and communication options. While mobile networks are available, some remote areas might have limited coverage. Plan accordingly to stay connected during your exploration.

Conclusion: A Marine Odyssey in Andaman

In conclusion, Samudrika Museum serves as the gateway to Andaman's marine wonders, offering a glimpse into the vibrant underwater world that defines this tropical paradise. As you plan your Andaman adventure, weave together the insights gained from Samudrika with essential travel tips to ensure a seamless, enriching, and respectful exploration of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.

[dannyfoley]

Temple Bar Gallery + Studios , Tale Ends & Eternal Wakes, a new exhibition by Mairead O’hEocha.

Gorillas, horses, frogs, herons, and other animals have always held a valued role in Mairead O’hEocha’s paintings. In this new body of work the birds and beasts that find themselves enclosed in museum dioramas are celebrated, anatomised and commemorated. But it is not only the animal species that are represented, it is the entire artifice of their reproduction through taxidermy, and subsequent display in museum cabinets. O’hEocha’s depictions of the dioramas in Dublin’s Natural History Museum (or Dead Zoo) bring to light an important balance in her constituent subjects and their contextual arrangement. Where previously O’hEocha’s representation of animals was encoded within her broader visual lexicon, the animals now fully occupy the frame, gesturing to the viewer on their own terms. This is impossible, of course, as the animals’ gestures are appealing precisely because of their oblivious regard for the viewer. O’hEocha’s selective compositional approach to painting reflects the meticulous arrangements of taxidermied animals in constructed artificial environments, and her ongoing engagement with representation and image-making highlight important issues about accepted institutional forms of presentation. O’hEocha goes beyond the urgency of current environmental concerns to present artworks that chart human anxieties, such as fear, desire and control. The paintings ask how we can better acknowledge the limitations of archetypal conventions of display, while also celebrating the complexities of representing the natural world today.

John Berger has compared the repetition of viewing a conventional gallery exhibition to the anticipated disappointment of visiting a zoo, and O’hEocha here acknowledges, subverts and reflects on the limitations of display. For the first time, she will show monochromatic ink drawings on paper that situate improvised and varied techniques of drawing alongside exacting and distinctively prismatic oil paintings on board and canvas. The drawings show monkeys and birds unbound from display cabinets, and the free-form, accumulative installation teases the animals to leap from one sheet of paper to another, defying the prescribed limitations of the museological ordering system. It would be a shame at this point to ignore that the art gallery, its visitors and its windows facing the busy city street reflect a parallel menagerie.

Natural History museums in the 21st century have a precarious position in the public eye. While they offer valuable scientific data that promotes progressive attitudes towards the natural world in an era of climate catastrophe, they are also residual embodiments of colonialism, hierarchical classification and cataloguing, and economic exploitation (5). Referencing Donna Haraway’s critique of the American Museum of Natural History, Catalina Lozano claims that representation of animals in museum dioramas ‘reproduces a narrative of dominance, a second defeat over the dead animal’ (6), and that the displays create a ‘permanently specular image, a ghost’ (7), whose imitation of life is extended indefinitely.

The exhibition title, Tale Ends & Eternal Wakes, echoes this state of suspension, or undetermined afterlife, in which the moment at the cusp of death is prolonged and made visible to all. Maeve Connolly has described O’hEocha’s paintings as ‘deliberate compressions of time’ (8), which is inescapably contrary to the display of the ‘denaturised’ subjects she paints. The ‘naturalisation’ of museum dioramas, their quantifiable value systems, and directed single viewing perspective, are a palatable means of rationalising the joyful and complex intangibility of nature. O’hEocha’s paintings are closer to the sublime disorder of the natural world in all its profound and perplexing splendour (9).

In an essay on fly-tying and representation, artist Joseph Grigely shares an old fishing secret: ‘its not the image alone that matters, but the way the image moves’ (10). This poetic analogy reveals some of the contemporary complexities around representation, and we know superficial caricatures are not a substitute for the real thing, particularly when considering the natural world: ‘It’s not so much about imitating flies as it is about creating desirable fictions’ (11). Rather than relying on representation, like the museum dioramas, Mairead O’hEocha appreciates human and sensory responses to ideas of nature through subtle decisions about form and gesture, such as the absolute stillness of an antelope or the reflective iridescence of a kingfisher’s wing. By simultaneously drawing us into the cabinet, and pulling the animals outside of it, back into the real world, O’hEocha’s exhibition prompts us to reconsider the entire dynamic between object and viewer.

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Tale Ends & Eternal Wakes originally opened in February but closed shortly after, as Ireland went into lockdown, in response to the Covid-19 pandemic. It is hard to avoid the feelings of confinement and isolation that many of us experienced over the past months when looking at O’hEocha’s paintings of animals in museum display cabinets.

To acknowledge the unique circumstances and the reopening of the exhibition, O’hEocha has produced several new works on paper in a reconfigured installation, and will continue to add to and expand the installation. It is as if the animals have reproduced and now occupy more space, inviting urgent questions on how the animal kingdom might survive in a post-human world.

‘Whenever a human being confronts a living creature, whether in actuality or in reflections, the ‘real life’ animal is accompanied by an inseparable image of that animal’s essence that is made up of, or influenced by, pre-existing individual, cultural, or societal conditioning’, Elizabeth Atwood Lawrence, “The Sacred Bee, the Filthy Pig, and the Bat out of Hell: Animal Symbolism as Cognitive Biophilia”, in The Biophilia Hypothesis, ed. Stephen R. Kellert and Edward O. Wilson (Island Press, 1993)

‘Visitors visit a zoo to look at animals. They proceed from cage to cage, not unlike visitors to an art gallery who stop in front of one painting, and then move on to the next or the one after next. Yet in the zoo the view is always wrong. Like an image out of focus.’, John Berger, ‘Why Look at Animals?’, in About Looking (Penguin, 1980)

Jorge Luis Borges’ short tale, Fauna of Mirrors, tells of the mirror creatures who, due to the actions of men, are imprisoned within an alternate realm of the mirror. The myth states that over time, the trapped beings will recover their power, ‘break through the barriers of glass and metal and this time will not be defeated.’, Jorge Luis Borges, ‘Fauna of Mirrors’, in Book of Imaginary Beings (Penguin, 2006)

In a recent news article, Nigel Monaghan, Keeper of Dublin’s Natural History Museum advocates for natural history collections as ‘key to understanding biodiversity over the last few centeries.’, Juliana Adelman, ‘New science in old places: museums are crucial part of scientific research’, The Irish Times, Tuesday, January 7, 2020. Writer and curator, Rachel Poliquin, on the other hand, has described some of the contemporary criticisms of museum collections and displays: ‘Museums with nineteenth-century roots have been criticised as complicit with the colonial project, and their collections branded as imperial archives…in a Discovery Channel age, when wildlife videos can bring living, breathing, fighting, mating creatures into everyone’s home, no shooting or stuffing required, filling darkened halls with dead animals seems – to some – almost perverse’. Rachel Poliquin, ‘The Matter and Meaning of Museum Taxidermy’, in ANIMALS: Documents of Contemporary Art, ed. Filipa Ramos (Whitechapel Gallery and The MIT Press, 2016)

Charles Wolfe argues that ‘Nature can only be grasped as such in various localised, constructed, indeed artificial environments’ such as zoos, parks, and museums. Charles Wolfe in conversation with Olivier Surel, ‘On the Aestheticization, Institutionalization, and Dramatization of the Concept of Nature’, in Theater, Garden, Bestiary: A Materialist History of Exhibitions, ed. Tristan Garcia & Vincent Normand (Sternberg Press, 2019). He is referencing Denis Diderot’s romantic description of the natural world outside the display case or enclosure: ‘Whichever side we approach it from, we find masses (clusters, heaps) which transport us with admiration, groups which call for our attention in the most surprising manner’, Denis Diderot, ‘Cabinet d’Histoire Naturelle’, Œuvres completes, ed. H. Dieckmann, J. Proust, and J. Varloot (Hermann, 1975). Translation by Charles Wolfe.

[theotakufiles]

Guardians of the Louvre Manga

"Guardians of the Louvre" is an adventurous animated series that takes viewers on a thrilling journey through time, art, and history. Set in the iconic Louvre Museum in Paris, the story follows a group of extraordinary teenagers who discover they possess unique powers linked to famous artworks.

When the night falls and visitors leave, these young guardians transform into their alter egos – men and women with mystical abilities granted by the art itself! With each episode devoted to a different artifact or painting within the museum's extensive collection, our heroes embark on quests to protect and unravel secrets locked within these masterpieces.

Together, they confront vivid manifestations conjured from paintings like Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile turning into riddles or a thunderous storm unleashed from Delacroix's "Liberty Leading the People." As real-world challenges intertwine with artistic wonders, our Guardians traverse hidden passages beneath the museum, untangle cryptic clues, and fend off malevolent forces seeking to exploit the power residing within these valuable creations.

Guided by an ancient order of protectors known as "The Curators," our protagonists not only safeguard priceless treasures but also explore various art movements throughout history. From encountering medieval knights brought alive from stained glass windows to exploring surreal worlds inspired by Dali's imagination – each adventure unveils fascinating tales behind artistic genius while highlighting its impact on society.

With captivating storytelling and stunning visuals inspired by renowned artworks themselves, "Guardians of the Louvre" is an action-packed series that fuels imaginations while nurturing appreciation for art. Engaging audiences of all ages with its blend of mystery, history, and fantastical elements – this show promises an unforgettable ride across time immemorial. Get ready to join these brave defenders as they navigate both artistic masterpieces and their own personal journeys within the hallowed halls of one of humanity's greatest cultural institutions - The Louvre Museum.

Please show your support for the talented manga author of 'Guardians of the Louvre Manga' by purchasing a copy of this captivating work at gekimanga.com. Immerse yourself in the mesmerizing world they have created, where art and storytelling intertwine to deliver an unforgettable experience. Join us on this journey and let's celebrate the incredible talent behind this masterpiece!