#brooklyn children's museum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

power-chords · 7 days

Text

A rough translation, which I had to tinker with somewhat, but nevertheless:

The last of this clan, my aunt Martha, who went to Assenheim to fetch bread on the day she left, also perished in Minsk with her husband Moritz Adler and their young son. The names of the whole family are engraved on the memorial wall in Frankfurt's Jewish Museum.

But not Martin. Like his father Max, a front-line fighter in the First World War, captain of the Friedberg soccer team (the Jewish team) in the 1920s, he was a short, stocky, brash “tough guy.” He beat me up often enough, just messing around, when he visited us in Griesheim, but I always enjoyed seeing him and visiting the family in Frankfurt just as much. We did this often, even though Aunt Ida was a real obsessive when it came to cleaning and tidying. She would have been a good Japanese housewife; she always liked to take off our shoes before we stepped onto her polished floors.

One day in 1938, when things were getting worse, there was an unpleasant incident outside her apartment. A group of Hitler Youth attacked Martin's brother Alfred at the front door and beat him up.

The shouting drew Martin, who was just 14 years old at the time, to the window. He grabbed a kitchen knife, jumped out of the window, ran towards the mob and struck at them with his fist and knife. After the HJ punks had run off with a few stab wounds, all hell broke loose. His father just managed to get home to take Martin away before the police arrived. A friend took him by motorcycle to Nathan and Frieda in Kaiserslautern, and from there to a hiding place. I always thought it was my father who managed this, but he later denied it to me, so it was someone else after all.

Max had to go to the Gestapo for a tough interrogation, but apparently he was able to stick to his claim that the boy had simply run away; at least he was released after a while. The family, I think with the involvement of my father, managed to introduce Martin to an American Quaker whose group was organizing a ship transport for Jewish orphans to America. They provided him with forged papers — whose statements later became all too true, of course — and brought him by ship to the USA, where he arrived a few weeks before my father and was entrusted to a Jewish family in Brooklyn.

There he went to “high school,” joined the US Army at 18 in 1942, married Doris Kimmel from Brooklyn at 19, took part in the invasion in June 1944 in Patton's Third Army, Fourth Armored Division (as a Jeep messenger between shot-up tanks on the battlefield — not a pleasant job, as he assured me afterwards), took part in the liberation of Ders, passed through Frankfurt in the final battle in April 1945, and ended his army career as mayor of Pilsen, a post he held for a week thanks to his knowledge of German, before the Americans were withdrawn to the other side of the Elbe. Then the hard years began, until he found good work as a skilled carpenter in New Haven, Connecticut, and settled there, where he died in 1983. His two sons Barry and Michael are splendid fellows, one the head of special education in the state of Connecticut, the other a lawyer in New York; they in turn have four children; they are — unlike the three of us — still practicing Jews, and so this branch of the family continues to exist.

20 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 9 months

Note

i know u have been feeling stressed and hopefully this might make u feel better but for a request steve rogers x reader and theyre on their honeymoon

Hi there nonny!!!

Awww, I love that! Steve is the sweetest cinnamon roll so of course we have to write it!!!! This is so sweet, I have to!!! I hope you like it and it's accurate enough, it's my first time writing for him!

No warnings, just tooth rotting fluff!

Honeymooning with America's Ass, Steve Rogers, would include...

Poor boy has never flown before so you have to arrange the details. Once you are packed up and ready to go, he is fascinated by a modern airport. You have to hold his hand so he doesn't get lose because he likes looking in all the shops and different restaurants!

You finally get in and he gets nervous when the plane takes off so you laugh and hug him. You go "darling...you fought Red Skull, but a plane going up makes you scared?!" teasingly and kiss his cheek.

It's a long flight so you show him how to watch movies and play games on the little device thingies that are on airplens and he stays awake the whole time playing on it.

So then you guys...spend the honeymoon in ITALY!!!!

You go around to see such tall, ancient buildings. Far more ancient than Mr. Brooklyn has ever dreamt. At one point, the tour guide calls this building young since it was built in 1673 and he just stares dumbfounded!

But Steve would pick up Italian quickly. He likes calling you Italian terms of endearment like "mia/o carino/a" or "mia/o angelo/a" to make you smile.

Of course, he has to start the day by cuddling you! Though he is too excited to get up and can only take so much cuddling- like an excited puppy!

He remembers enjoying Italian places in Brooklyn when his mom and he would go to celebrate something. So he loves trying Italian cuisine. Telling you stories about his mother- and about how much she would have loved you.

He always holds your gelato like a gentleman <3 As tempted as he is, he never takes a bite of yours, he wants his new spouse to enjoy them.

However, at one point, a pickpocket creeps by you and grabs your wallet. You let out a shout and gasp as he breaks into a run.

Boy did that asshole make a mistake considering your supersoldier hubby.

Steve just fucking BOOKS IT. The pickpocket turns around and gasps. He tries to run, but Steve gets closer to him in a few steps and decks the guy until he falls easily, kicking him until he's flying like a soccer ball through the air. He then grabs your wallet throws the pickpocket to the cobbled ground and returns your wallet.

You go to all sorts of incredible art museums. Steve himself loves to doodle and when you take sitting breaks, he tries to make little copies of them. You put his hand gently over his and lean into his cheek as he does, holding his free hand.

Of course, since a lot of Italian people tend to have darker hair, they make huge eyes at his blonde locks. Some even try to flirt with him, but he quickly pushes them aside to give you a hug or flash them the new wedding band, assuring you with small kisses. There are smiles and looks of jealousy- the incredibly handsome blonde man is your husband and yours alone, as you are his.

He talks to and befriends everyone. Old ladies in cathedrals praying and kissing their crucifix necklaces. Children running around streets and jumping sunburnt into the sea. Fellow tourists in wide hats and billowy shirts. Chefs of mom-and-pop shops with rosy cheeks and loud, boisterous voices and stories in every dish.

It only makes you love him more.

100 notes · View notes

gay-jewish-bucky · 2 years

Text

I love that Steve and Bucky are both retired and happily married, and living on in the beautiful house they built together on a small bit of farmland with Alpine and a small heard of goats to keep them company.

A mezuzah is affixed on the frame of their front door, the same one that used to reside on the front door of the Barnes' residence in Brooklyn, and every Friday night the have a shabbat meal where Bucky bakes his Ma's challah. Some nights they have their friends or some of the Young Avengers over, other nights it's just the two of them, just being together in a way they never could have even dreamed of as younger men but always secretly and desperately wanted.

Their home is a living museum of their shared history and century-long love, two men thought to be out of time finally slotting in where they've always belonged.

Bucky spends his days taking care of his goats and tending their small vegetable garden, canning preserves as the weather turns. He also writes and knits, and consumes every single sci-fi book he missed that he can get his hands on.

Steve devotes his time to his art, or to woodworking, building things with his hands. He also contributes to social advocacy work-still fighting to make the world a better place-often times with LGBTQ+ rights groups, disability rights groups, as well as Jewish organizations that fight antisemitism.

They hope that in the future, once they both have done more healing, that they will be able to bring children into their loving family, raising them to be Jewish, while still embracing their interfaith identities and cultures.

There is no sweeter joy then slowly waking up together each morning, the sun warming their skin, and going to sleep wrapped in the other's arms each night. No threat on the horizon, no need to hide, just two men together and in love living in a world that queer people throughout thought all of time and space dreamed of one day seeing; a world that celebrates and affirms their love as the beautiful and sacred thing it is.

#marvel #mcu #stevebucky #stucky #jewish bucky #wintercap #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #nomad #captain america #steve rogers/bucky barnes #jewish bucky barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #Assorted Jewish Writings - Marriage/Family/Home

393 notes · View notes

fuckyeahmarxismleninism · 2 months

Text

By Melinda Butterfield

Trans and queer activists and allies mobilized to defend a family Trans Day of Visibility event in Brooklyn, New York, on March 30. The event at Marsha P. Johnson State Park included arts and crafts, informational tabling, and a drag story hour for children and parents. The annual event was targeted for a second year by far-right anti-trans protesters.

The community response was organized by NYC Queer and Trans Defense. This grassroots movement was created by activists in response to the growing number of fascist threats against queer events and venues, including drag story hour and Pride events at libraries, museums, and other public facilities in New York City.

#lgbtqia #TransDayOfVisibility #ProtectTransKids #TransRightsAreHumanRights #MarshaPJohnson #NYC #Brooklyn #antifascist #redguard #struggle la lucha

5 notes · View notes

dcbbw · 2 years

Note

Hii 😍

I saw this template and thought it’d be fun to learn more about your MC / OC 🥰 (no pressure)

Thanks for the ask, @peonierose! This fits in with a WIP I started about 18 months ago and abandoned. I took the questions from your template, added a couple more … and TA-DA!

As you know, I have various alliterations of Liam x Riley in several AUs/stories, so we’ll be hearing from my (and hopefully yours) favorites as they answer the questions.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any typos, missing/extraneous words, and /or grammatical errors. MS Editor gives me 100% error-free for this story.

Thank you to those who read this over and Thank you to all who will read it. Your feedback, commentary, likes, and reblogs are appreciated more than you will ever know.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Made for Me, Peter Cincotti

Word Count: 1,246

Relationship Status?

Riam:

Him: Married. With children.

Her: King and Queen of Cordonia.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: Dating, kinda sorta maybe.

Her: I don’t have a boyfriend.

Mermaids:

Him: Engaged, proposal under consideration.

Her: There are conditions.

UnRomance:

Him: I’m single but monogamous. For now.

Her: He’s my boyfriend.

Where did you meet?

Riam:

Him: Brooklyn, New York.

Her: In a dive bar. That should tell you something right there.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: Work! We started the same day.

Her (with a smile): I think he answered for both of us.

Mermaids:

Him: New York

Her: We saw each other in New York. We didn’t really meet until your ex dumped you.

Him: And I wrote on your walls …

Riley blushes as she looks around at everything but Liam

UnRomance:

Him: Museum exhibit

Riley nods in agreement

How long have you been together?

Riam:

Him: We are five years into an eternity together.

Her: Too long.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: 10 years!

Her: I .AM.SINGLE! We’ve known each other 10 years.

Mermaids:

Him: Four months? There was a three-month social season, and we’ve been engaged one month.

Her: We’ve been together ONE MONTH!

UnRomance:

Him: I believe in keeping score, not being confined to a timeline.

Her: 9 ½ weeks.

Who made the first move?

Riam:

Him: She did.

Her: Damn straight.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: I did. Ball’s in her court.

Her: I don’t play sports.

Mermaids:

Him: To be honest, I’d have to say my father and stepmother did.

Her: He ain’t lying.

UnRomance:

Him: I did. She … interests me.

Her (with surprised look at Liam): I do?

Any quirks?

Riam:

Him: She folds dirty laundry, talks with her hands, and bites her nails.

Her: He does this … thing whenever he’s reading where he drums his fingers on the back of the paper

SGL x Riley B:

Him: She’ll play a song on repeat for days at a time.

Her: He’ll talk straight through a movie or television show, and most times it isn’t even related to what we’re watching!

Mermaids:

Him: She hums herself to sleep.

Her: He bites his lip before he tells a lie but licks them when he’s telling the truth.

UnRomance:

Him: She plays with her hair when she’s nervous.

Her: He doesn’t yell when he’s angry; he whispers instead. And that’s scarier somehow.

What was your first date?

Riam:

Him: Tomato pasta dinner at House Beaumont.

Her (swatting his arm): CONEY ISLAND! It was our first time freely, openly, IN PUBLIC as a couple.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: As best friends, we have “date nights” but I do plan to take her out on an official first date soon.

Her: Where?

Him (smirking): It’s a surprise.

Her: OMG! Remember that night in Georgetown?

Him: Of course I do. Movies, drinks, dinner, trying to break into the Swedish Embassy.

Her: We were hella drunk.

Mermaids:

Him: I believe we were at a club, right?

Her (shaking her head): Where you texted Olivia all night? WE have not had a date, first or otherwise.

UnRomance:

Him: I’m an indoor guy.

Her: We rarely go out, but he did take me to a marvelous restaurant for my birthday.

Favorite food?

Riam:

Him: Baklava, Chicken Tagine, apples

Her: I’m allergic to peaches and cauliflower and can’t stand the taste of coconut.

Him: Love, the question is: What is your favorite food.

Her: I SAID WHAT I SAID!

SGL x Riley B:

Him: Bulgogi, ramen, and whatever she’s having.

Her: Everything.

Mermaids:

Him: I’m not picky.

Her: You teased me about my cheese eggs.

Him: You used an entire block of cheese for two eggs!

Her: I was nervous because you invaded my personal space! Besides, I like cheese.

UnRomance:

Him: I don’t have a favorite anything.

Her: Whatever he feeds me.

Favorite movie/TV show?

Riam:

Him: Grey’s Anatomy.

Her: What he said, with an extra side of McSteamy.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: NFL football, PBS

Her: Big Brother, PBS, Homeland

Mermaids:

Him: I don’t watch much television; I prefer music.

Her: Trashy reality shows.

UnRomance:

Him: Billions.

Her: I’ll watch whatever’s on.

Favorite color?

Riam:

Him: Blue. All shades of blue.

Her: Only because it’s my favorite color.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: Gray.

Her: Orange.

Mermaids:

Him: Cordonia blue, of course.

Her: Yellow. You don’t know this but in high school, I was teased whenever I wore it; I was called Big Bird and stopped wearing it for years.

UnRomance:

Him: For décor, I prefer basics: black and white. For clothing, I lean towards darker neutrals such as black, navy, grays.

Her: I love bright, bold colors like turquoise and magenta. And hats! Big, floppy ones.

Him (combing fingers through her hair while staring intently at her profile): Are you hinting at another shopping trip?

Her (softly): I would like that very much.

Him (fingertips walking up her thigh): You know what I like …

A trip you took together?

Riam:

Him: In our capacity as monarchs, we travel all over the world but are planning a family vacation with our sons.

Her: I’ve never been to Japan. Or South Korea. Or Dubai. Let’s look into that!

Him (confused): Which that?

SGL x Riley B:

Him: We take weekend trips to nearby cities: Baltimore, Philly, New York City.

Her: I’d love to go to Austin or Chicago. Maybe Vegas!

Liam pulls out his phone to look up flights

Mermaids:

Him: We have not yet traveled together

Her (sarcastically): He LOVES going to Lythikos. Alone.

UnRomance:

Him: We don’t go out.

Her: He likes to stay close to home.

What are arguments like between you?

Riam:

Him: She starts them. I end them.

Her (rolling her eyes): Miss me with that, Liam!

SGL x Riley B:

Him: Infrequent; we understand each other.

Her: Loud.

Mermaids:

Him (with raised eyebrow and sidelong glance): Passionate!

Her: I got nothing.

UnRomance:

Him: While I don’t actively seek them out, I do enjoy a challenge.

Her (with small shake of her head): I don’t like when we argue.

Favorite thing about the other?

Riam:

Him: Everything.

Her: How he loves me.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: I can’t pick just one thing. Riley B. is the total package.

Her (with lingering gaze at Liam): His patience.

Mermaids:

Him: She has the BEST personality when she isn’t angry with me.

Her: His sense of duty.

UnRomance:

Him: I see myself in her.

Her: He makes me feel things no one else ever had.

If you could change one thing about the other, what would it be?

Riam:

Him: Her jealousy.

Her: WHAT?? You can’t say everything about me is your favorite thing, and then want to CHANGE something! DO OVER!

SGL x Riley B:

Him: I wish she knew she can trust herself, she can trust me.

Her: I wouldn’t change a thing.

Mermaids:

Him: She’s given me a chance, so no … no changes.

Her: His ex.

UnRomance:

Him: Her obedience could use some improvement.

Her: I wish he communicated more … openly with me.

Any regrets?

Riam:

Him: I have a few; they are Riley-related but not about Riley.

Her: None. At all.

SGL x Riley B:

Him: That I didn’t make my move sooner.

Her: I want a boyfriend. Know anyone interested in the job?

Him: I bought you SOCKS!

Her: PLAIN WHITE ONES!

Mermaids:

Him: Even though she was right in my face, I wish I had seen her sooner.

Her: So far, no.

UnRomance:

Him: No.

Her: No.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising0308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @queenmiarys

#dcbbw answers #mc x li ask #choices fandom #liam rys x mc #writers on tumblr

36 notes · View notes

fizzycherrycola · 2 years

Note

Any headcanons about how many homes America and Canada have?

Yes! They have many homes.

⭐ America ⭐

In New York City, America spent decades jumping from place to place. As the city grew, he moved from a house in Manhattan, to a Brooklyn apartment, to a flat in Queens, etc. Now, despite his best efforts, his current apartment is just a box with an AC unit sticking out the window. He wishes he could have a nicer place in NYC, but the market is too hot even for him.

In Los Angeles, he managed to snag a gorgeous Santa Monica house in the early Hollywood days before prices exploded into the stratosphere. Just a short walk to the Pacific ocean, he never sold it and it’s worth its weight in gold by now.

His spot in Washington D.C. is the one he most uses; a stately, historical home that would probably be turned into a small museum if he ever decides to sell it (but he never will). Sometimes, the place can get a bit messy, with papers, file folders, and take-out containers scattered about, but he’ll tidy up when company is coming.

A farm in Ohio that has seen better days. In the early 20th century, he used the barn as a workshop to tinker with automobiles and flying machines. As a result, the barn is quite damaged, but America won’t repair it. He thinks the oil stains “add character”.

A lively hotel in Louisiana with a restaurant on the first floor. Yes, he owns the whole thing. It’s been managed by humans for generations within the same family. They cook massive Creole feasts whenever America drops by.

America doesn’t seek solitude often, but when he does, he goes to his mountain home in Colorado.

He stubbornly hangs onto his Texas ranch even though he doesn't raise cattle anymore.

Once he owned a beachfront property in Florida, but sold it after the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Unfortunately, through no fault of his own, his childhood home in Boston caught fire after the Revolution and burnt down. The land it was on is now a popular public park with swing sets, monkey bars, and a huge curly slide. Many local children say it’s their favourite park in the city.

There are many more, of course, but those are some of his standout homes.

🍁 Canada 🍁

Of all his homes, Canada stays at his Ottawa house most often. The backyard is filled with a rainbow of tulips and it’s within cycling distance to Parliament Hill. He keeps several pairs of ice skates for himself and whoever visits during the winter, so they can go skating over the frozen Rideau Canal.

Canada’s Toronto flat is the most modern-looking of his dwellings, but that isn’t saying much. It’s an industrial loft with mismatched furniture still stuck in the 1980s. It really isn’t his favourite place, but he likes the view of the skyline at sunset.

One of his childhood homes is still standing; a humble, stonework Montreal house. It’s been restored by historical societies; fresh paint on the door, a tidy lawn, and black soot swept away. He made an arrangement to lease it as a museum, but has the opportunity to return and stay there whenever he chooses.

There’s a ramshackle log cabin he built himself in Algonquin park, many years before it was designated as parkland. To quote my NedCan fic: “... a stone base decorated in moss. Turn-of-the-century windows and an amber-stained porch pleasantly frame the main door, while the modernized roof and chimney stack create a mishmash of different eras... like a favourite worn blanket; too beloved to be discarded, and so instead is repeatedly patched.”

On the east coast, he has a home in Halifax proper. Sadly, his original was destroyed in the Halifax Explosion and was rebuilt to the standards of the 1920s. He misses his older house, because it was where Scotland would visit during his childhood.

In St. John’s, he has a very colourful building, painted bright red with white window frames and small gardens in both the front and back.

A simple, suburban bungalow in Red Deer, Alberta. Perfect for business and relaxation, because it’s halfway between both Edmonton and Calgary and keeps the Rocky Mountains within reach. Piles of hiking gear are stored in the attic, basement, and the garage. When he can spare the time, he’ll drive out to the Rockies for weeks of camping, climbing, hiking, or skiing.

His British Columbia home is surrounded by old-growth trees.

Overall, Canada tries to have at least one home in each of his provinces and territories. If, at the time of travel, he doesn’t, he'll try to lodge in a wildlife research centre. The scientists, who usually work for the government, don’t mind his presence at all.

Thank you for the ask!! 💜

#aph america #aph canada #hws america #hws canada #hetalia headcanons #alfred f jones #matthew williams #my writing #my headcanons

95 notes · View notes

themultifandomgal · 2 years

Text

His Queen Pt20

We arrive at a building where a lot of people are running out of. Larry starts shouting Lancelot's name, but he runs off. We follow him until we end up on a roof top

"Hey. Give me the tablet!"

"Stay back. Stay back. Stand back" Lancelot is holding a flame towards us "Whoa" I then notice his nose

"What?" Lancelot looks at me

"Your errr your nose" I point to mine "What about my nose?"

"Your nose is dripping" Larry says for me "What?"

"It's melting. From the fire" Lancelot puts out the fire then takes out his sword

"Okay. How bad is it?"

"It is not great"

"But I'm Lancelot!" he yells irritated

"There never was a Lancelot. Lancelot is a legend. You're not real" Larry tries to explain

"I don't understand"

"I know it's a lot to take in, but please, just give us the tablet" I step forward

"Oh, and then what? back to the museum? stand there as little children ogle and point?"

"And learn. And get inspired to do great things. There are far less noble fates, my friend" Teddy now joins in

"Not for me, there aren't. If there is no Camelot... there is no Guinevere and no Lancelot... then I'm nothing. I'm just a sad lump of misshapen wax. Stop looking at my nose!"

"I wasn't looking at it"

"You were, I saw you. You were like this. "Hmm, hmm." Staring" Lancelot is really irritated at this point

"I wasn't like that"

"You were. Don't look at it!" they continue to argue

"Monkey, stop it" Dexter, who is on Ahk's shoulder, covers his eyes

"Could you give me the tablet, please? give me the tablet. If you give me the tablet, I promise I won't..."

"This isn't going anywhere" I sigh looking at my hands they are all wrinkly

"Do not look at my nose"

"Give me the tablet"

"Look away"

"Give me the tablet"

"How hard could it be not to look at my nose? "

"I'm not gonna look at your nose. I can't help it"

" Look to the heavens" we all look up to the stars

"No one shall look at, or mention, my nose from this moment forward!" Lancelot shouts "I'm sorry, I forgot what we were talking about" Attila starts to collapse, Ahk gets even older, Teddy and Sacagawea start to freeze and I begin coughing

"We've run out of time" Ahk says

"I love you Ahkmenrah"

"I love you too Amunet"

"Listen to me. You got to straighten the pieces. Straighten the pieces right now or they're all gonna die! you too!"

"A world without Camelot is not a world worth living in" Ahk and I collapse to the floor holding on to each other waiting for death to come, but instead we are hit with life.

I take a gasp of air, finally not feeling dust in my throat or mouth

"My love, are you ok?" Ahk helps me up

"Yes, you?"

"Never better" all of us hug each other with excitement. I walk over to Lancelot who looks sad

"Hey. Thank you"

"How do I look? You look like Lancelot" I smile at him as his nose is not squished, not looking as it once was but better than it dripping.

We all return back to the Egyptian exhibit

"Well done" Ahk's mother hugs us both

"Thank you... for bringing my son and daughter in law home safely. It's a strange thing... seeing your boy become a man and the girl you helped to raise become a woman"

"There were lions chasing us" Ahk tells his mother. I walk over to the crib where our child is. I lift her up carefully, still not understanding how any of this is possible

"You've served my family well. We shall build a great tomb and bury you with many riches. I, personally, will see to it that your organs are removed... and placed in separate jewel-encrusted jars"

"Thank you" Ahk's father walks over to me

"You would have made an excellent mother then and I know you will now" I smile at Merenkahre and we walk over to Shepseheret and Ahk. He takes the baby from my arms

"You need to name her" his mother says

"We always liked the name Femi" I look up at Ahk whose smiling

"Then Femi it shall be"

"Thank you for giving me back my family, Larry... Guardian of Brooklyn" Ahk says waking over to to Larry "for giving me the chance to be a father" they hug before Nicky interrupts

"Dad, if we leave right now, we can still catch a flight... get home with everyone still awake before the sun comes up"

"Yeah, okay. Let's go home" Lancelot walks in with the dinosaur from earlier

"It's alright Larry. We've reached something of an understanding"

"Really?"

"Trixey, sit"

"Wow! That's really good. Good job, Lance"

"Thanks. Trixey, behave. Good girl. Steady"

"Lance, come meet Femi" I walk over to Lancelot

"She's... so small"

"She'll grow" merenkahre says taking the tablet off Ahk and reciting an Egyptian pray to make sure it definitely happens.

3 Years Later

We have become a traveling exhibition to American all thanks to Tilly who we have really become close to. Femi is still very small as she only grows at night time. Ahk and I are so in love with her it's unreal. We have just woken up from our sleep at the Museum of Natural History in America

"Hey Dexter" Dexter jumps on my shoulder as music starts to play thanks to Ahk. Laaa lifts Tilly in the air, Trixey and Rex are playing. I walk over to Ahk smiling with Femi in my arms

"6 months of this" I say smiling

"6 months with our friends. Although I'll miss it when it's over"

"We will be back. McPhee and Tilly will make sure, but before that we are going to the Smithsonian" I turn to my husband

"I can't wait" Ahk leans down and pecks my lips. He looks back up to the crowd "now you best go and save Lancelot from Baketmut, mother and fathers dancing" I giggle watching the Egyptians dance

"Or we could join them" I take Ahk's hand and join everyone dancing.

The End

#ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah x reader #ahk #a night at the museum #larry daley

71 notes · View notes

brooklynmuseum · 2 years

Photo

“People started coming here taking pictures… the traffic would be held up from the railroad clear up to here,” Nellie Mae Rowe said while reflecting on her home, The Playhouse.

Rowe is pictured here in the front yard of The Playhouse, which she transformed inside and out into an ever-changing work of art. In her yard were pots and urns filled with plants, garland and clotheslines strung from tree branches and decorated with Christmas ornaments, children’ toys, plastic fruit, and other items. Even her dolls filled chairs placed throughout her yard until they were vandalized.

Although Rowe’s Playhouse was demolished shortly after her death due to gentrification and lack of advocacy for the site’s artistic value, photographs of her home inspired filmmakers to reimagine The Playhouse through miniature sets for their documentary, This World is Not My Own.

Visit these sets on display in #NellieMaeRoweBkM.

📷 Melinda Blauvelt (American, born 1949). Nellie Mae Rowe, Vinings, Georgia, 1971, printed 2021. Gelatin silver print, 21 3/4 × 14 5/8 in. (55.2 × 37.1 cm). High Museum of Art, gift of the artist, 2021.70. © 2022 Melinda Blauvelt. (Photo: Courtesy of the High Museum of Art) → Installation View, Really Free: The Radical Art of Nellie Mae Rowe, September 2, 2022–January 1, 2023. Brooklyn Museum. (Photo: Danny Perez)

#Brooklyn Museum #brooklyn #museum #art #exhibition #Nellie Mae Rowe #NellieMaeRoweBkM #film #artist #documentary

41 notes · View notes

feverinfeveroutfic · 8 months

Text

love is not enough | chapter seventeen

a/n: giddyup~

The New York City skyline emerged from below the airplane windows, and he was eager to step off there for the time being. Each time he visited New York, it felt as though he had come back home, especially with his parents having hailed from there for decades before he was born. He gazed out the window to the shimmering skyscrapers against the clear blue sky and the glimmering waters of the Hudson Bay, and all the streets down below which were the size of drinking straws.

“We should try and visit all the museums while we're here,” Q suggested as the seatbelt lights flickered on over their heads.

“All the museums?” he asked her with a slight chuckle. “There are so many of them!”

“How many are there?”

“Something like a hundred. All manner of art and history museums. There's a museum dedicated to coins, another one dedicated strictly to photography... the Bernard Museum for Jewish art. In fact, there's a shitload of Jewish museums all around the city. And Asian ones. And Latin American ones. The Air and Space Museum. The Brooklyn Botanic Garden. The Brooklyn Museum. One for Coney Island. A few dedicated to architecting.”

“Architecting?” Jay chuckled at that.

“There's a bunch of children's museums,” he continued. “Parts of the Smithsonian. One for Edgar Allan Poe. One for Ellis Island. Gracie Mansion. Greenwood Cemetery. The Guggenheim. The Metropolitan. MoMa. One for Louis Armstrong. Madame Tussauds. The Museum of Ice Cream. The Museum of Math. The Museum of Movies. The Museum of Jazz. The Museum of Sex...” He showed them a playful grin at that last tidbit, to which they both took a glimpse at one another.

“I think we've created a monster, Q,” Jay remarked.

“I think we have, too, Jay,” Q quipped with a flash of her eyebrows. “Not to mention, he sure did whip out his brain here with the sight of the city below us.”

“I feel like I should be in New York,” he confessed to them. “I don't know... my parents are from here. My grandparents were, too. I have cousins over here, as well as my aunts and uncles. Somehow, by some odd chance, my parents and I found ourselves out in California, even though my blood runs here in the Northeast.”

“Take you to New York and have our brains stimulated amongst other things,” Jay said with a smile to him.

“The brain is a sexual organ, you know,” he assured her as he buckled in. “Everything you pick up, you take into your brain as well. I figure we have plenty of time—let's take the subway... I believe it's over by Rose Hill, if I recall correctly.”

“How many times have you been here before?” Q asked him.

“Plenty. And plenty enough to remember what gets me off, too.” He flashed her a wink, and the plane began its descent to the tarmac, away from all the buildings.

The overly clean smell of the airport only followed them out to the street, where he led them to the nearest subway station up the block. It was a cool day in New York City, but they knew it would be some time before it rained a great deal there like it did in Kansas City.

“It's going to take us a while to get over to the Flatiron District from here, but... we can spare a while, though,” he assured them as Jay paid for their way onto the next train. They padded through the terminal, which smelled of cheap cleaner, stale alcohol, cigarette ashes, and fresh vomit, but neither of them were fazed by it. He put either arm around the two of them as they awaited the subway train under the bricks, still shiny and silvery despite being a decade or two in age. Jay adjusted her cap so the petals of her broach shimmered under the overhead lights; he showed the little flower a smile, and he knew there had to be a decent way to get these two girls out to Hawai'i.

They stood back as the train rolled up before them, but they were eager to board first.

“Museum of Sex, here we come,” he declared with a straight face. He stood over them while they hunkered down in the seat closest to the sliding doors. He glanced about their compartment, where only a few people took the seats around them. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and after a major storm system hit Tornado Alley: he knew they were going to have all the sex on display all to themselves. He glanced over at the taro broach on Jay's cap, and the shape of the flower made him think about that museum itself.

The flowers in bloom for the birds and the bees. The onset of spring to send late winter chills down his spine to the space between his legs. It was the mere mention of the museum that sent him into an unknown part of himself. Maybe it was being with those two girls, and maybe it was the thrill of it all, but he found himself with a slight itch he couldn't seem to scratch even if all he did was think about it.

It was only just shy of an hour before they reached the Flatiron District, and right down the block from the Museum of Sex itself. They emerged from the subway station, only to be met with some light traffic within a block or so from the heart of downtown.

“Fifth Avenue, ladies,” he announced to them over the traffic. “I can see it right up ahead.”

Indeed, right up the street, through four stoplights, they could see the sign itself as well as the pink and blue neon lettering above. The three of them walked side by side with their sunglasses on, and with his arms still around either of their backs to guide them along. By the time they reached the second crosswalk, and they caught the light green no less, he unfastened the first three buttons near the collar of his shirt.

“You need like body glitter or something on your chest, babe,” Jay suggested.

“Body glitter,” he echoed that with a chuckle. “Body glitter, it's like you want me to look like a pimp.”

“A pimp or straight outta Miami Vice,” Q added, and they reached the next crosswalk, where they were met with a familiar aroma.

“Popcorn?” Jay asked aloud.

“Popcorn with... sugar,” he added. “Like the smell you get from a candy store.”

Indeed, when they crossed the street, he peeked down the block, only to find a myriad of restaurants, cafes, shops, bistros, as well as the back end of Koreatown. The smell of popcorn combined with baked goods and Korean barbecue from the next block up was all too much to bear, especially since it came about all at once and especially for him. The three of them congregated at the final crosswalk when he finally set a hand on his stomach. He had barely eaten anything on the plane, and breakfast only stayed with him for so long before he started to feel it again.

“You okay?” Q asked him with a smile.

“Smell all of that food,” he proclaimed. “We've got popcorn and some bakeries and barbecue and—” He sniffed the air. “Some pizza, too.” He sniffed the air again, and that time he closed his eyes. “I think I smell kreplach, too. Phew, man—I haven't had kreplach since I graduated from high school. Good kreplach, further back than that.” He turned his attention to the Museum of Sex, which stood right across the intersection from them.

Two desires conflated all at one intersection. He had the hunger in his stomach as well as below his belt.

“Oh, man.” He lowered his voice down to where the traffic nearly drowned him out. “Oh, my god. This is more than the best of both worlds here. Just... the two worlds.”

“Tevye's a rat in paradise,” Jay cracked.

“God, it's too much,” he decreed. “It's all too much. I feel like if I live here, I'm going to get so fat.” He rested a hand on his slender belly, to which Jay and Q rested their hands on the back of his as if to feel his warmth. “I'm just going to want to eat everything in sight, especially the kreplach!”

“We're going to have to protect you, baby,” Q said right into his ear, and then she ran her tongue along the rim. The light turned green and they padded across the pavement to the next corner up. A little more waiting, and they crossed the street perpendicular to them until they reached the front doors of the museum itself.

Seventeen dollars each to get in, but Jay was happy to cover for them.

The front foyer of the museum smelled of cinnamon and sugar, but the smell was least of their interest as they were met with a ten foot high pearly white poster of three silvery gray elk climbing on top of each other for a threesome.

“That's us in another life,” Q declared in a single breath.

“Why another life when that could be us now?” Jay quipped, to which he chuckled at that.

The same image was translated over to a metal statue in the middle of the floor before them.

Sex toys on display. Statues of monkeys and primates in a powerful pose with their dicks fully erect. A whole section dedicated to kinks. A giant woman down on her knees with her ass pointed out towards them: it was there that he felt a wave of intense warmth wash over him.

A tight feeling emerged in his chest, such that he lingered back from the two of them. It didn't help matters that all the aromas out there on the street only made him hungry.

“You okay, babe?” Jay asked him as they stopped ahead of him. He peered behind him to the wooden park bench in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, god. I don't know if I can last in here.” He sank down onto the bench with his legs spread out before him. The warmth in his face was intoxicating, perhaps more so than the very advent of the museum itself. He peered over his shoulder to find a series of glass and rubber dildos under a sheet of plexiglas right by his head. He turned his head to the other direction to find the entrance to what was called the “Pink Room”, and he could only assume as to what that was if those two girls were anything to go by. Q took her seat next to him and rested a hand on his knee. Jay stood before them with her jacket zipped up all the way: the black leather hugged the curves of her body, and he knew that the whole section dedicated to lingerie was upon them as well.

“I'm hungry, and it's just...” He gazed up behind them, to the giant ass shrouded in black and white stripes. “Surrounded by sex and it's just... phew.” He closed his eyes and fanned himself with the side of his hand. “Doing something to me.”

“Arousing you?” Jay asked him with a slight shake to her body. She rested her hands on her hips to accentuate the hourglass shape of her body. He licked his lips, and he had no idea which hunger to satisfy first right then, especially when he glanced off to the left again to see the entrance to the section about kinks was up ahead as well. Surely there had to be a kink dedicated to eating.

“You have no idea,” he told her with a shake of his hair: he ran his hands down his exposed chest and his belly, and then down onto his thighs.

“Oh, yeah, this place is doing to something to him,” Q declared.

“Let's explore our kinks, shall we?” he suggested, and with a slight groan, he stood to his feet and shook his hips a bit for them. Q stood on his left while Jay took to his right, and he once again put his arms around the small of their backs to guide them along the fine carpet underneath them; and all the while, he kept his eye on that giant black and white striped ass off to the right.

#love is not enough #love is not enough fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #oc tag #alex skolnick #slight smut #museum of sex #chapter 17 #writing #also on ao3 #text

4 notes · View notes

bess3714 · 1 year

Text

Lewis Hine's Photography

Lewis Hine was a sociologist and photographer who documented laborers and the conditions they worked in across America in the early 1900's. He was a staff photographer for the National Child Labor Committee for a while, and he photographed child laborers in an effort to enact social and legal reforms to protect children.

Several of his photographs live rent free in my head, so I'm putting them here!

Newsies at Skeeters Branch, St. Louis, Missouri

This is probably the photo I think about the most. Newsboys were considered independent contractors, and so weren't subject to labor laws. Any papers they bought, they couldn't sell back, so if they didn't sell all their papers for the day, they had a loss. Hine took several pictures of newsboys.

Top: Roland, Eleven Year Old Negro Newsboy, Newark, N.J. Bottom: Self-Portrait with Newsboy.

Left: Breaker Boys in Coal Mine, South Pittston, Pennsylvania Right: Drivers and Mules, Gary, W. Va

Breaker boys, as the name implies, broke large chunks of coal into more uniform sizes and sorted out impurities. Breaker boys were mainly children, though elderly and injured miners would also sometimes be employed as breakers. Boys might start as a breaker boy, but as they got older, they would often move on to different, more physically demanding jobs in the mine.

Some pictures of tiny children working.

Boy from Loray Mill

Vera Hill, 5 Years Old, Cotton Picker, Comanche County, Oklahoma

Left: George Barbee, 13 years old topping, Nicholas County, Kentucky. Right: Jennie Camillo, 8 years, cranberry picker, Pemberton, New Jersey

Addie Card, 12 years. Spinner in North Pownal Cotton Mill

Left: 7-year old Rosie, oyster shucker, Bluffton, South Carolina

Right: Noon in East Side factory district, New York

Icarus Atop Empire State Building, 1931

Not all of Hine's pictures were of children. He took plenty of pictures of adults, too. This one is pretty spectacular, and very dramatically named.

Mt. Holyoke, Massachusetts - Paragon Rubber Co. and American Character Doll. Building rubber doll moulds.

I really like this one because of the row of doll legs. It's amusing to look at. That, and the worker has massive arms. Fabulous.

Power House Mechanic

Another worker with excellent arms. According to the Brooklyn Museum, "The clean muscularity and precise industrial order presented by Lewis Hine in Power House Mechanic demonstrates the photographer’s shift, in 1919, from a gritty documentary style to what he called “interpretive photography”—an approach intended to raise the stature of industrial workers, who were increasingly diminished by the massive machinery they operated."

Soldier Thrown in Air, 1917

This picture really captures the joy of the moment and I like that.

Colored School at Anthoston, Kentucky, 1916.

I love pictures of old schools. My favorite are when all the students and the teacher are lined up in front of the school. This one has the kids inside the school, which is just as good. Here is a little history about African-American schools in Henderson County, Kentucky, which is where Anthoston is located.

#lewis hine #photographer #photography #photos #child labor #history #bess babbles

13 notes · View notes

warningsine · 8 months

Text

I frequently ask myself how a historian in 50 or 100 years will interpret our period. When, he will ask, did people in Israel start to realize that the state that was established in the War of Independence, on the ruins of European Jewry and at the cost of the blood of combatants some of whom were Holocaust survivors, had devolved into a true monstrosity for its non-Jewish inhabitants. When did some Israelis understand that their cruelty and ability to bully others, Palestinians or Africans, began eroding the moral legitimacy of their existence as a sovereign entity?

The answer, that historian might say, was embedded in the actions of Knesset members such as Miki Zohar and Bezalel Smotrich and the bills proposed by Justice Minister Ayelet Shaked. The nation-state law, which looks like it was formulated by the worst of Europe’s ultra-nationalists, was only the beginning. Since the left did not protest against it in its Rothschild Boulevard demonstrations, it served as a first nail in the coffin of the old Israel, the one whose Declaration of Independence will remain as a museum showpiece. This archaeological relic will teach people what Israel could have become if its society hadn’t disintegrated from the moral devastation brought on by the occupation and apartheid in the territories.

The left is no longer capable of overcoming the toxic ultra-nationalism that has evolved here, the kind whose European strain almost wiped out a majority of the Jewish people. The interviews Haaretz’s Ravit Hecht held with Smotrich and Zohar (December 3, 2016 and October 28, 2017) should be widely disseminated on all media outlets in Israel and throughout the Jewish world. In both of them we see not just a growing Israeli fascism but racism akin to Nazism in its early stages.

Like every ideology, the Nazi race theory developed over the years. At first it only deprived Jews of their civil and human rights. It’s possible that without World War II the “Jewish problem” would have ended only with the “voluntary” expulsion of Jews from Reich lands. After all, most of Austria and Germany’s Jews made it out in time. It’s possible that this is the future facing Palestinians.

Indeed, Smotrich and Zohar don’t wish to physically harm Palestinians, on condition that they don’t rise against their Jewish masters. They only wish to deprive them of their basic human rights, such as self-rule in their own state and freedom from oppression, or equal rights in case the territories are officially annexed to Israel. For these two representatives of the Knesset majority, the Palestinians are doomed to remain under occupation forever. It’s likely that the Likud’s Central Committee also thinks this way. The reasoning is simple: The Arabs aren’t Jews, so they cannot demand ownership over any part of the land that was promised to the Jewish people.

According to the concepts of Smotrich, Zohar and Shaked, a Jew from Brooklyn who has never set foot in this country is the legitimate owner of this land, while a Palestinian whose family has lived here for generations is a stranger, living here only by the grace of the Jews. “A Palestinian,” Zohar tells Hecht, “has no right to national self-determination since he doesn’t own the land in this country. Out of decency I want him here as a resident, since he was born here and lives here – I won’t tell him to leave. I’m sorry to say this but they have one major disadvantage – they weren’t born as Jews.”

From this one may assume that even if they all converted, grew side-curls and studied Torah, it would not help. This is the situation with regard to Sudanese and Eritrean asylum seekers and their children, who are Israeli for all intents and purposes. This is how it was with the Nazis. Later comes apartheid, which could apply under certain circumstances to Arabs who are citizens of Israel. Most Israelis don’t seem worried.

-Zeev Sternhell, Holocaust survivor and self-defined "super-Zionist"

#Zeev Sternhell #israel #palestine

3 notes · View notes