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helloalycia · 1 year ago

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𝐈 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: Lucy Gray has always been there for you, the only person you care for as much as you do. So much, in fact, that when you discover Mayfair's plan to have her reaped in the Hunger Games, you know you have to stop it. Even if it means giving up your own life.

warning/s: the usual warnings that come with the Hunger Games.

author's note: okay so someone requested another lucy gray imagine where reader volunteers for her, so that’s what i did but kinda did it a little bit different as the usual volunteering storyline feels very been there done that lol. Hope you all like it anyway! there’s a second part too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

It had been a long a day, my feet hurting from being stood up for so long and my exhaustion from working a long shift worsening by the second. But as soon as the clock hit 5pm, all my energy returned and I was quick to leave my apron behind as I left. Working at a crockery stall in the markets wasn't a terrible job, and it paid decently, but some days dragged longer than others and I only wished for it to end.

Thankfully, tonight was also a night that the Covey performed at the Hob, so I made my way over there, specifically behind it where the musical group got ready before performances in an abandoned garage they claimed as theirs. I always met before their shows, wanting to wish them luck and also because Lucy Gray, my best friend, would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't stop by beforehand.

"There you are!" Maude Ivory, the youngest of the group, called me over once I stepped in the open door. "You took forever!"

"I'm like two minutes late, Maude Ivory," I defended myself, and a smile fell on my lips when I saw her pouting. "Sorry."

"Can you braid my hair like last time?" she asked politely, already turning around and readying herself for me.

"I sure can," I agreed, smiling at the others as they got ready before moving to braid Maude Ivory's hair.

It didn't take long, just a simple braid around the crown of her head, complementing the rest of her hair that was left out in a way that made her look like a princess. Adorable.

"Oh, I love it!" she gushed, immediately looking in the mirror to appreciate it, and I watched her with a smile. "Thank you, Y/N!"

"No problem," I said dismissively.

"Wow, you look beautiful, Maude Ivory," Lucy Gray appeared beside me, smiling down at the younger girl, and then she gave me a playful look. "Favouritism much?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "All you had to do was ask."

She immediately took a seat on the chair Maude Ivory was moments ago. When I didn't move, she glanced over her shoulder at me with a knowing nod. "Well, go on then."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly before moving to braid her hair next, squeezing her shoulder slightly in retaliation, and I knew she was smiling all the same. As I'd done many times before, I combed out Lucy Gray's curly hair with my fingers, unknotting it the best I could, before separating it into two parts and giving her two over-the-shoulder braids.

"You done?" she asked impatiently, definitely trying to annoy me.

I finished tying off the second braid before rounding the chair to take a look. Her brown eyes looked up at me adorably, and even though she did nothing special, my heart fluttered in my chest at the attention.

Okay, so maybe I liked her a little more than friends, but I couldn't help it. She was the only person I had in my life that meant something to me, the only one who truly cared. After becoming friends many years ago because we happened to play in the park together as kids, she was stuck with me, and I suppose my gratitude for having her in my life turned into adoration somewhere along the way.

The only real family I had was my father, but he had been bitter towards me since my mum died only a few years after I was born. He hated me without saying it, and I sought love in friendship with Lucy Gray. Though, it was so much more than that on my end. But she could never know, for I'd rather have her in my life like this than not at all. And I would never risk jeopardising that, ever.

"Don't move," I warned her, before leaving the garage for a moment to pick a flower I'd seen just outside.

When I returned, I was surprised to see her sat how I'd left her, though pouting. I carefully slid the flower at the top of her braid, near her ear, and stepped back to admire my work.

"You're done, Little Miss Impatient," I finally said with a stifled smile.

She gave me a disapproving look before moving to the mirror to check it out. Her facade faltered as a warm smile tugged at her lips and she admired the view.

"Okay, I'll let you off since this is pretty nice," she said jokingly.

"Wow, only nice? I thought it was much more than that," I played along.

Her smile widened as she approached me, before kissing me on the cheek and hugging me briefly. I was expecting neither, my brain short circuiting as quickly as she pulled away.

"It's beautiful, Y/N, thank you," she said truthfully, losing her humour. When I didn't know what to say, too busy trying not to think about her lips against my cheek, she said, "You're stayin', right?"

I blinked, dazed. "Huh?"

She began to chuckle, and then her question truly sank in and I cleared my throat, nodding.

"I– yes, I am," I said, giving her a small smile. "Where else would I be?"

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning to the others. "Right, guys, are we ready to blow everyone's socks off?!"

As always, I enjoyed my evening at the Hob, cheering the Covey on and staying for all their performances as promised. It was always so lovely in there, except for the occasional fight that would break out between the miners and Peacekeepers, but none of that happened tonight. I was tired by the end of it all, as were the others, but as we all walked out together, Lucy Gray tugged my hand back.

"Hm?" I said, yawning as I looked to her.

"Are you in a rush to get home?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No, why?" I asked curiously.

Excited, she said, "Come to the lake with me."

I quirked a brow. "Now?"

Expression softening, she nodded. "Yeah, it'll be nice. It's a clear night too."

Another yawn escaped my lips and I covered my mouth before shaking my head. "I dunno, I'm a little tired and it's getting late."

"C'mon," she insisted, before grabbing my hand and forcing me to follow her, but not before looking to the others and adding, "I'll see you guys later!"

"Don't make too much noise when you're back!" Barb Azure, the eldest of their group, warned her.

"I won't," Lucy Gray mumbled, and then we were off and I just about managed to wish everyone a goodnight behind me before we were too far from them.

"How aren't you tired?" I asked as I fell into step with her, accepting my defeat and knowing I couldn't really decline her offer anyway. "You've been onstage all night."

She shrugged. "I'm a little tired, but I wanted to spend more time with you. You've been workin' loads lately."

I sighed, feeling a little bad. "Sorry, it's the house. Payments are falling behind and my dad is getting on my back and–"

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," she stopped me. "I just miss you."

A small smile crept on my lips at her unwavering honesty – that was one thing I'd always envied about her. She could say how she was feeling without overthinking how it could be perceived, whereas I was the complete opposite.

"I'm right here," I assured her, and then she glanced at me with a smile that warmed my heart.

"How is he?" she asked. "He still standoffish with you?"

"Isn't he always?" I said, a little bitterly, before shaking my head. "Never mind him anyway. Doesn't matter."

Probably sensing my mood, she said, "You're right, it doesn't. You have me."

I was glad it was dark out, otherwise she would've seen the pink dusting my cheeks.

We continued our walk to the lake, talking and trying to stay awake long enough to make it there. It was a long walk on a regular day, but tonight it felt even longer because of the constant stepping around and trying to find our way in the dim light of the moon peeking through the trees. Still, it was comforting to be around Lucy Gray instead of back home where my dad would no doubt be on my case, so I savoured the time together.

By the time we reached the lake – in particular, a spot where a cabin sat, with a dock and boat beside it – Lucy Gray and I were wide awake, any hint of exhaustion for the evening dispersing with our trek. We both took a seat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side, and she nudged my arm gently.

"Look how pretty the water looks," she said with amazement, and I hummed in agreement.

It was beautiful out tonight, the lull of the water lapping over itself and shimmering in the moonlight providing the perfect view for a perfect evening. Being out here always put me at ease, but being out here with Lucy Gray was indescribable.

After a moment of quiet, she nudged me again and I took the hint, following her lead as we both lay on our backs to look up at the night sky. If the view before was great, then this was amazing. Stars filled the sky, dazzling and bright and filling me with a sense of awe. It was different than seeing the stars from my house – this was all open, isolated, peaceful. I loved it.

"How many have times have you been here at night?" I asked Lucy Gray curiously.

"Not a lot," she assured, "but enough to know that it'a perfect for stargazin', and you love that, so I wanted to show you."

I chuckled a little. "I do. Thanks."

Another quiet enveloped us, only the sound of the water, the trees rustling gently and some birds in the distance to be heard. I could have stayed like this forever. It certainly would have been an upgrade from my usual life.

"Did you see Billy Taupe earlier?" Lucy Gray asked suddenly.

Billy Taupe was her ex-boyfriend and an ex-member of the Covey, but we'd all be ignoring him for a few weeks now after we'd discovered he'd cheated on Lucy Gray with the mayor's daughter. As a result, him and said daughter, Mayfair Lipp, weren't fond of us, especially Mayfair, who seemed to hold a personal vendetta against Lucy Gray.

I nodded, glancing at her, but she was still looking at the sky. "Yeah. I avoided him, but him and Mayfair were glaring at me for sure."

She exhaled quietly, troubled.

"Did he say something?" I asked, attention fully on her now.

"He confronted me between one of my performances," she admitted, piquing both my interest and concern. "Started talkin' about how I needed to stop badmouthin' him to the rest of the Covey."

I furrowed my brows. "You haven't though. If anything, you barely mention him."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think that," she said with an eye roll.

I frowned, hating to see her upset at the likes of him yet again. "If he keeps bothering you, tell me. I'll have a word with him."

As if I'd said something hilarious, she began to smile and then laughter spilled from her lips. "You're cute, and I appreciate it, but you shouldn't get involved. Him and Mayfair are capable of a lot."

"Lucy Gray–" I started, ready to retort, but she cut me off with a serious stare, her smile fading.

"Promise me, Y/N," she said sternly, dark eyes boring into mine.

I gave in instantly, embarrassingly enough. "I promise."

Visibly relieved, she relaxed and nodded slightly before sitting up and stretching her arms. I watched for a moment, though thoughts of Billy Taupe and his foulness stuck in my mind. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Same with Mayfair? Didn't they have anything better to do?

"Say, you ever been for an evenin' swim under the stars?"

I blinked, barely paying attention. "What?"

She glanced down at me with a smirk, before standing up and beginning to step out of her dress. Realising what she was doing, I sat up and started to protest.

"Lucy Gray, it's gonna be cold and dark and–"

But she beat me to it, her dress pooling by my feet as she dove in from the edge of the dock. I wiped my face with mild annoyance as she splashed me, watching as she resurfaced with a laugh.

"C'mon, you gon' leave me hangin'?!" she exclaimed.

I narrowed my eyes at her with distaste, but as always, I couldn't say no to her. So, grumbling to myself petulantly, I stepped out of my own clothes and dove right into the water next to her. It was cold, as suspected, but as I resurfaced, my body was already getting used to the temperature. It was still the middle of summer, so it was actually quite refreshing in the evening heat, though my complaints of it being dark were still valid.

"Not bad, right?" Lucy Gray asked me with a grin.

I pushed my hair from my eyes and gave her a reluctant glance. "I suppose not."

Her grin only widened, and then she looked up, eyes reflecting the moonlight and shimmering like the water. "Look."

I looked up too, amazed by the sight of the sky yet again, but before I could say anything, Lucy Gray splashed my face with water, making me shriek with surprise.

"Lucy Gray!" I scolded, wiping my eyes as she laughed. "You did that on purpose!"

Her laughter only increased, and then I was attempting to splash her back, but she was swimming backwards and then I was swimming after her, her laughter filling the silence of the woods and brightening up the place more than the moon ever could. I eventually grabbed her and splashed her face enough for her to spit it out and cease her laughter.

"Okay, okay, you win!" she gave in, wiping her eyes before playfully glaring at me.

It was my turn to laugh and she rolled her eyes lightheartedly before swimming around me yet again.

We stayed there for a little longer, splashing about and talking about everything and nothing. It was easy to forget everything waiting for me back home, or my job that I didn't want to go to, or the reality of our lives. No, all I had to focus on right now was Lucy Gray's voice, her company, her.

But it was seriously getting late, no doubt past midnight now, and all good things couldn't last forever. We were floating on our backs, staring at the sky in a comfortable silence, and I hated that I had to interrupt it.

"We should go back," I said reluctantly, stopping floating. "If my dad realises–"

"Right, yeah," she agreed apologetically. "Come on."

We both climbed out the lake in a peaceful silence, tugging on our clothes and shoes and squeezing the water from our hair the best we could. As I was doing just that, I felt her eyes on me and looked up with a confused smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling the last of the water drip down my wrists as I let go of my hair.

She began to smile unabashedly. "I'm glad I have you. Thanks for coming tonight. For being here."

My face was heating up, but I played it off with a playful eye roll. "Weirdo."

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, before leading the way back to the Seam.

It had been a long day at work and the last thing I wanted was to come home to my father being grumpy, and yet that was what I'd gotten a few days later.

As soon as I walked in, I saw him home too, looking around the kitchen with a clenched jaw. He must have just got back from the mines, judging from the coal dust covering his clothes and skin.

"Hey, dad," I greeted politely, though already feeling tense because he didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"The hell is all this?" he asked me, ignoring my greeting and instead motioning to the dishes on the table.

"What do you mean?" I asked with confusion, leaving my bag by the door.

"It's a mess in here," he said with irritation. "Did you not clean up?"

"Dad, I've been at work all day," I reminded him, sensing he'd had a bad day at work, because he wasn't usually this hostile. "When would I have cleaned up?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if I'd said something absurd. "Excuse me?"

I swallowed hard, not liking the way he sneered at me. "I–," I started, but stopped because I didn't know what to say. Technically, they were his dishes. His mess.

"Y'know, I work really hard to keep us alive," he said with a glare. "And the least you could do is keep the place tidy. You do fuck all anyway!"

I clenched my jaw, frowning and trying my best to contain my annoyance. "I know you do. But these were your dishes. From breakfast. I didn't even eat, I just left."

"Oh, so it's my fault?! That what you're saying?!"

"You're not listening!" I couldn't help but shout, getting sick and tired of his behaviour. "Look, you might have had a bad day at work, but you can't just take it out on me!"

"You don't know what I get up to at work!" he shouted right back. "It's not like yours, standing there, looking pretty! It's hard labour! Something you could never understand!" Then he motioned around and added, "Clearly! This place is a tip!"

I clenched my fists behind my back, but my anger was building up. "It's a tip because of you, dad! You leave it a mess! Then you come back and you blame it on me!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he yelled. "Have some respect!"

"Then actually try and listen to what I'm–!"

I couldn't even finish because he suddenly slapped me across the face, a sharp, blinding slap that knocked me off my feet for a second, leaving me stumbling into the kitchen table. I blinked, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Clean this place up," he snapped, before turning around to go to his room, slamming the door behind him.

I breathed out slowly, eyes burning now, and tried to ignore the pins and needles on my cheek. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me, and I should have been used to it, but it still took me by surprise sometimes. I hated it. I hated him. I would have done anything to leave, but I had nowhere to go.

Needing to get out of there as I calmed down, I left through the front door, waiting by the side of the house. I took in some fresh air and wiped furiously at my tears. He was the worst father a child could ask for, but he was the only one I had.

My face was hot and I was glad I couldn't see my reflection, knowing it would just be red on one side. As I finished wiping the last of my tears, I heard footsteps from behind me and sucked up a breath before turning around, worried it might be my father, back for round two. Thankfully it wasn't, but it was Lucy Gray.

She was smiling at first, then her eyes took in my expression and it faded instantly.

"What happened?" she asked straight away, stopping before me.

"Nothing," I assured her, though my cheek was still flaming, and she wasn't stupid.

She looked back at my house, and then back to me with a frown. "He was upset again, wasn't he?"

I looked to my shoes shamefully, not needing to answer. She knew what he was like, but it was something I hated to put on her. Nonetheless, she understood, and she touched my cheek gently, making me wince.

"You should stay with us," she muttered, trying to find my eyes, but I wouldn't look up. "We'll always have room for you, Y/N."

"I can't," I said with embarrassment. "And he's not always like this. It's– I'm handling it."

"No, you're not," she said, letting go of my cheek.

I didn't want to argue, nor did I want her pity, so I cleared my throat and looked up with the intention to change the subject. "What did you come here for anyway?"

She wasn't happy as she gave me a worried look. "Y/N–"

"Lucy Gray," I pleaded, before she could say anything more.

Giving in, she exhaled quietly. "I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a picnic with us tomorrow. You're not workin', right?"

At the sound of something much nicer, I relaxed and nodded. "I'd like that."

She seemed to relax too. "Good." Then she glanced over her shoulder at the house again, before adding, "You're stayin' with us tonight."

"I'm not–"

"You are," she insisted stubbornly. "You still have a few things left from last time."

I sighed tiredly. "I have to clean up. He's gonna be mad."

"We'll clean up together, then you're comin'," she reasoned.

"I'll do it myself," I told her, shaking my head. "You know he doesn't like me hanging around with you."

She looked ready to protest, but I shot her a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was to set him off again, especially in front of Lucy Gray. Thankfully, she seemed to get this and nodded reluctantly.

"Fine, but hurry up," she gave in, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I don't like you in there alone."

"I'll be quick," I promised, before leaving her to clean up.

My dad was still sulking in his room, so I was able to clean up quickly and let him know where I was going. He didn't answer, nor did he stop me, so I left and met Lucy Gray back outside. She took my hand without question, not letting go until we reached her place. I was glad not to be alone tonight.

A week later, it was another fun evening at the Hob where I watched my best friend perform and I didn't have to worry about work or my dad or anything. It was just like any other evening there, nothing out of the ordinary, or so I thought.

During one of Maude Ivory's talented solos, I got up to the go to the toilet, making it a quick one so I wouldn't miss a thing. But as I left the women's toilets, I caught sight of Billy Taupe and Mayfair chatting around the corner in hushed voices. I didn't care at first, trying to ignore they existed for Lucy Gray's sake, but then they mentioned the singer herself and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a little.

"...doesn't know when to keep her trap shut and herself to herself," Mayfair was saying bitterly.

"She's a singer," Billy Taupe reminded her. "That's what she does. Just ignore it."

Mayfair scoffed. "She thinks she has everyone in this town wrapped around her finger because, what, she can sing? And put on a little show? Well, you know what, we'll see how she sings her way out of the reaping!"

I froze from behind the wall, wondering what she meant by that.

"What?" Billy Taupe asked, just as confused but suspicious as I.

"She may have the looks, honey, but I have the connections," Mayfair continued, her hushed voice growing increasingly more annoyed as she spoke. "You just wait until reaping day. Lucy Gray won't be bothering anyone for much longer."

My eyes widened at her threat. What the hell was she talking about?

"What are you–" Billy Taupe started, but the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath my weight made him stop, and I cursed inwardly.

Before they could even consider investigating, I slipped away between the doors unnoticed, back into the main room where everybody was distracted by the singing, dancing and drinking. My head was reeling though, trying to piece together what I'd just heard.

There was no way Mayfair would do what she was implying, right? She wouldn't just sabotage the reaping because of a feud, surely? Would she? If she did, then that would mean Lucy Gray would be chosen as tribute and–

Oh, God. If she was chosen, she'd be shipped off to partake in the Hunger Games and that was it. She wasn't a fighter, she was a performer. And the Games was no place for someone like her. I'd never see her again. And her family– oh, no. No, this couldn't happen!

What could I do to stop this? Mayfair would never listen to reason, especially not from me. It wasn't fair, any of it.

Suddenly, I felt nauseous at the thought of everything playing out just as Mayfair wanted. Needing some fresh air, feeling overly stuffy in the Hob, I pushed past everyone and stepped outside, ignoring those who were enjoying a cigarette or drink and trying not to throw up.

I couldn't lose Lucy Gray like this, not because of some stupid feud. How badly could Mayfair hate her to do this? The Covey would be broken without her. She was too valuable to everyone. And she was all I had.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, seeing Lucy Gray approaching me with a concerned smile on her lips.

"What happened?" she asked, stopping before me.

I blinked, my thoughts still racing around. "What?"

"You left lookin' upset," she said worriedly. "What happened?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "Nothing. I just feel sick. Might've eaten something funny."

Her smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Oh, gosh, do you wanna go home? Go to ours? I can walk you back. The others won't mind if I leave a little early."

She was watching me carefully, patiently, dark eyes flittering around my face as if she'd find the problem just like that. She was too kind for her own good and I couldn't help but think about how unfair this all was. She wasn't a bad person at all. How could Mayfair do this? Why couldn't I do anything about it? There had to be something!

"Y/N?" Lucy Gray said, before pressing the back of her hand to my forehead with concentration. "Hmm, you do feel a little warm."

It wasn't fair.

Without thinking, I hugged her tightly, promising myself there and then that I would fix this. She wasn't going to be subjected to Mayfair's wrath, not if I could help it.

"Woah, what's gotten into you?" she said with surprise, but returned the hug.

"Sorry," I mumbled, before pulling back and clearing my throat. "I just need some water. I'll be fine."

She quirked a brow. "You're sure?"

I nodded, trying my hardest not to worry her anymore.

"Okay... good," she said with relief, before a smile curled on her lips. "I've got a new song I want you to hear."

I returned her smile, letting her tug my hand and lead me back inside, but the truth of what I knew was already starting to suffocate me.

For days I mulled it over, trying to convince myself that maybe I misheard or misinterpreted Mayfair's words. Or that, maybe, Mayfair didn't have as much power as she was letting on.

But deep down, I knew it was true, and she was just petty enough to send Lucy Gray to her death. Which then brought me to my next problem: what could I do to stop it?

Mayfair was the mayor's daughter and the mayor was the one who chose the names for the reaping. It was pretty solid, with no interference from me able to stop it. But what was I to do? Do I tell Lucy Gray? Her family? At least, if I did, it would give them time to prepare. But how exactly? Would it not be easier to just let it play out as to not ruin their last moments together?

I didn't know, and it was so much information to carry, eating away at me little by little. What I did know was that I couldn't lose Lucy Gray. What would my life even look like if she was gone? What would the Covey do without her?

Lucy Gray was loved, needed, wanted. She couldn't die, not when she'd be so dearly missed and had so much left to give. If only I could take her place... I knew I would if I could. Nobody needed me or cared for me, nobody but her. But she'd get over my death. And my dad couldn't care less. If it meant saving Lucy Gray, I would do it. After all, I loved her.

But I couldn't, because it was her name to be picked, not mine. And with her name, she'd walk onstage and I'd never see her again. How could I change that?

#lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray baird imagine #rachel zegler #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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acrossthewavesoftime · 15 days ago

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A curse that comes with Knowing History, and harbouring a particular interest in material culture, is that you can never watch a documentary, film, or series without paying attention to the tiniest details, which will inevitably ruin your viewing impression.

Watching a documentary about Louis XIV for Reasons, one of the scenes recreated by actors is the last illness of the Grand Dauphin, seen here drinking a fortifying bouillon from what would not be the type of bowl used in these circumstances in the early 18th century. That would likely have been an écuelle (a specific soup bowl that often featured a lid which could be converted into a plate), not this thing:

Thankfully, Monsieur le Dauphin here tilts his bowl of bouillon enough to allow a peek underrneath:

That is no 18th century porcelain mark. That is a modern Seltmann-Weiden mark, likely second half of the 20th century, possibly pre- German Reunification:

I put a couple of filters over the image to make the mark slightly more visible. Image of the reference Seltmann-Weiden mark found here.

For all ye who want the really very absolutely authentic soup bowls in use at Château de Meudon in the time of the Grand Dauphin, you will have to look for second-hand or new old stock options because Seltmann-Weiden has discontinued the Theresia/Heimatland series some time ago, but they are definitively still around, presumably because the Grand Dauphin's household, having been dissolved after his death, has flooded the second hand market with Seltmann-Weiden crockery:

I will leave whoever was in charge of the props that though: the Grand Dauphin was married to Maria Anna Victoria of Bavaria, and Seltmann-Weiden is a Bavarian firm, so if this was an intentional decision, I have to say it is a nice touch. Blue and white porcelain was much en vogue then, but this here pattern reminds me a tad too much of Meissen's iconic Zwiebelmuster, which was only created in 1730, 19 years after the Grand Dauphin's death. I get that it is not economically feasible to procure authentic surviving 18th century porcelain for filming a few scenes for a documentary. But still. This choice of soup bowl is not as historically informed as it could have been.

TL;DR: I beg you, never watch anything remotely historically-themed with me.

#history #history humour #17th century #18th century #louis xiv #material culture #porcelain

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coochiequeens · 2 years ago

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Another sex offender TIM released into the public.........and given a laptop

Daughter's fury as paedophile father who abused and shared images of her with other sick perverts online before changing gender in prison is quietly released (...and given a laptop by an offender's charity)

By ROSS SLATER

PUBLISHED: 10:47 EDT, 16 July 2023 | UPDATED: 10:49 EDT, 16 July 2023

A paedophile who changed gender while in prison for sexually abusing her own daughter as a child and sending explicit photos of her to perverts online has been quietly released back into the community - and given a laptop by a do-gooding charity.

Claire Fox, 61, who was previously known as Clive Bundy, a father of six, served just seven years of a 15-year jail sentence, before being settled into a tiny market town on the Welsh borders.

Fox, who wears a black wig and floral dresses told neighbours, who knew nothing of her sordid past, that she was an electrician from Bangor as they helped her get settled into her new surroundings and helped her furnish her flat.

Fox's release from prison has appalled her daughter Ceri-Lee Galvin, who bravely waived her right to anonymity, having been abused by her father for nine years from the age of eight.

Revealing her astonishment, Ceri-Lee, 24, told MailOnline: 'My father is not a woman and I refuse to recognise him as such. He changed his gender in prison to make his life there easier.

But now he is out and already up to his usual tricks – conning everyone he meets.

'The fact he is now dressed as a woman makes him more dangerous as young girls are his thing and he has never shown any remorse.

'My father is a highly manipulative man who has attended no sexual offender rehabilitation programmes, shown no remorse for what he has done and openly admits finding children attractive.

'There have been no meetings I'm aware of to tell local schools about his presence, he has no tag and no curfew. He has just been put into this community and given all he could wish for – food, furniture, a home and a laptop.'

Ceri-Lee, now a student paramedic, added: 'I am in no way transphobic and I feel incredibly sorry for people who genuinely need to transition. They face stigma and worse because of cases like this.

'But it should just not be an option for those convicted of sexual offences against children to suddenly say that they want to be a woman.

'This only arose at the end of 2021 when he was due to be moved to an open prison but then had a fight with a fellow prisoner that was serious enough to stop the move.

'That is when he went for the gender change – when he was almost 60, having been a macho man all his life and having had eight children and having never mentioned gender dysphoria before.

'Now he is being indulged by everyone. The prison service gave him make-up and women's clothes and now a charity for the armed forces have provided him with so much stuff when all he did was a short stint in the Territorial Army in his 20s.

He has conned them. He was never a soldier. The whole thing is outrageous.'

Fox arrived in a sheltered accommodation block for older people in a tiny town at the start of June.

She was given new furniture, a television, printer, washing machine, crockery and a laptop by the armed forces charity SSAFA because she had once been in the Territorial Army.

Fox's neighbour Lyn Robinson, 74, said: 'My first impression was that this person was very cheerful and amenable, assuring all us older people that they'd be no trouble. They seemed very confident despite the outlandish appearance.

'I thought she might find it difficult fitting in so I really took care of her. I gave her clothes and even lent her £70, which is a lot for a pensioner.

'I took her to the food bank at the Baptist Church where she was given loads of stuff including vouchers for a butcher in town and for a coffee shop.

'And we went to a concert at St Edward's Church where I introduced her to the vicar. I had no idea of her history.

Fox's decision to change gender before being released from prison, provoked a storm of protest when it was revealed in April.

She chose the same name as gender-critical campaigner and media pundit Claire Fox, now sitting in the House of Lords as Baroness Fox of Buckley.

Campaign groups fear that by changing their gender, sex offenders can effectively whitewash their past and could avoid detection under the Home Office's Disclosure and Barring Service, set up to protect children from abusers.

DBS uses official paperwork such as a passport or driving licence to carry out their checks, both of which can prove difficult to check after choosing a new name and gender.

The potential loophole is provided by the Gender Recognition Act (2004), which created a 'sensitive applications route' for trans people.

Ceri-Lee added: 'The victim liaison officer told me the only reason I was being informed about the name and gender change was because he had given permission for this to happen.

'It's allowing him to say that Clive Bundy never existed, that my abuse never existed and it is clearly a danger to children which is why I decided to speak out.'

Fox is not the first sex offender to change gender while in prison

A rapist who carried out sexual attacks as a man named Adam Graham in 2016 and 2019 sparked a heated debate earlier this year after changing gender and name to Isla Bryson while waiting to stand trial at the High Court in Glasgow.

And in 2018, convicted rapist 'Karen White' – branded a 'highly manipulative' predator by a judge – was moved to HMP New Hall in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, and sexually assaulted two women inmates.

Fox was arrested after police discovered images of Ceri-Lee online that the abuser had been trading with other pedophiles.

She was later charged with and admitted to several counts of sexual activity with Ceri-Lee, inciting a child to engage in sexual activity and distributing indecent images.

In 2016 she was sentenced to 15 years in prison. It was not until the end of 2021 that she told the authorities she wanted to change gender.

A SSAFA spokesperson, said: 'SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity provides practical, emotional and financial assistance to serving personnel, reservists, veterans and their families in their time of need. Due to data protection laws and our need to protect our beneficiaries' and employees' confidentiality, we cannot comment on individuals or their circumstances.'

A spokesperson for Dyfed-Powys Police said: 'In line with national guidelines we can neither confirm nor deny the information you have provided.

'However, we can confirm that Multi Agency Public Protection Arrangements are utilised throughout the entire force area to manage appropriate offenders living in the community and they will be closely supervised by local officers to minimise any risk.'

#Claire Fox is Clive Bundy #Child Abuse #Child Abuse material online #UK #Wales

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luckyraeve · 2 months ago

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Weird Book at the Grocery Store

I found a book behind the counter at the Grand Market on Neely Street.

Unfortunately, I can't pick it up or interact with it. 😢

Here it is rotated and zoomed in:

It's not very clear, but to me it looks like it says "Book of Crockery" or "Book of Crookery"??? 😕 But it also kinda looks like "Book of Grookey" (Pokémon), lol i dunno.

Why is this book here? Why does it stick out but we can't interact with it?! 😢

#silent hill 2 remake #james sunderland #SH2R #silent hill series #lucky plays SH2R #on my 2nd playthru #lucky noticing things and taking screenshots #i'm having fun finding things #i didn't notice before #but i'm also slowly losing my mind #videogame fangirling

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somerabbitholes · 5 months ago

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Hi C,

I am visiting Delhi soon. I so want your recommendations on some things please. Any bookstores(i know Fakir Chand), places to shop for jewellery or stationery shops. I would love to know anything particular you'd think is wonderful to check out in Delhi.

Thank you🌻

Hello! That's so exciting, is this your first time?

I'm going to leave the monuments-y stuff out, because I'm sure you've heard that enough and you'll figure that out just fine on your own. Outside of that, here's all I love doing (with map locations):

I don't actually care for Fakir Chand all that much, it's not the best store browsing-wise. I do love The Bookshop, Midland, May Day and Bahrisons (I've linked their oldest store, but they have multiple locations). You should also find stationery in Khan Market or Connaught Place -- I didn't have specific stores I went to, honestly. Please get your jewellery from the Janpath market

Also, a bunch of food places/cafes: Rude Chef for Northeast Indian/Southeast Asian food, Devan's for coffee, the restaurant at New Sikkim House, The Piano Man Jazz Club, Ama, Triveni, Cafe Lota.

If you have the time and if you like ceramics, you should go to the Hauz Rani market in Malviya Nagar which sells ceramic crockery and stuff, and it's fairly cheap. And Dilli Haat for general handicrafts stuff.

While you're there, you can also check what plays are running at all the theatres at Mandi House! They'd all be on Bookmyshow, or on the theatre's social media.

Have the nicest time!

#anonymous #answered #delhi

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velarisbynight · 6 months ago

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Silvery Pink And Powdery Blue

Gwyn x Elain

Day 1 for @acotar-omegaverse-week — Nesting: Surely there's a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they're feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows... right?

a/n: have I ever mentioned how much I adore Gwynlain?

word count: 1.7k~

~~~~~~~~

“This would be perfect, don’t you think?”

Pink, rosey lips curve in a smile, the cocoa-eyed female presenting a rectangular teapot clutched delicately between her hands. It seems to be fashioned after a house, with creamy-pale bricking, and lush green vines clambering up the sides; clusters of four, small, powdery blue squares are set into the ceramic work to act in the stead of glass panes; a single, rouge door is in the centre of each of the longest sides, matching the hue of some of the flowers that have been lovingly painted on.

“Are you thinking of it as a gift?” Gwyn asks, eyeing the teapot, remembering the two others she’s bundled to the back of a shelf: one pale with fat dots of colour spotted across its glazed, round body; another painted in a shimmering, rose pink.

Straw-coloured brows draw together atop pale skin. “No, I was thinking of it for us. Wouldn’t it go perfectly beside the vase? The one we found in that mountain-top marketplace in Dawn.”

Gwyn smiles. “But what would we do with our other three? We hardly have need of one teapot between the two of us, let alone four.” Elain’s brow pinches further, pink lips pressing together. Cocoa eyes dip briefly away, before fixating on Gwyn’s teal set. “Don’t you think it would look nice, though?”

Gwyn takes a moment to pause. Look at her wife properly. Then she elevates her chin by a singular degree, carefully softening her own expression, a thought passing tentatively through the back of her mind. “I think the teapot’s lovely, but let’s look around some more. Then we can see what else there is on offer and think on this one.” Elain sighs, setting back the teapot where she found it. “I suppose that would be the more sensible option.” Then she glances back to her wife, “don’t let me forget it?” Gwyn smiles, teal eyes dazzling as they twinkle with affection. “I’ll remind you.”

————

Throughout the pleasantly heated morning, Gwyn observes as her wife flitters about the market place, eyeing up patchwork quilts with gaudy red stitching then fluttering over to a different blanket, one comprised of the recycled fabrics of various coloured shirts; Elain peeks at pillow covers, ones with burnished gold tassels, others with rabbits in strawberry patches embroidered to the front, briefly assessing a floral case with bumblebees stitched along the hemming. The cocoa-eyed female browses silverware engraved with tessellating patterns that look like honeycomb, crockery with dashes and dots of warmly-coloured ink strokes painting the pale ceramic, more teapots and more sugar cups, tiny golden utensils fit for spooning crystallised honey or slicing squares of softened butter.

Gradually, the belief in the thought strengthens, and Gwyn begins compiling a mental checklist of foods they’ll likely need to get in—ones that require minimum effort to put together. Perhaps some cordials, too.

“Gwyn!” Elain calls, drawing her attention. Her wife has now moved onto clothes, and is holding aloft two silk pyjama shirts, one pale pink, the other powdery blue. Gwyn can’t help the affectionate curve of her tips as she paces over to stand at her wife’s side. “What do you think?” Elain contemplates, “I know we have a few sets, but will you feel these?” Gwyn smiles, taking the fabric between her fingers, feeling the cool slip of silk beneath her skin. She can’t deny how her heart beat quickens whenever Elain suggests something like this of her own volition, in this case it being mismatching sleepwear. They seem fairly light, too, and breathable, though that’s likely why Elain picked them out in the first place. She excels at seeking out perfect clothing on a good day, but now, with…something happening…

But they’ll tackle that when they get home. For now, it’s a pleasant day at the market.

————

When evening falls and food is prepared, the two take up position on the sofa, a plate balanced on either end with forks in one hand and books in the other. It doesn’t take long once Elain has finished her meal however, to sidle closer to her wife, curling her body into the dips and divots available, seemingly only half interested in the book she’d selected for the night.

Gwyn smiles, glancing down at her omega, nosing lightly at the crown of her head. Elain releases a sound of contentment, pressing closer still, almost preening at the attention. Gwyn’s eyes twinkle knowingly, discarding her own book to pull her wife closer. “Tired, yet?” Gwyn murmurs, dropping a kiss to Elain’s forehead when she pulls back. “A little… I don’t want to go to bed yet, though.”

“What do you want to do?”

Elain’s eyes twinkle, and Gwyn’s blood heats at that look. But then Elain’s simply tucking herself closer, practically in her wife’s lap now, pushing her face to the crook between Gwyn’s shoulder and neck, huffing faint, ticklish breaths against the creamy skin. “You smell so good…” Elain murmurs, sounding how she gets around the afternoon, drowsing in their garden atop a picnic blanket, laying beneath dappled shade with a chilled glass of cordial at her side.

Garden-roughened palms push at Gwyn’s neckline, urging the fabric out of the way so as to unveil more skin, to taste and scent. Sure enough, Elain breathes in the familiar fragrance of her wife’s skin, able to differentiate between the shea butter and vanilla essence shower oils they have contained to a little metal rack in their washroom, and the distinctive crisp freshness of the outdoors that has returned to Gwyn’s skin after two years of shying from it.

Clipped-down nails loosen the strings to Gwyn’s dress, pulling them free lace by lace until Elain can push the fabric down from full, rounded shoulders, revealing the swell of muscle on her upper arms, the freckles that speckle her skin from days spent training in the early morning heat of summer. Elain trails the pads of her fingers along her wife’s collar bone, her pink lips skimming just behind, nosing along the elegant length of her throat. Elain’s tongue follows soon after, thighs shifting so her knees are either side of Gwyn’s hips, hands sweeping bright-coloured hair out of the way to make room for her mouth.

“Elain…” Gwyn murmurs, allowing her palms to open along the curve of the omega’s spine, fingers dancing a skipping march until they reach lower, one hand laying appreciatively atop the swell of her hind while the other travels midway up her back, stroking in circles. Elain’s scent has sweetened since this morning in the marketplace, her body feeling much more tender beneath Gwyn’s reverent palms.

Elain kisses her way up the length of Gwyn’s throat, pausing beneath her arched ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. Teal eyes gaze back at her when she pulls away. “Bed?” Elain murmurs, a drowsy smile on her soft, pink lips. Gwyn nods back, content to find what mischief Elain will unknowingly seek out once they reach their bedroom.

Sweet omega.

————

As Gwyn had predicted, Elain spends the better part of an hour shuffling pillows around on their bed, swapping out cushions from sofas, and borrowing blankets draped over the backs of armchairs.

Gwyn waits peacefully, bathed in that powdery blue silk, watching as silvery-pink flits around the bedroom. It’s certainly come earlier that either of them would have expected, but it’s no matter.

When Elain finally comes to a pause, anxiously glancing over the wrappings, Gwyn takes her chance, silently stepping up to wrap blue arms around a pink torso. “That looks perfect.” Gwyn murmurs, pushing a kiss to her mate’s somewhat flushed cheek. “Do you think so?” Blunt enamel tugs at the plushness of Elain’s lower lip, “it’s missing something…”

“Probably its occupants.”

Elain huffs, shimmying out of her wife’s hold before making her way over to the armoire, nosing through the clothes until she finds what she’s looking for: a thickly woollen scarf Gwyn’s certain she hasn’t worn since the chill of the early new year. Cocoa eyes brighten with their find, hurrying over to the bed to trail it between the two healthy stacks of pillows. Elain beams, stepping back. “Now it’s perfect.”

Gwyn smiles secretively to herself, wondering if Elain’s aware of what’s going on, or if this is all instinctual for her. It’s certainly happened in the past where it’s taken a few days of supposed ‘spring cleaning’ for it to dawn on either of them, though those short days were swiftly overtaken with locked doors and messy floors, clothes strewn across the lovely carpet.

Gwyn follows when Elain settles into her nest, the sheets and blankets pooling around her middle before she wriggles down into the comfort, pressing her face to the woollen scarf.

“It’s certainly cozy,” Gwyn comments as she tucks her omega closer, noticing a further shift in her scent. “You like it?” Elain murmurs, fatigue evident in the heavy droop of her eyelids.

“It’s perfect.” Gwyn presses a kiss to the soft crown of burnished gold ringlets. “The perfect nest.”

A beat passes between them, Elain’s tender body briefly stiffening, before she’s groaning loudly, tilting her chin upward to gaze into amused, twinkling teal eyes. “How long have you known?” Elain huffs, laying her palms flat to Gwyn’s stomach, pushing gently at the muscle beneath her fingertips. Gwyn’s lips stretch into a smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she dips down, their brows almost touching.

“Only since this morning,” Gwyn whispers, doing nothing to fight the grin on her features. “This morning, Gwyneth?” Cocoa eyes gaze up at her wife, pretty pink lips parted in indignant disbelief. Gwyn chuckles, squeezing her omega tighter, feeling the fluttering pulse beneath her calloused touch as she guides ringleted hair from Elain’s neck, sweeping it over a silken shoulder. “It was only a thought,” Gwyn reassures. “I wasn’t certain until you mentioned my scent. And spent upwards of an hour rearranging our bed—that looks wonderful.” Gwyn takes care to stress that last part, so as to not upset her mate.

Elain narrows her sleepy eyes, but eventually the mild scowl gives way to a resigned sigh. “It’s not supposed to be here for another fortnight,” Elain huffs, giving into the soft pull of her wife’s touch, pressing against Gwyn’s chest. “I guess it decided to come early this time,” Gwyn muses, stroking Elain’s hair.

Narrow, elegant lips curve, mischief twinkling in teal eyes as she breathes in the already sweetening scent of her omega. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

#gwynlain #gwynlain fic #elain x gwyn #gwyn x elain #acotaromegaverse2024 #gwynlain omegaverse #silvery pink and powdery blue

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