Rain fell continuously around them. All was silent and empty in the street outside of Harry’s house and the only light came from the streetlight they stood under. Drops of water beaded and bounced off of Harry’s glasses and matted his hair to his forehead; Draco was out of breath and so cold, but Harry’s mouth was warm and just right. Harry balanced on his tiptoes to get a better angle and Draco had to bend his neck rather awkwardly to place his lips correctly. They would learn in time.
Classical music filled the crowded air in which they danced. Ladies in fine gowns twirled effortlessly about the room with help from their dates. Each man wore the most expensive dress robes Harry had ever seen and Draco looked the classiest out of everyone there. He stepped repeatedly on Draco’s feet, self-conscious of everyone staring at them. Why were they the center of attention, anyways? This was Ron and Hermione’s wedding, for God’s sake. Draco calmed his nerves by planting his lips on Harry’s forehead, a subtle reminder that like always, the prying eyes of the public didn’t matter. They swayed in the middle of the dance floor like that in a champagne haze, and Harry thought he even caught Draco smiling to himself later that evening.
Harry ran around the house, frantically picking up various articles of clothing from assorted pieces of furniture, desperate not to be late for his first day of work at the Ministry. Pecks were planted on Draco’s lips every time he passed by the chair he sat idly in with a cup of coffee. Harry could taste the sugar on his lips. God damn it, he knew he didn’t actually take his coffee black! He finally found socks to match his tie and babbled about how nervous he was to begin work as Draco fixed the wrinkles in his robes and pecked his lips six more times before fondly swatting him into the fireplace and handing him the Floo powder. Harry disappeared in a flash of green flames, and Draco haphazardly changed into a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, waltzing out the door to his job at the coffee shop down the street.
They were a mess of arms and legs. Clouds hung low in the sky outside their window, as did the promise of winter. Blankets were strewn about the room and a chunk of Harry’s fringe fell endearingly into his eyes as they smiled at each other from mere centimeters away. Draco’s hair smelled like apples and leftover hair gel. Harry’s face asked questions as Draco leaned in for a needlessly sloppy kiss, ignoring the morning breath and lingering vodka from the night before. This was all he needed.
“Marry me,” he commanded between feather-light kisses on cheeks, noses, and lips.
They were the center of attention again, but this time they didn’t mind. Words poured out of Draco’s mouth faster than Harry could listen to them, and tears found their way out of his eyes before he could think of pulling out his handkerchief. He vaguely remembered pulling out a crumpled sheet of parchment from his back pocket and reading something he wrote down on it the night before, but the only thing that stuck in his brain were the two words that came out of Draco’s mouth when he was finished:
The kiss that followed wasn’t spectacular. There were sparks, a subtle shower of fireworks, and it was all followed by polite applause. They both knew they were saving the real pyrotechnics display for later that night.
Lol sorry this sucks I was just in the mood for taking a break fro my massive load of homework and writing some gooey mushy shit. So yeah. Idk what this is but!!! Enjoy xx
I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.
Oh, please no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window.
I couldn’t do anything. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.
This visual poem, “Frog Mothers”, is a piece that belongs to a longer work, an epic in the classical sense, if you can use that term for asemic/abstract visual poetry. The title of the whole epic is Uui Maram gret Dway Haernowt or Uui Maram grof Dway Haernoth. I once knew what that means, but I’m not sure any more, I hope I wrote it down somewhere.
With summer upon us, we hark back to a time when the warmer months
allowed films to be shown outdoors at airdomes, and theatergoers were
familiar with the glass slides that were part of the show. In their
earlier days, glass slides, also known romantically as “lantern slides,”
were part of an entertainment device called the magic lantern. A
precursor to motion pictures, magic lanterns were popular both in the
home and in theaters in the 18th and 19th centuries. They projected the
images from hand-tinted glass slides onto a screen or wall through the
use of candles or lanterns, which grew in power as the decades
From the silent era to the 1930s, glass slides
found their way into motion picture theaters, where their uses included
advertising upcoming films, making announcements on behalf of the
theater management and providing lyrics for sing-alongs, among other
things. They measured approximately 3 inches by 4 inches, and were
sometimes meticulously hand-colored. Many glass slides were matted
together by paper and another piece of glass, which helped protect the
beautiful images from dust and scratches.
The Margaret Herrick Library’s Special Collections Department collection of glass slides contains more than 600 slides, including some related to World War I.