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THE REAL DR. JEAN MARIANI, QUANTUM PHYSICIST AND EINSTEIN COLLEAGUE

My name is Chantal Mariani, and I am Dr. Jean Mariani’s daughter. I would like to paint an accurate picture of the quantum physicist and colleague of Professor Albert Einstein. I am supplying accurate and first-hand information told to me by my father and family.

Directly below is an article published by The Herald News of NY interviewing my father.

Following this article is my rebuttal to a pseudo-scientific paper written by two individuals with the implicit intent of destroying his reputation, of which the motive is totally incomprehensible to me. “Jean Mariani”s Bumpy Road” is an inaccurate hatchet job, filled with opinionated untruths and false assumptions which must be set straight.

“EINSTEIN AIDE TEACHING NEW HIGHER MATH CONCEPT”

Frenchman, introducing space age, thinking for selected Fairleigh Dickinson, seniors

By Gordon B, Bishop Herald news, staff writer

The Herald news, Wednesday November 18, 1959

Just how is the United States preparing its college students for the race to the moon? What are 19 and 20 year old mathematics and physics students required to know? Do they need the future needs of the atomic and nuclear age?

In an era of nuclear bombs, missiles, satellites, and moon rockets, frequently, we think of men like Einstein, The von Brauns, and the like. Men who make power with math, so to say.

The race to the moon is a new challenge to the American public, which follows the newspaper headlines daily. The government foots the bill to billions of dollars for nuclear tests and large fees to top engineers and physicists. Will the end bring destruction, or peace?

What do these men think and no? How do they see them self in a society? Praying for peace? What do they think when they chalk the blackboards with complex equations and read the results in tomorrow's newspapers?

"Modern algebra”

Jean (John in America) Mariani, a professor at Fairleigh Dickinson, University, Rutherford, and a member of the Institute of Advanced Study of Princeton, worked and studied with the late Dr. Albert Einstein, of Princeton University. He was Einstein's assistant for one year.

The 53 year old Frenchman conducts a new "modern algebra" course for a few select students who have attained a straight, A average in calculus in their last college year. The course is a new concept of higher math. It is not calculus, but rather a " guess and go" game with new symbols to take the place of the old, limited ones.

This approach, a special one, gives the mathematician, a wider area of problems in which to work, problems that in the future will play an important part in the race through space.

Mariani, who has his bachelor and masters degrees in pure mathematics, will earn his PhD next February at New York University.

The professor’s language barrier establishes many obstacles in his daily life. “The students have been of great help”, the Frenchman said, loading his pipe. “When I am stuck, as you, Americans, say, my pupils tell me what I need. They know what I'm thinking by the expression on my face.”

Mariani has lived in this country 11 years and had worked with Einstein until his death in 1955. He and his wife now live in Brooklyn.

The modern, algebra method, as he explains it, is to show how to use infinite quantity, enough quantity, to fill our known universe, and then some. "We have mathematical laws which are represented by letters in the alphabet," the professor explained, holding a piece of chalk in his hand. The idea is to combine quantities to get logical results, results that work."

With a sweep of his hand, he drew a quick circle on the blackboard. “These quantities are undefined. It's quite difficult, teaching pure mathematics. One needs a high aptitude in perception." An example, the professor pointed out, is that the orbit of a satellite is determined by electronic computers, which compile data that would take years to solve through the human mind. The computer uses all the tricks of modern algebra, but with great rapidity. You give it a question (equation), and it feeds you the answer in a fraction of a second. He took a book from his briefcase. "This book is the first of its kind (referring to the modern algebra text), and it's far from perfect." He leafed through the book. "There's not enough explanation; not enough examples. It's too formal. But before this book (he patted it gently), there was total disunity in this field. At last we have a summary.”

Thinking about each word before speaking, the professor tried to give an accurate account of Einstein's thinking. "Dr. Einstein didn't like the spirit of science. He was in favor of trying to prove the quantum theory (the energy or momentum of an atomic system). Many scientists do not go along with some of Einstein's theories." In trying to answer a loaded question fired at him by one of his students, the professor’s reply went something like this to the question: "Is there life on other planets?”.

No proof of Life Elsewhere

The Frenchman’s answer: "In theory, there is a probability. But the facts needed to support this theory are insufficient. If there was life, or if life exists now, scientists, believe that it is higher than that of earth’s. And being more intelligent, we would think that they would have the means to communicate with other planets in the universe. We have yet to hear any sort of radio signals besides those reflected off the Moon by our own scientists. At this point, I am dubious. If there are any signals traveling through the universe, some would be likely to pass within the range of earths atmosphere. None have yet.”

THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE, FROM WHICH THE CONTENTS WERE TYPED ABOVE.

DR. JEAN MARIANI WITH PROFESSOR EINSTEIN AT THE PRINCETON INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED STUDIES (1951).

A REBUTTAL TO THE ARTICLE BELOW:

(Chantal Mariani’s notes are in red, beginning with this sign——>)

“Jean Mariani's bumpy road. An ambitious young physicist seduced by Pétain's National Revolution” By Christophe Eckes and Laurent Mazliak

The present article deals with the case of a young French physicist, Jean Mariani, who in the 1930s, alongside Léon Brillouin, reflected on the philosophical implications of quantum theory. During the German occupation, Mariani redoubled his activity but also showed himself to be a resolute supporter of the Vichy regime. Condemned at the Liberation, he received astonishing support to be welcomed at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Princeton.

——>HE WAS NOT CONDEMNED AND HIGHLY RECOMMENDED BY REVERED PHYSICISTS (BRILLOIN AND PROFESSOR ALBERT EINSTEIN).

Introduction

The present short note takes up and completes the study (Eckes et Mazliak, 2023) we made a few months ago about a small group of French scientist-philosophers who were interested in the development of quantum mechanics in Paris, in contact with pioneers such as Louis de Broglie or Léon Brillouin. In the article recently proposed for a thematic volume of Philosophia Scientiae devoted to the French academic scene during the Second World War, we showed how this small group had sought to oppose a certain hold of the conceptions defended by the Vienna Circle following the congress of scientific philosophy held in Paris in 1935, following the path traced by the Swiss philosopher Ferdinand Gonseth. Moreover, the upheavals brought about by the defeat of June 1940, the occupation and the change of regime had allowed some members of the group to consolidate their position with a marked opportunism——>PURE CONJECTURE THE PRIOR FRENCH REGIME WAS VERY OPPRESSIVE TO ANY NEW THEORIES AND WAY OF THINKING.

The two most active members of the group, Jean-Louis Destouches and Jean Mariani, took part in 1940 in the creation of a publication "Sciences, Langage, Connaissance" (Science, Language, Knowledge) in which they diffused, among other things, reflections that had been sketched out during a week of study spent in the small resort of Morgat on the coast of Brittany in the fall of 1938.

The fate of Destouches and Mariani after the war was, however, very different. If little accountability seems to have been demanded of Destouches for his activity during the occupation, Mariani had to endure severe reprisals which he tried to overcome by being invited, in a rather astonishing way——> PURE OPINION. NOT ASTONISHING, HE HAD DISCOVERED A WAY OF UNIFYING RELATIVITY WITH THE QUANTUM FIELD to the Institute for Advanced Studies in Princeton. Recently discovered archives show that this adventure was a clear failure——> NOT A FAILURE, MARIANI WORKED CLOSELY WITH EINSTEIN UNTIL HIS DEATH. EINSTEIN TOLD HIM IT WOULD TAKE PHYSICISTS AT LEAST 100 YEARS TO ACCEPT HIS ORIGINAL AND REVOLUTIONARY CONCEPTS which illustrates how, after the conflict, networks more or less linked with supporters of the Vichy regime had sought to help individuals in the United States who were confronted with the post-war purge in French administration, including in the scientific milieu. It thus seemed interesting to us to return to Mariani's career, in more detail than we had done in the article in Philosophia Scientiae.

1- Jean Mariani, young and ambitious physicist

Mariani obtained a licence ès sciences in Lyon in 1930 and joined, in 1931, the editorial board of the Revue de synthèse, in which he assisted the physicist Jean Langevin (son of Paul) for the "natural sciences" section. Mariani's activities for the Revue de synthèse continued until February 1936: he listed works in the physico- mathematical sciences and published two notes ((Mariani 1931) and (Mariani 1932a)), the first one showing a marked interest in the applications of group theory to quantum mechanics. In 1932, the Journal of Physics and the Radium published an article on the "physical meaning of groups of transformations" in which he explained his philosophical options on quantum mechanics. He shows first of all that the notion of observation does not have the same meaning in classical physics and in quantum mechanics. In classical

1 Archives Poincaré. Université de Lorraine. Nancy, France 2 LPSM, Sorbonne-Université, Paris, France.——>

MARIANI'S EXPLANATION OF CLASSICAL PHYSICS VERSUS QUANTUM MECHANICS

physics, it would be a matter of "determining the objective properties of the systems studied" independently of the observations made. In quantum mechanics, on the other hand, "it is impossible to arrive, even theoretically, at the knowledge of such objective properties", because of the interaction between "the measuring instrument and the observed system" (Mariani 1932b, p. 221). This leads to the statement of a "principle of subjectivity", according to which "the observed systems do not possess objective properties and geometric structures" (Mariani, 1932b, p. 221). Nevertheless, it is possible to compare the results of an observation with each other. This comparison results in laws of nature that are formally invariant——> = UNAFFECTED under the action of the group of transformations attached to the system under study (Mariani, 1932b, p. 223-224).

After sending this article to the Journal de physique, Mariani became Léon Brillouin's assistant at the Collège de France

——>PRESTIGIOUS POSITION AND TOP UNIVERSITY OF FRANCE-COMPARABLE TO YALE IN USA. In the early 1930s, Brillouin was one of the main promoters of quantum mechanics in France (Vila-Valls 2012, p. 129 ff) and, in January 1932, he succeeded his father Marcel in the chair of theoretical physics at the Collège de France.

Mariani, Brillouin's assistant at the Collège de France (a position whose contours were in fact very vague and somewhat akin to that of a handyman),——> THE ENTIRE PREVIOUS SENTENCE REFLECTS A DISDAINFUL, BIASED, AND PERSONAL OPINION FOR NO LOGICAL REASON. took advantage of this position to develop a program of philosophical interpretation of quantum mechanics that he seems to have proposed to Brillouin a few years earlier and that must have seemed sufficiently interesting to him to recruit the young man. In his thesis on the diffusion of quantum mechanics in France, Vila-Valls suggests that Brillouin had little interest in philosophical debates, and there are indeed few texts from the 1930s written by Brillouin on these questions. But our research seems to reveal that Brillouin in fact delegated to Mariani and Destouches the participation in these debates where they could usefully expose his own conception of quantum theory which was aligned neither with the wave theory of de Broglie, nor with the views of the Copenhagen school. If he seems to have occupied a lot of space in Brillouin's entourage during these years, the memory that Mariani left is contrasted. The physicist Anatole Abragam writes in his memoirs: "(Brillouin) gave a two-year course on tensors and their applications. I liked his course and I came to offer my services. He dismissed me with a very curt "See my assistant". His assistant, a man named Mariani, was said to play tennis very well, but he had given a lecture at De Broglie's seminar which discouraged me from going to see him. Exit Brillouin" (Abragam, 1989). Abragam further complains about a time when the very hierarchical functioning of the French university meant that the research candidate was a "rugby ball" that was "passed around" without taking the time to get interested.

Mariani took advantage of his position——-> (OPINION AGAIN!) as assistant to develop his program of philosophical interpretation of quantum mechanics. If Brillouin did not intervene in these philosophical debates (Vila-Valls 2012, p. 134), he seems to have delegated to Mariani and Destouches the task of participating in them.

The first congress of scientific philosophy took place in Paris from 15 to 23 September 1935. If it was dominated by logical positivism in its Berlin or Viennese version, other aspects of scientific philosophy were expressed, notably in the philosophy of mathematics, as attested by the intervention of Gonseth, who endeavored to reconstitute the genesis of the rules of logic that characterized the practice of proof in mathematics. He maintains that mathematics "is oriented from the concrete of intuition to the abstract of pure logic (...) without the latter being itself pre-existent and pre-determined in its essence" (Gonseth 1936a, p. 2). In doing so, Gonseth considers that logic is a physics of the object of any kind, before criticizing head-on the representatives of the Vienna Circle (Gonseth 1936a, p. 23).

Mariani was one of the invited speakers at the Paris congress of 1935 and presented a paper on "Objectivity in mathematics and physics deduced from the theory of groups", not reproduced in the proceedings of the congress. He extended his reflections on the principle of subjectivity with the publication of (Mariani 1937). Initially focused on the questions of objectivity and subjectivity in physics, this text questions these categories in various fields of life, in particular in psychology. Brillouin prefaces the work in a very

laudatory tone, underlining the principle of subjectivity introduced by Mariani in 1932 and revisited in this work. For Mariani, quantum mechanics constitutes "the example of a theory in which the objective laws of nature do not translate the objective properties of objects" (Mariani 1937, p. 26). He also pays particular attention to the systems of axioms in the logical-mathematical sciences and indicates that he agrees with Gonseth's thesis on logic as the physics of any object.

Besides Mariani, another young physicist seems to have been particularly seduced by the approach proposed by Gonseth: Jean-Louis Destouches. To this small group was also added, even if it was in a more distant way, the philosopher Gaston Bachelard who since his text of 1934 "the new scientific spirit" also pleaded for an applied rationalism which realizes a median way between the idealism and the realism. It was moreover during the Paris congress of July 1937 (nicknamed Descartes congress because its pretext was the third centennial of the publication of Descartes' Discourse on the Method) that Gonseth and Bachelard seem to have met for the first time. In the present paper, we shall not comment further on Destouches, Bachelard and Gonseth and we refer the reader to our paper Eckes and Mazliak (2022) for more details.

In 1937, Mariani published at Hermann a work entitled limite des notions d'objet et d'objectivité. Prefaced by Brillouin, the book was devoted to the question of objectivity and subjectivity in physics and the way in which thinking about this theme leads to questioning these categories in all the fields of life.

Brillouin's introductory text was very laudatory and indicated from the beginning that he had a clear desire to encourage Mariani.

it seemed to me indispensable to proceed to a fundamental revision of the scientific concepts, a revision of a philosophical nature at first sight, but whose practical consequences could be of great importance. (...) What Mariani presents, under the name of principle of subjectivity, is this affirmation that the imagined representation, in the form of an object, corresponds only approximately to reality, so that the essential of scientific laws can and must be presented independently of any particular representation. The aim of science is not to give us a description, more or less colored and detailed, of the external world; the scientific knowledge is the one that allows, from a certain number of measurements and observations made at a given moment, to predict the result that will be given by some later measurements; the prediction can be only approximate and expressed by laws of probability; in some particular cases, the prediction will be a certainty. The laws of prediction are the goal of our research.

The ambition defended by Mariani is to build a theory of subjective knowledge. He writes that "it was necessary to arrive until quantum theory to find the example of a theory in which the objective laws of nature do not translate the objective properties of the objects" Mariani (1937, p.26). It is therefore necessary to accept to abandon the idea of an objectivist axiomatics. For Mariani, the great merit of Hilbert's axiomatics for geometry is to allow a purely subjective approach in the sense that the particular representation of geometric beings is left to the free choice of the observer. In such an approach, if the logical relations have the maximum objectivity, the fundamental geometric beings have the maximum subjectivity. "Hilbert did not notice that this change of point of view could serve as a basis for a kind of meta-axiomatics, constituted by the principles of objectivity and subjectivity, which regulate the scope of the axioms". Mariani then remarks that he joins Gonseth in his conception of logic as "physics of the arbitrary object". Mariani underlines the validity of Gonseth's idoneism as a dialectical way between axiomatics (which is not at all a founding moment) and the experience of "new notions".

An audacious originality of Mariani's book is to extend his field of action from the theory of subjectivity to other horizons, and in particular, to psychology, leading to a radically subjective theory of knowledge. The theory of subjectivity of the world is based on the fact that "the susbtantially objective universe of the vulgar knowledge seems to have no kind of scientific basis: what appears primitively given, it is something eminently subjective, the sensation: in the limit of validity of this fact, the world is not objective as essence of the things". (Mariani 1937, p.66)

On July 22, 1938, on his return from the Cambridge 4th conference on the unity of science, the mathematician Maurice Fréchet reported to the Italian statistician Bruno de Finetti that he had mentioned his text "probabilisti di Cambridge" during his intervention, before adding that "certain philosophers of science who do not agree with the point of view of the formalist school of Vienna (especially represented at this 4th congress) will meet in a very restricted colloquium ____>(ACADEMIC CONFERENCE) at the Grand Hôtel de la Mer in Morgat (Finistère) from September 10 to 17. In particular, Mr. Jean Mariani will deal with the subject of objectivity and subjectivity. Fréchet suggested to de Finetti to write to the philosopher Louis Rougier to ask for the program. Rougier anticipated the call and, on July 31, he sent de Finetti an invitation. The latter declined the invitation on August 3, but pointed out that he was "perfectly in agreement with the program" thanks to Fréchet's explanation of the origin of the group - and thus the opposition to logical empiricism ——>(WHAT MARIANI WAS AGAINST).

Attached to the letter sent by Rougier to de Finetti was the invitation circular containing the program in the form of a list of six themes linked to a speaker: "lost philosophical positions" (Rougier), "Objectivity and subjectivity" (Mariani), "Physics and knowledge" (Destouches), "Logic and knowledge" (Février), "Science and knowledge" (Gonseth), "the new scientific spirit" (Bachelard). Among the protagonists who attended this event were the Swiss mathematician Rolin Wavre and the philosopher Georges Matisse . The organizers were keen to give a certain visibility to the meeting, as shown by an insert in the newspaper "Le Temps" of September 10, 1938, dedicated to this "congress of scientific philosophy". The Entretiens de Morgat were ultimately a founding act for the group around Gonseth who had just formalized his break with the Vienna Circle. Two other meetings allowed some members of this group to consolidate their ties: the Amersfoort Talks (September 19-25, 1938, published in 1939 by Hermann) and the Zurich Talks (December 6-9, 1938). A published version of the Entretiens de Morgat will see the light of day during the Occupation.

2- A troubled activity under the German occupation

After the turmoil of the summer of 1940, Mariani was in Paris. On a request for authorization to access the library of the Institut Henri Poincaré, he indicated that he was preparing a thesis under the direction of Louis de Broglie. The latter countersigned the request by indicating "very favorable opinion". However, let us say right away that the thesis in question never seems to have been defended. On the other hand, the young physicist seems to have been quite active, as well as his colleague Destouches. According to documents in the Destouches papers, in the autumn of 1940, both of them considered creating a periodical publication that would go far beyond the reflections on the philosophy of science that had emerged from the lectures at the Collège de France and the Entretiens de Morgat. Aimed at non-specialists, this periodical project was intended to gather contributions ranging from mathematics to medicine, with some ramifications in the field of industry.

In the end, the ambitious project of a periodical carried by Destouches and Mariani at the beginning of the Occupation did not materialize, undoubtedly because of the practical difficulties that scientific publishing had to face at the time. We do not know which publisher was intended to take on this project. At the beginning of 1942, the editorial ambitions of Destouches and Mariani were revived, as shown by the model of a new project for a periodical entitled "Science et Connaissance" which, as the subtitle indicates, brings together a "series of publications on scientific philosophy, logic and epistemology". An initial list of collaborators was proposed, offering a strong scientific and intellectual guarantee to this project.

It is in fact another type of publication by Jean Mariani that throws a cloudy light on his activity of the period. In 1941, the Van Oest publishing house published his book entitled "Reform of the French mind". The author wanted to underline that the threat of a French decline had been constantly denounced and foreseen by clear-sighted minds who underlined the maladjustment of French society to the modern world. But the ruling classes were deaf, and class and caste egoism reigned supreme. As Mariani writes, "The Frenchman, unlike the German, and this because of an absurd educational system, is more logical than imaginative. (...) Each time that the French genius has imposed itself on the world with a Du Gesclin, a Joan of Arc, a Napoleon, a Pasteur, it has been by an effort of dynamism, of renewal of practical sense that has broken the rigid and antiquated carcass under which it was supposed to be hemmed in and suffocated. At the center of the problem, the educational system, because "any school in our country is a school of pre- civil servants". But the intellectual problem is not less significant. For Mariani, who seeks inspiration in his works of physics, one extended with lightness teachings of the classic science, which engendered an erroneous extension of the notion of objectivity and by this way a decline of the idea of fatherland and French nation in the university. But the catastrophe revealed the bankruptcy of the objectivist obsession and of universalism. Mariani then rants against the Popular Front, which had precisely tried to objectify the need for economic equality, and this Marxist experiment ended in the industrial collapse of France and the disaster of May 1940. A rather impressive chapter (it is 1941...) is entitled "The German mentality": the author underlines there the very sharp sense of practical realities and the primacy granted to the facts of experience which characterizes a German people who keeps their feet on the ground while the French revel in speculations, under the leadership of a harmful gerontocracy. In a section devoted to the necessary reform of teaching, an examination of classic philosophy textbooks from the 1930s (those of Cuvillier or Challaye) reveals that they all seek to prove that Marxism and internationalism are the necessary outcome of the objectivity of science. There would have been, according to Mariani, a real will to keep the students away from a real reflection on science, as illustrated by the fact that the "certificate of history of sciences of the Sorbonne in spite of its intrinsic value is followed only by two or three amateur students". Calling for a necessary virility in action, the author demands the re-establishment of a strong state control and condemns the "liberalism which only seeks individual profit".

The trace of Mariani is more or less lost from the end of 1942 to the Liberation, even if his name appears in the two volumes entitled "Science, Language, Knowledge", the second one dated 1944, devoted to the publication of the talks given in Morgat. In fact, as we explain in our article in Philosophia Scientiae, the publication contained much more than what was its initial impulse. It was essentially Jean-Louis Destouches who was in charge, Mariani having more or less vanished into thin air. ——>NO! WAS HIDING FROM THE NAZI’S WHO MARKED HIS DESK IN RED BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO RECRUIT HIM AND HE REFUSED.

HIS FATHER, JEAN MARIANI SR PICTURED HERE WAS A FRENCH “INTENDANT GÉNÉRAL” WITH THE RESISTANCE WHO HID A JEWISH FAMILY IN HIS BASEMENT.

At the Liberation, Destouches escaped any real trouble although his wife, Paulette Février, had some slight problems. But the Conseil supérieur d'Enquête (High Council of Inquiry) was severe against Mariani, as attested by his administrative purge file, including documents from the autumn of 1940 to the spring of 1955, to which is added a small file in the archives of the Direction de la surveillance du territoire (DST). We learn that in the fall of 1940, Mariani left compromising documents at the theoretical physics laboratory of the Collège de France. ——>THIS MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL BECAUSE OF THE ABOVE INFORMATION I FURNISHED, AND ALSO BECAUSE HIS WIFE/MY MOTHER WAS JEWISH!! The administration of the Collège wanted him to leave his position as assistant, since Brillouin was no longer working there. Mariani was even forbidden access to the building from December 1940 on the decision of the administrator Edmond Faral. The documents left at the Collège de France were rediscovered in April 1945. They attest to links with the French national-collectivist party led by Eugène Deloncle. They also contain an unsigned libel to Marshal Pétain calling for physical violence against "Jews and left-wing saboteurs". This libel was accompanied by a list of 22 academics, including Edmond Faral, the physicists Pierre Auger and Eugène Bloch, the biochemist Nine Choucroun, the biologist Boris Ephrussi, the economist Jean Ullmo, and the philosophers Léon Brunschvicg and Jean Cavaillès.

In the autumn of 1940, Mariani planned to publish a Manifesto to Marshal Pétain of about sixty pages, which, after being revised, would result in (Mariani 1941). ——->UNFINISHED SENTENCE!!

Faral gave copies of some of the documents thus discovered to Colonel André Serot's Air Security Service, in connection with Mariani's mobilization as a non-commissioned officer in the Air Force in 1939-1940, then in 1944-1945. Mariani was summoned on September 5, 1945 to explain his links with the French national-collectivist party, before his file was transmitted to the DST. On July 2, 1946, Faral sent the originals to the Ministry of National Education, with a letter in which he specified that the Assembly of Professors at the Collège de France had waited for Brillouin's return to France to rule on Mariani, before adding that Brillouin "had again left on a mission before the session (June 23, 1946) where the question was to be examined and decided". The Conseil supérieur d'enquête de l'Éducation nationale (CSE) took up the case and proposed on November 20, 1946 that Mariani be automatically retired. The CSE considered that Mariani was the author of the libel targeting Jews and left-wing personalities, which he had knowingly accompanied with a list of academics considered "to be his adversaries”. ____>THERE IS NO PROOF THAT HE WAS THE AUTHOR OF SUCH LIBEL. PAPERS COULD HAVE EASILY BEEN PLANTED IN HIS DESK, OR GIVEN TO HIM. THEY COULDN'T REACH A DECISION ON MARIANI WHILE WAITING FOR PROFESSOR BRILLOIN. IF THIS WERE TRUE, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN INCARCERATED AS A NAZI COLLABORATOR, YET HE WAS INVITED AND HIRED TO WORK AT PRINCETON INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED STUDIES WITH PROFESSOR EINSTEIN. HOW COULD THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT AND PRINCETON OVERLOOK ALL OF THIS IF THERE WERE A TRUE BASE TO IT?

3- The failure of an American restart

On November 27, 1946, the Ministry of Education decided that Mariani should be dismissed without pension, the highest penalty in an administrative purge procedure. Mariani lodged an appeal on the grounds of “formal defects” ——->(MEANING HE WAS ACCUSING THE PURGE PROCEDURE USED ON HIM OF BEING DEFECTIVE) before the Conseil d'Etat in February 1947, which was finally rejected in May 1948. Nevertheless, foreseeing an unfavorable outcome of his request, Mariani had in fact already in the spring of 1946 prepared his backgrounds to seek help from his former acquaintances, Rougier and Brillouin, who had now settled in the United States. The archives of Princeton University, which have preserved the entire Mariani file, make it possible to follow the case very closely.

On March 16, 1946, Louis Rougier sent a short letter to John von Neumann at Princeton in which he mentioned that "two of his best friends (sic), Jean Louis Destouches (Institut Henri Poincaré, 4 rue Thenard, Paris V°) and Jean Mariani (Collège de France, 16 rue Monge, Paris V°) asked me to let you know that they are working on the same field as you are doing (...) Both of them would be very interested in receiving a scholarship for the Institute for Advanced Study.”It is quite remarkable that at this point Rougier openly displayed his unwavering support for Pétain's defense (Rougier (1946)), a fact that did not seem to trouble von Neumann at all either because he was uninterested in the twists and turns of French domestic politics, or because the hostility displayed by the United States towards de Gaulle gave Rougier a favorable position in his eyes as a frantic anti-Gaullist. He hastened to take the bait and sent a letter to Mariani on April 11, 1946, in which he indicated that he would be very happy if the invitation of Mariani and Destouches to Princeton could take place.

In June 1946, Mariani took advantage of the visit to Paris of his former boss, Léon Brillouin, to ask him to intervene in his turn. Back in New-York in August 1946, Brillouin wrote to John von Neumann. In this letter, Brillouin wrote a rather staggering eulogy of Mariani. He wrote

“Mariani is a very interesting fellow, practically self-educated,——> (HE HAD A PHD IN PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE ALREADY BECAUSE THERE WERE NONE AVAILABLE IN PHYSICS AT THAT TIME) with extremely bright and original ideas, which he has not yet been able to publish in a final and logical shape. He started about 10 years ago (sic), and came to me at the Collège de France in Paris, to explain how he wanted to investigate the connection between electromagnetism, gravitation and relativity. I immediately noticed a boy with great gift, but also great lacks in his education. I took him as my assistant at the Collège de France, and he worked near me for 3 years until the war. His theory was progressing, but was still very crude in some places - where he was making rather wild (but not at all unreasonable) guesses. When I went back to Paris last spring, Mariani brought me an enormous amount of theoretical work he had accumulated during the years of war, when he was working all by himself in a remote country place of France.—-> SO HE DID NOT "VANISH" AS THE AUTHORS CLAIMED EARLIER -(…) This man needs some real help and sound advice, and he should be able to discuss his problems with you and with Einstein. He has been practically isolated for 7 years, without any contact with any scientist who could even guess what he was after. His only connection was with Cartan who gave him some very good advice about the mathematical structure, but was entirely unsympathetic with the physical interpretation. To put it frankly, Cartan felt as if someone was trying to pervert his nice young boy and to use a fine theory for a dirty business.”

At the end of his lyrical flight, Brillouin pointed out Mariani's tennis skills (which he could have made his profession), and added, perhaps showing a slight concern for the one he indirectly recommended to Einstein: "I told you the boy is slightly crazy but I feel he needs encouragement and a proper environment”. --->ECCENTRIC YES, BUT NO MORE THAN THAT, AND A REMARKABLE HUMAN BEING

The question arises as to what, in Brillouin's support of his former assistant, is a matter of credulous naivety in the face of what Mariani had told him and what is a deliberately dishonest——> THERE WAS ADMIRATION HERE, AND NOT DISHONESTY. strategy to force his way into Princeton. It is rather difficult to think that Brillouin was unaware that Mariani, not so isolated, had published several notes at the CRAS during the Occupation, presented by Louis de Broglie, that he was in contact with the latter and with Destouches, and no doubt with other participants in the two volumes of "Science, langage, connaissance". If it is possible that, in exile in the United States since 1941, he was not aware of these volumes, it is slightly surprising that, before leaving for New York in 1941, he did not perceive the political orientation of his young colleague.——-> BECAUSE THIS WAS FABRICATED AGAINST MARIANI. HE DID NOT PERECEIVE IT BECAUSE IT DID NOT EXIST.

In any case, Brillouin could not have been unaware that he was himself a scientist much appreciated by his American colleagues and that they would not fail to be attentive to his recommendations. Von Neumann immediately sent a circular letter to his colleagues at the IAS to remind them that the idea of inviting Mariani had already been raised. On December 11, 1946, von Neumann informed Brillouin that the IAS had decided to invite Mariani for the academic year 1947-48 and in the letter sent the same day to Mariani, he mentioned that he had been awarded a grant of $2100. On January 6, 1947, Mariani eagerly accepted, and von Neumann, on January 15, expressed his great joy, not without taking the time to give him advice on how to find housing in Princeton because the local situation was very congested. Exchanges continue until the summer to ensure that Mariani has the most comfortable stay. On April 21, Frank Aydelotte, director of the IAS, sent an official invitation to Mariani to the American consulate in Paris to obtain a visa. He points out that it is "exactly the kind of letters which I have written on various occasions to Niels Bohr in Denmark, Dirac, Whitehead, Newman and Burkill in England, and I see no reason why it should not be satisfactory to our officials in Paris. The status which we are offering you is exactly the status which had been offered to the men I have indicated above and a large number of other distinguished scholars (including Hardy) from various countries.”

One may legitimately wonder why Aydelotte felt compelled to add this last sentence. At the very least, it suggests to Mariani that he should be aware of the honor of being welcomed in this temple of physics that is Princeton (in an earlier letter, Mariani himself had not failed to point out that he was "a little anxious when I see on the book of the Institute the names of Einstein, Pauli, Wigner and so on"). It may also indicate a certain perplexity on the part of the director as to the legitimacy of the invitation.—-> ABSOLUTELY NOT! ANOTHER DEPRECATING, SURMISING CONJECTURE, WITH NO BASIS OR FACTS. JEAN MARIANI WAS THE MOST DEEPLY HUMBLE MAN, AND HE WAS EXTREMELY HONORED TO BE IN THE COMPANY OF THESE GREAT PHYSICISTS, PLUS WAS ACCEPTING A NEW JOB IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY OF WHICH HE DID NOT SPEAK THE LANGUAGE. THAT IS QUITE INTIMIDATING IN ITSELF. On May 27, 1947, Mariani announced his arrival at Princeton for September.

He actually arrived in October 1947. The consultation of his questionnaire at the immigration department holds some surprises, and reveals the character that Mariani was building before his arrival at the IAS.——> =INSTITUTE OF ADVANCED STUDIES. We read that in addition to his Licence es sciences obtained in Lyon in 1930, he would have obtained a doctorate in sciences at the Sorbonne in 1946. Moreover, he declared himself "Director of Studies" of the Institute of Philosophy of Science at the Sorbonne since 1936, and assistant at the Collège de France since 1932. Finally, he was awarded a Lavoisier medal by the Philomathic Society of Paris in 1943. Apart from the position at the Collège de France, which we have already said had no real institutional significance since it was the sole wish of the holder of a chair, we have not been able to confirm any of the other assertions, and in particular the doctorate of 1946, which as was already mentioned seems to be absolutely fanciful. ——>THIS IS ANOTHER CONJECTURE AND OPINION ON THE AUTHORS’ PART. THE INFORMATION SOMEHOW GOT CONFUSED. JEAN MARIANI SPECIFICALLY TOLD ME HAD A DOCTORATE IN PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE SINCE THERE WERE NO DOCTORATES AVAILABLE IN PHYSICS AT THAT EARLY TIME. HIS PHILOSOPHY DOCTORATE EXPLAINS HIS COMBINING PHILOSOPHY AND QUANTUM MECHANICS AND HIS DEEP THINKING THROUGHOUT LIFE.

In November 1947, just after his arrival at Princeton, Mariani was able to publish in the "letters to the editors" section a short paper in which he proposed an interpretation of the proportionality between the magnetic moment and the angular momentum of a celestial body which had just been verified by the astronomer H. W. Babcock for the star 78 Virginis (Babcock (1947) ) using the theory he had developed in his notes to the CRAS of 1944 (Mariani (1944a-b) ). It should be noted that such a communication is not a publication, in the sense that it is not subject to peer review, and it is likely that the institutional affiliation with the IAS, which Mariani did not fail to indicate, led to the inclusion of the letter without further discussion. ——>OPINION-THIS WAS VERIFIED BY BABCOCK WHO USED THIS THEORY YET THESE AUTHORS ARE KILLING THEMSELVES TO FIND NO WORTH IN THE PAPER.

The same was not true of Mariani's bumpy submission of a publication to the journal Physical Review. Although we do not have the text in question, it is very likely that it was an English version of the text he had printed just before his departure from France by the Centre de documentation universitaire, entitled "Théorie des champs macroscopiques". ——> THEORY OF MACROSCOPIC FIELDS. This 98-page manuscript was intended to explain how to overcome the failure of general relativity to account geometrically for electro-magnetism, whereas it had succeeded perfectly in doing so with gravitation by replacing Euclidean geometry by Riemannian geometry. For Mariani, the mistake would be to try to find a more general system than Riemannian geometry, whereas it is the basic principles that must be modified. Indeed, contrary to the commonly held opinion, realistic physics is not even justified at the human scale and in order to interpret observable phenomena, it is necessary to modify our macroscopic representation of the world. (p.6)

"For a long time, the general philosophy and the classical psychology have shown that the usual representation of the familiar objects does not result (...) from the intrinsic immediate knowledge. It is built by a process of operations and relations from the purely subjective sensation. It is these operations that have an intersubjective or objective reality but through external objects of which they make us aware." For Mariani, the only objective reality is the possibility of observations. For example, for a magnet, it is the observation that creates the lines of force: this integral subjectivity thus offers a very different point of view from that of wave mechanics for which the intervention of the instrument only disturbs some of the intrinsic properties of the observed system. Here the properties are not disturbed but are created by the observation. It is thus a kind of radical non-realism, which is not an idealism "because the existence of the human mind plays no role in it", Mariani prefers to speak of sub-realism because his theory possesses a kind of virtuality, that of manifesting itself to the observation and in this sense, it is distinguished from pure positivism.

In fact it is the analogue for the physical world of Hilbert's theory for geometry; in Euclid's axiomatics, the geometric beings, point, line, plane etc., are univocally determined and the axioms describe the intrinsic properties of these beings, without which they could not be conceived; in realist physics, the material bodies play the role of geometric beings in Euclid's presentation: they possess the intrinsic properties of charge, proper mass, etc., and are surrounded by fields; the laws of physics, which hold the place of Euclidean axioms, describe these properties and the distribution of fields. Hilbert's axiomatization has a completely different character: the geometrical beings are a priori indeterminate - like the material bodies in our physical theory - and the axioms are logical relations established between these beings, empty of concrete content; in the same way, in our conception of physics, there are objective relations,

established by observation between physical beings without properties in themselves.

(pp.16-17)

——>SUMMATION OF MARIANI’S THEORY

Mariani's idea is therefore to propose the introduction of a parameter σ and a function ψ(σ) in physical laws that allow to express an arbitrariness of choice available to the observer. The end of Mariani's essay (section VI, p.93) outlines his interpretation of the earth's electric field through his theory.

On February 9, 1948, John Tate, editor of the journal, sent Oppenheimer a brief message to inform him of the refusal of the publication: "I have had adverse comments from the Editorial Board. One of the Associate Editors writes that the style is too verbose. (...) He doubts whether the paper has any really new physical content."

Three months later, Tate received a letter from Brillouin in which the latter sent him a new rewritten version of Mariani's paper which he hoped could be published in the Physical Review. In the opening, Brillouin mentions that the paper "is a very original and important contribution to theoretical physics, and it opens new ways for theoretical investigations." But Brillouin, far from being satisfied with these positive words, adds two paragraphs that constitute a real panegyric——>PRAISE OF HIS FORMER ASSISTANT

I have known Mariani since 1933 when he became my assistant at the Collège de France in Paris, and I worked with him for a number or years trying to help him to clarify his ideas and to present them in a precise and logical way. His aim was to obtain a generalization of Einstein's general relativity in order to include the electromagnetic fields in the geometrical representation. Similar attempts had been made by H.Weyl, Einstein and many others but without any great success. Mariani finally discovered that a special kind of geometry, known as "geometry with torsion" could be used successfully for that purpose.——> IN SUPPORT OF JEAN MARIANI’S THEORY AND MOST IMPORTANT WORK.

He made a very careful study of the mathematics of this geometry, as found in the classical books or papers of Cartan, Levi-Civita, Weyl, Eisenhart , and he proposed in 1936-1937 a physical theory based upon the geometry with torsion. One of the first results he obtained (1037) was a formula giving solar and terrestrial magnetism. This formula was rediscovered last year by Blackett. As for the geometries with torsion, they form the basis of the theory advanced by Schrödinger last year. On both points, Mariani has a priority of ten years at least. But he published only a few short notes in the French Comptes-Rendus and in some other little read publications. The war years made it impossible for him to get in touch with other physicists, and he first came to this country this year with a fellowship at the Princeton Institute.——>HIS EQUATIONS CAME 10 YEARS PRIOR TO SCHRÖDINGER USING/DISCOVERING THEM.

WHY SUCH UNEXPLAINED VENOM AND VENDETTA AGAINST THIS PHYSICIST---TO DESTROY MARIANI’S WORTH AND REPUTATION?? IT IS CRYSTAL CLEAR THERE IS A DEFINITE MALEFICENT AGENDA BEHIND THIS CHARACTER ASSASSINATION POSING AS A SCIENTIFIC PAPER. One is lost in conjecture as to how Brillouin could have come forward to support Jean Mariani in front of all the stars of the American academic world of the time. It seems impossible that Brillouin did not largely believe the words he used and that he really saw Mariani as a misunderstood genius. It is moreover probable that a certain form if not of disinterest, at least of delegation to Mariani and Destouches concerning the philosophical interpretation of quantum physics through the prism of the mathematics on which it is based, convinced him of the mastery of his subject by his young colleague.

After receiving such a letter, Tate could do no less than contact Oppenheimer again for advice. On May 20, 1948, he wrote him an embarrassed message.—->OPINION: WHO SAYS THE MESSAGE WAS EMBARRASSED IN NATURE??

I am again appealing to you for advice with respect to the paper by Jean Mariani on "Unitary Field Theory and Cosmic Magnetism" which has been rewritten and resubmitted to the Physical Review through Dr. Brillouin of Harvard. You may remember that both you and the Associate Editor found his first paper incomprehensible and I returned it to the author refusing publication in its present form but without prejudice to acceptance of a redraft. I enclose a copy of Brillouin's letter of transmittal.

I find the redraft of the paper incomprehensible but this is not surprising because I do not have the necessary mathematical background. I would like to ask you whether Mariani's work is known to you or other members of the Institute , and if so, whether it is regarded as sensible.

Oppenheimer's response four days later was blunt about his personal opinion of Mariani's paper.

Thank you for your letter about Mariani. I have not seen the revised manuscript and thus my advice may not be too helpful. There are a number of people here who are experts both in tha mathematics and physics of the area in which Mariani works: Weyl, Taub, Veblen, von Neumann, not to mention Einstein. I think their view, like mine, has been that Mariani has made no real contribution. On the other hand, in matters as difficult as this, we should, I think, lean over backward to give people a hearing, provided what they write is clear and honest.

In its first version, Mariani's work was certainly not clear. If, with a kindly bias, one could now so find it, I would not continue to oppose publication. My own view is that the entire approach is rubbish, but more eminent men have made more categorical statements about things that have turned out to be very good.——> EINSTEIN VERBALLY TOLD MARIANI IT WOULD TAKE AT LEAST 100 YEARS FOR THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY TO UNDERSTAND AND SEE THE TRUTH OF THIS WORK.

The article was obviously not published. A few articles by physicists in 1948 and 1949 mention Mariani's work, but not without expressing their skepticism. In Nature (20 March 1948), the English mathematician H. T. H. Piaggio wrote

Mariani's latest treatment starts from philosophic considerations, akin to those of Kant, concerning the impossibility of knowing 'the thing in itself'. From the point of view of the average physicist, this is unfortunate. Even if he has the patience to read it, he may merely draw the depressing conclusion that no objective scientific measurement can exist. The next section of the work is something like a generalized theory of relativity, but with many coefficients that are quite indeterminate. Then suddenly, by means of a principle of identification, the treatment becomes much more definite. All the equations, except one, reduce to something like the ordinary gravitational theory of relativity. The one exception is the distinctive point of the theory, and its significance seems to be that a gravitational field must necessarily be accompanied by an electrical field. (...) Those who are interested in the matter will wish to examine Mariani's arguments for themselves; they will probably find the four short papers in Comptes Rendus easier to understand than the fuller and more philosophic version. HIS WORK WAS INNOVATIVE AND REVOLUTIONARY, THEREFORE HARD TO ACCEPT.

The final documents in the Mariani file at Princeton provide a final touch regarding the stay at the IAS. Without knowing if it was related to a job application, in September 1951, the Division of Medical Sciences of the National Research Council sent to the IAS a request for information on its former trainee. If the secretary of the director of the IAS sends on October 2, 1951 a refusal ("Dr. Jean Mariani was appointed a Member of the School of Mathematics of the Institute for Advanced Study for the academic year 1947-48. I am unable to find anyone here who is willing to comment on Dr. Mariani's work or his sojourn at the Institute"), a preparatory sheet of the answer contains a pithy sentence of the mathematician Marton Morse, another member of the Institute, who writes: "I understand his mission here was not altogether satisfactory".

The trace of Mariani seems to be lost afterwards.——> FALSE!!! NO. MARIANI WAS INTERVIEWED IN AN ARTICLE “EINSTEIN AID TEACHING NEW HIGHER MATH CONCEPT” IN THE HERALD NEWS, NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 18, 1959. The only precise document we found is the mention of his death on December 26, 1989 in New York, the news of which was transmitted in March 1995 for registration to the administration of his birth town Narbonne.—-> NO!! MARIANI TAUGHT HIGHER MATH AT FAIRLEIGH DICKINSON, RUTGERS AND POSSIBLY COLUMBIA UNIVERSITIES BEFORE BECOMING CHAIRMAN OF THE MATH DEPARTMENT AT NEW YORK INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY. AFTER THIS HE RETIRED AND CONTINUED TO BAFFLE PEOPLE WITH HIS TENNIS PROWESS.

Conclusion

The trajectory of Jean Mariani after the Liberation is eventful and illustrates in a singular way the chaos that reigned in the years following the return of the republican regime in France, when the contradictory ambitions to punish those who had compromised with the Occupier or the Vichy regime were mixed with the desire of the new authorities to ensure a certain continuity of services, against the background of the more or less clear and improbable connections and links that had been established during the troubled years between individuals with varied aspirations. What makes the case of Mariani interesting is that it concerns a rather young person, more or less unknown and therefore rather transparent, who benefited from rather extraordinary support for a few years that gave him a real chance to rebound. Even if it was a failure, the passage through the Princeton Institute illustrates how scientific networks were able to play in favor of personalities who would probably have had little chance, in another context, to benefit from such an invitation. In passing, it also illustrates both a certain indifference (or ignorance) of the political situation in post-war France and a pragmatic desire to cast a sort of modest veil over the period of the German occupation and the Vichy regime, at least for people who are not too prominent. Mariani eventually disappeared from circulation (or at least from the scientific scene) rather quickly in 1949 but he never seems to have been worried after his departure from France for his activities during the Occupation.

—-> FOR ALL THESE AUTHORS’ CLAIM TO OMNISCIENCE ABOUT MARIANI, THEY ARE NOT EVEN AWARE OF HIS WORK IN THE YEARS AFTER PRINCETON, OR EVEN THE EXISTENCE OF HIS DAUGHTER CHANTAL MARIANI, WHO NOW STANDS TO DEFEND AGAINST THE MANY INJUSTICES COMMITTED IN THIS PAPER.

REFERENCES:

(Abragam, 1989) Abragam, Anatole. Time Reversal, an autobiography (De la physique avant toute chose (title of the Fr. original)). Oxford University Press, 1989.

(Babock, 1947) Babock, H.W. Magnetic Fields of Astronomical Bodies. Physical Review,72, 1947. 83

(Eckes et Mazliak 2023) Christophe Eckes – Laurent Mazliak. Les Entretiens de Morgat : nouvelles perspectives historiques sur une réponse francophone face aux positivismes logiques (1935-1948). Philosophia Scientiae, 2023 (to appear).

(Gonseth 1936a) Ferdinand Gonseth, « La logique en tant que physique de l’objet quelconque », in Actes du congrès international de philosophie scientifique, tome VI, philosophie des mathématiques, Paris, Hermann, 1936, p. 1-23.

(Gonseth 1936b) Ferdinand Gonseth. Les mathématiques et la réalité. Essai sur la méthode axiomatique, Paris, Alcan, 1936.

(Mariani 1931) Jean Mariani, « Les derniers développements de la physique théorique », Revue de synthèse, tome II, 1931, p. 145-163.

(Mariani 1932a) Jean Mariani, « Évariste Galois et l’évolution des mathématiques », Revue de synthèse, tome IV, 1932, p. 7-14.

(Mariani 1932b) Jean Mariani, « signification physique des groupes de transformations » le Journal de physique et le Radium, 1932, 3(5), p. 221.

(Mariani 1937) Jean Mariani, Les limites des notions d’objet et d’objectivité, Paris, Hermann, 1937.

(Mariani 1941) Jean Mariani, Réforme de l’esprit français, Paris, Van Oest, éditions d’art et d’histoire, 1941.

(Mariani 1944a) Mariani, Jean. Espace de Riemann à torsion et électromagnétisme. CRAS 218, 1944, 447- 449.

(Mariani 1944b) Mariani, Jean. Une interprétation théorique du magnétisme terrestre et solaire. CRAS 218, 1944, 585-586.

(Rougier 1946) Louis Rougier, Mission secrète à Londres, les accords Pétain-Churchill, Genève, Constant Bourquin, 1946.

(Vila-Valls 2012) Adrien Vila-Valls, Louis de Broglie et la diffusion de la mécanique quantique en France, thèse de doctorat, université Lyon 1, 2012.

#Jean Mariani Physicist #quantum mechanics #quantum physics #albert einstein #unified theory #institute of advanced study

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westerlyroleplay · 1 year

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NAME: Aspen Keller GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis man / He/Him AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 31 years old / May 21st HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, NY TIME IN WESTERLY: 6 years RESIDENCE: Watch Hill OCCUPATION: Novelist

MY LOVE SHOULD BE CELEBRATED, BUT YOU —— tolerate it.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic violence, age gap relationship and gaslighting.

When a twenty-six year old neighbor moved into Watch Hill, some families were weary of a new generation imposing on their unspoken morals. However, the family that came along with him fit perfectly. Two children and a renowned publisher as a mother to ensure the tight frame of the neighborhood's expectation dissipated all weariness. The boticcino tile and crown molding would hold the couple together, too. It made it easier to instill the facade that their love was built on more than a waning vow, false security, and a need to cover their mess because pastels stained with ease.

That twenty-six year old is often forgotten, though. Aspen Keller sits in the Rhode Island home on the balcony that faces the yard and pool, dressed in linen, with no more than the crackle of a lighter and a hidden cigarette alongside the clicking of keys. His haven has made him a recluse since the day he moved in under the guise that his wife would make a move devoted to creating a haven for his creative mind. It would take him six years to realize the doors were no more than the gilded gates of a cage.

Aspen came from the bustling pace of Brooklyn, New York with a twenty-seven minute subway ride to NYU's campus. There his work in literature and storytelling capture not just the interest but the heart of a professor. He was guided into the menagerie of a friend of his teacher's looking for new voices, and it was her who would carefully pave his path to success as a romance novelist. Hidden desires and sweet nothings inspired the tales he wished he could share with her but never said aloud, until his first book was sold his senior year of college and in turn an engagement ring bought. It was all heart and no thought, and both were captivated by the heavy hand of heart over mind. She took his hand and guided him to every right turn, steady and eager, to a career she wished she could have. Her pride was stronger than her pride until she believed he was getting lost in the glamour of it all. Her wisdom tasted like poison in his mouth as he had doubts of her guidance, leading to strain until his career took a fracture he needed her to fix. Upon it, she placed another crack to gain control. Their first child took his attention and his muse, but it would take more for him to part ways with the ideal concept of love in his head. Another babe didn't fix their relationship, but it did bind Aspen to their home while his wife went off with her career.

Aspen began to believe that they were devoted to their professions more than each other, and in the thought of divorce, his wife made a desperate move. She gave him every turn of her head and every spark in her eye in hopes of gaining his favor again. He felt not like her prodigy, but almost her muse as much as she used to be his. She placed him on a pedestal and relocated their family to Westerly in hopes of instilling an order she could knot the way she wanted. Her love began to wither in the name of her rule. The smiles she kissed on to his lips became pinched between her fingers. She slowly shackled him to the house in the name of giving him the power to write his novels, though it was no more than entrapment. Aspen lost all of his self fortune in her abandonment of his dreams and was completely reliant to her, and in her debt. He lives under her thumb, with the maroon hues to prove it, but he believes this is what must stay away from chapter books and loose lips.

It's only in the last year that he's found love outside of his marriage that is sweeter than anything he's had with her. He is weaving the faith that despite all the comfort and luxuries she's awarded him, could he be worth more? The guilt still stings at not thinking what she's given him is enough, but the love is empty and it burns in a way that leaves a scar. He's living for the hope that he can be saved by the perfect kiss, even if he has to make his being the right shape to fit hers.

Portrayed by DYLAN O’BRIEN, written by DANII.

#t.#m.#em.#dylan o'brien #aspen keller #danii #tolerate it

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newt-and-salamander · 3 years

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Okay, so here are my thoughts on Secrets of Dumbledore based on what we recently learned from the synopsis:

Professor Albus Dumbledore knows the powerful Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald is moving to seize control of the wizarding world. Unable to stop him alone, he entrusts Magizoologist Newt Scamander to lead an intrepid team of wizards, witches and one brave Muggle baker on a dangerous mission, where they encounter old and new beasts and clash with Grindelwald's growing legion of followers. But with the stakes so high, how long can Dumbledore remain on the sidelines?

First of all: “Secrets of Dumbledore” is a quite boring name (I mean a few people even (almost) guessed it before) but I think it’s practical. It can refer (obviously) to Albus, but also to Credence/Aurelius, Aberforth, Ariana, … and whoever might be a secret Dumbledore. (Jacob? Picket?!? Everyone, probably.) Taking into account the author’s ominous “answers are given” she once said about FB3, I believe in the end we will know how exactly Credence, Dumbledore and Grindelwald are connected.

Also, I wonder how much the film really will be about Dumbledore? “Crimes of Grindelwald” wasn’t really about Grindelwald after all. I imagine it to be about Dumbledore and his family in the beginning, probably some flashbacks, then he gives Newt some kind of a mission. The main part of the film could be about Newt and his team trying to accomplish that mission, and in the end (maybe when Newt fights his duel with Grindelwald), Dumbledore realises that not everything turned out as he planned (or did it?) and decides that “the stakes are too high to remain on the sidelines”. The question is if he will be able to openly move against Grindelwald, that depends on the blood pact and maybe on whether Newt is able to accomplish his mission. Or maybe, Grindelwald fighting Newt already counts as moving against Dumbledore so he will break the blood pact first? But I rather think, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald are too smart to break the pact on accident – we don’t know of the consequences they would have to face if they violated the pact, but I don’t doubt they would be terrible.

What made me frown at first, but happy after I gave it some more thought, was the idea of Newt as a team leader. Because – I don’t really see him as a leader. He’s a private and quiet person. But (and this is the good part) he is also an absolute expert for magical beasts. So, if he is to lead a team, it is certainly because of something beast-related! And I love this possibility. It’s “fantastic beasts” after all, and in my opinion, the creatures are the most magical part of the films!

What are Newt and his team doing on their journey? I can see two main possibilities here: a) looking for a way to destroy the blood pact, b) looking for a way to properly separate an Obscurus from its host. A blood pact seems to be a very powerful kind of magical bond/object, but let’s not forget that Harry managed to destroy a Horkrux with a Basilisk’s fang – so maybe there are other beasts with strong curse-breaking abilities? As for the Obscurus, we know that Newt has tried before with a girl, but she died. We just don’t know if this was because he hadn’t perfectionated the spell yet, or if he just came too late to save her.

So, who is on the team? Jacob for sure, I don’t know another brave Muggle baker. I’m also sure Bunty will come along as it was said that she will be much more important in this film, and she also is a beast expert. Tina? Hopefully! Nagini and Yusuf Kama? Probably, because otherwise, what would be their purpose (sorry)? Theseus? Nah, he’s a ministry man, I suppose he will concentrate on politics. (And I can’t really see him being bossed around by his little brother. :D But it would be lots of fun. Maybe he will be on the Berlin part of the mission because I don’t imagine lots of creatures living there.) Then we have the ominous Eulalie Hicks who has to fit in somehow, but we don’t know enough about her at this point to know whether she will rather accompany Newt or maybe will be more of a kind of advisor for Dumbledore. And, of course, I wonder if we will see Flamel again? He’s an alchemist, so maybe he has some ideas about how to destroy a blood pact.

Regarding “old and new beasts”, we will certainly see Pickett and the Niffler (they are just too popular now and can’t be left out. Also, I’m rather sure Newt won’t go anywhere without Pickett. The Niffler has proven to be rather useful, especially now that he can track Tina’s footsteps, hehe. Okay, stealing the blood pact also was rather useful I admit). I wonder if we might also see Frank again, maybe connected to Eulalie. I really hope to see the Zouwu, I just loved her and maybe that’s (part of) the reason for a trip to China? As for new beasts… I have no idea and I doubt that my current copy of Mr Newt Scamander’s book will be a great help because some of the creatures weren’t featured in it before they appeared on screen. But I’m sure we will see a lot of the Phoenix (Fawkes?) because it/he is clearly connected to the Dumbledores. And what about the Kelpie? It still appears a little strange to me that Newt’s scene with it in CoG wasn’t cut for time as it has no connection to the plot - unless it has and we just have to find out.

It is also mentioned that Newt and his team will clash with Grindelwald’s followers. It’s obvious that this will involve Credence who is going to have a scene with Dumbledore (I think Jude Law said something like that, about having a scene with Ezra set in Berlin?). I also really hope we will see a lot of Queenie and learn more about her motivation because although we were shown her reasons to join Grindelwald in CoG, it didn’t really convince me. I especially hope for a scene with her and Tina, but… well, let’s just hope, okay? Another one of Grindelwald’s followers who I think has a very interesting role is Grimmson. He’s an undercover spy (so there’s a lot of potential for dramatic scenes where he turns out to be a traitor and turns against the ministry) and also it’s implied that he and Newt have some kind of a backstory (although that also wasn’t too clear in the film, but you could learn from the script that he hunts down magical creatures – and that’s most likely the reason why Newt and he hate each other, although it’s possible they had some more personal connection in the past… maybe fought together in the war or worked at the Ministry and were both disgusted by the other’s methods). I personally think he would be a great antagonist for Newt because their hatred for each other is so personal and natural, maybe Newts has a stronger dislike for him than for Grindelwald (much like Harry hated Snape more than Voldemort). But well, we know that in the end it will be Newt against Grindelwald…

…and that’s a point that worries me. Newt is astonishingly capable of getting himself out of dangerous situations with the help of his beasts, and he has already once defeated Grindelwald together with Tina, the Swooping Evil, and all of MACUSA’s Aurors. If this epic battle scene in the end is a 1:1 Newt against Grindelwald I see… well I don’t really see a way Newt could possibly win this fight. He’s clearly a really capable wizard but duelling is not his main interest. It might be enough to trick traffickers and escape, but we have already seen him in the NY underground fighting Grindelwald and I don’t know how it would have ended for him if Credence and Tina hadn’t interrupted the scene. Let’s see how he get’s out of the situation this time (and nope, please don’t let anybody sacrifice him- or herself for Newt, I want them all to be happy and alive… but if somebody is going to die for Newt I assume it’s either Bunty or Theseus. But, as I just said, this is definitely not going to happen because I love them all very much, so there’s no need to discuss that). I just hope the film doesn’t end with a cliff-hanger like Newt being defeated and taken hostage… because I cannot possibly wait at least another two years to learn how they solve this. Also, I have no idea if – from a marketing point of view – that would be a very good or a very bad idea. I think everyone just wants to see Newt happily together with Tina at the end of the 3rdfilm, but… who knows.

Anyway, these are my thoughts on Secrets of Dumbledore up to this point. I am super excited just thinking about the fact that we will get photos and a trailer soon!

#fantastic beasts the secrets of dumbledore #fantastic beasts 3 #fantastic beasts theory #fbtsod #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #tina goldstein #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #jacob kowalski #queenie goldstein #theseus scamander #bunty

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imaginationintowords · 3 years

Text

Folklore [song series]

my tears ricochet

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death, and funeral]

word count: 4829

[a/n: sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy. I thought once I was done for the semester I would have a lot more time to work on my stories, but if anything my summer break has been more hectic. Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean I haven't been working on them. Just know that I am working on the new chapters for this and for TKWBA, just need a bit of patience from you all. Also thank-you for the continue love and support on all my work]

Series Masterlist

Tag list info here [if you want to be tagged please read this]

Age: 21

Year: Sep. 2015

Location: Brooklyn, NY & Stanford, CA

Elizabeth was sat at her desk doing her homework. She was anxiously waiting for Steve's call about the baby arriving. He had called her two hours prior to let her know that Natasha had gone into labor, and they were at the hospital. Steve told her that he'd call her as soon as he heard the news. She tried her hardest to focus on her homework, but she found herself constantly checking her phone for any updates.

Suddenly her phone started going off. She instantly picked it up and answered the call.

"Is the baby here?" She immediately asked.

"Liz," Steve choked out.

"Steve, what's wrong?" She could hear the distress in his voice.

"Natasha, she," he tried to say but the words got caught in his throat, and she could hear the soft cries.

"Steve, breathe," she tries to calm him down the best she could without actually physically being with him.

Elizabeth was simultaneously trying to keep herself calm, and not rush into any assumptions.

"She died," he said after calming himself down enough to tell her what happened.

"She died?"

"I guess there were complications, he tells her, still unsure of what exactly happened.

Steve hadn't thought to ask further into what exactly happened when Bucky's mom called to tell him the devastating news. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was telling him. He just never imagined that this would be the outcome of his best friend welcoming his first child into the world.

Steve clears his throat trying to force the lump back down.

"I'm catching the next flight out to New York," he tells Elizabeth, "I just gotta be there for Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," she says, completely understanding.

"I know you can't exactly fly out now, without letting your professors know, so as soon as I find out all the funeral," his throat catches at the word, he takes a small breath, "all the funeral information I'll let you know."

"Okay that works," she agrees.

"Okay. I haven't to pack real quick and get to the airport within the next hour," he tells her.

"Okay, I'll let you go."

"Wait, Steve," she calls out before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she says with a shaky voice.

"I love you too, so much," he says, "I'll text you when I board the plane."

After one final goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

The flight seemed like Steve's longest one he's ever been on. As soon as he landed he quickly grabbed his carry on, the only thing aside from his backpack that he brought with him. Elizabeth had messaged him letting him know that she could bring more of his stuff once she flies out.

Steve made his way out of the airport to find his mom waiting for him by her car. He quickly made his way towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

On the drive to Bucky's apartment Steve sent Liz a text letting her know he landed. He then called Bucky's mom to let her know he was on the way.

"Thank-you for coming out Steve," Winnie thanks him, "The baby is just about to get discharged, we should be at the apartment before you get there."

"Of course, I'll see you guys soon," he says hanging up the phone.

Steve then sends a quick email to his boss and professors explains his absence and why he'll most likely be gone for a couple of weeks.

An hour later Steve's mom was stopping outside of Bucky's building.

"Let them know I'm here if they need anything," his mom tells him before he exists the car, "I'll come back at noon with lunch for everyone."

"Thanks Mom," he says leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Steve exists the car leaving his bags with his mom. He takes one final breath before walking to the front doors. Steve presses the call button for Bucky's apartment and was immediately buzzed in.

As soon as he reaches Bucky's door, he knocks quietly. The door opens and he's welcomed by Rebecca. He takes in the sullen face on the teenage girl.

"Hey Bec," he says.

"Hi," she quietly says, as they hug each other in the door way.

When they pull apart she steps aside letting him inside.

"It's just my parents and I here. Bucky didn't want to deal with a lot of people right now," she explains to Steve.

"Steve," he hears from his left, Keith, Bucky's stepdad makes his way out of the small kitchenette over to him, and embracing him, "Thank-you so much for coming. We know you're a very busy person."

Before Steve could respond Bucky's mom Winnie walks into the living room.

"Oh Steve," she immediately wraps her arms around him.

"Thank-you so much for coming on such a short notice," she says. Steve could hear the shakiness in her voice. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. No doubt the last 12 hours being the most stressful and emotional she's ever been.

"There's no need to thank me. This is where I need to be," he tells them.

"Let us at least pay you back for the flight," Keith says.

"No, don't worry about that," Steve waves him off, "I had a lot of miles that needed to be used."

"Well, thank-you again," Keith nods his head, understanding where Steve was coming from.

"You can go on ahead Steve. Bucky is waiting for you in the nursery," Winnie tells him, giving him an assuring nod, he nods back making his way towards the nursery.

The short walk seemed like it was much longer. Steve has never felt so nervous in his life. When he approaches the closed door, he softly knocks on it.

"Come in," Bucky calls from inside.

Steve walks in, closing the door behind him. He's immediately greeted by Bucky sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeding his newborn daughter.

"Hey," Steve softly says, not sure what to say.

"Hey," Bucky greeted Steve with a sad smile.

It had been 12 hours later and it still didn't feel real to Bucky. The hospital had even offered the chance for him and Poppy to stay a couple of days, but all Bucky wanted to do was to go home and get away from the hospital. But now being back in the apartment without Natasha was surreal. He was trying his best to keep it all in, at least while the baby is awake and needs him.

He was determined in being the one that cared for her, even when his mom offered to take care of her for a few hours while he gets some rest. He assured her that he needed to do this. He had to do it alone, because he knew that soon enough it would just be him and Poppy.

Bucky was very grateful when he heard Steve was flying out. He felt like Steve was the only one he could really talk to about everything going on.

Steve was still standing by the door, just watching his best friend be a dad for the first time. He had no idea what to say in this kind of situation. The words were caught in his throat the moment he actually saw Bucky.

"Thanks for coming," Bucky says breaking the silence. Steve immediately looks away from the baby to meet Bucky's eyes.

"You would've done the same thing," Steve says, "And like I've said before, I'll always be here for you."

"I don't care how far, I'll always be on that first flight to you," Steve continues, he glances down at the now sleepy baby, "You're my brother Buck."

There was a moment of silence between the young men. Both understanding what the other one means with such few words.

Steve watched as Bucky gently placed the sleepy baby on his shoulder to burp her.

"It suits you," Steve quietly remarks.

"What?" Bucky looked up at him confused.

"Fatherhood, it suits you," Steve says again, stepping closer to his friend.

"You think?" Bucky looks back down at the now sleeping baby.

"Yeah. I know it's only been less than a day, but you look natural. Make it look easy."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, getting up for the he chair and walking over to the crib to gently place Poppy in.

Steve walked over, standing next to Bucky, watching the little one sleep peacefully.

"What's her name?" Steve whispered, realizing that he hadn't found out what the name of the baby was.

"Poppy James Barnes," Bucky proudly says.

"That's cute," Steve commented, he placed his right hand on Bucky's left shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Bucky looked over at Steve and they both nodded their heads in agreement, before falling into an embrace.

"I am so sorry," Steve quietly says.

"It happened so quick, she barely even got to see the baby," Bucky quietly cried into Steve's shoulder, "I never even thought of this would be the outcome. I never imagined I'd be coming home solo with the baby."

Steve tightened his embrace on Bucky, just listening to his friend.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this Steve. I don't know how I'm going to raise her without her mom. I'm trying to keep it together to not worry my mom, but fuck Steve, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared I'll screw this all up. I'm scared I'll screw her up.

"I'm so scared Steve," Bucky cries.

"It's okay to be scared," Steve tries his best to comfort Bucky, "I'd be more concerned if you weren't scared. This is entirely new territory for you. You're raising a child, a child who unfortunately no longer has her mother. That alone is a fucking terrifying thing to go through.

"It's not going to be easy. There's no point in lying to you, and saying it will. You and I both that won't be the truth. But if there's anyone I know who could do this, it's you Buck. You're the strongest person I know. Whatever has happened before this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is that little girl. And I know damn well you're going to give her the best life she will ever have," Steve pulls away from Bucky and holds onto his shoulders.

"And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you, and now Poppy. You will never be alone. You'll always have someone to call, someone to help you. You're crazy to think we would ever leave you to do this alone. We're here, and we're not going anywhere. You and Poppy will never have to be alone. She might not have her mom, but she's got you, and I know damn well you won't ever let her wonder what being without one parent truly feels like.

"You've got this Buck," Steve assures him, "And we're here every step of the way."

"Thanks Steve," Bucky sniffles, wiping the tears away.

"No need to thank me," Steve smiles, "Now why don't you go take a nap. Get some rest. We're here if Poppy wakes up."

"Yeah I could use some sleep," Bucky yawns, his adrenaline from the last 12 hours fading away.

Steve walks Bucky to his bedroom and watches as he gets into his bed, and quickly falls asleep. He quietly closes the door behind him, with the baby monitor in one hand checking to make sure Poppy is still asleep.

He walks back into the living room, placing the monitor by the tv for everyone to see and hear.

"They're both asleep," Steve announces to the room.

"Oh thank goodness," Winnie sighs, "James hasn't taken a moment to rest since everything happened."

"Knowing Bucky, we'll probably have to be forcing him to rest for the next couple of weeks," Steve says.

"I just got off of the phone with Natasha's father," Keith said walking back inside the apartment.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"He said that the funeral is all up to us," Keith sighs, "Something about how Natasha made her own path with getting pregnant, and that once she left she was no longer his responsibility."

"He really said that?" Winnie asked mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Keith sighed, "I tried reasoning with him saying we would handle everything financially and he can come to the funeral but he said no."

"What kind of father doesn't show up to his own daughter's funeral," Winnie shakes her head in complete disbelief.

"Explains why Natasha was the way she was," Rebecca whispered, so that only Steve could hear her.

He reluctantly agrees.

Two weeks later

Elizabeth was helping Steve with his tie in his childhood bedroom. She had flown in yesterday for today's funeral services. Elizabeth had gotten in late last night, so she still hasn't seen Bucky or Poppy yet. She was a let to get a week off of work and her professors gave her an extension on her assignments when she explained to them what happened.

"I still can't believe Natasha's dad isn't going," she says as she straightens out Steve's tie.

"Bucky's mom is still holding out hope that he shows up," Steve says.

"What does Bucky think of it all?" Elizabeth asks.

"He's not worrying about it," Steve explains, looking over himself in the mirror, "His only concern right now is Poppy and only Poppy. If Nat's dad shows up then he does. But as of now Bucky has made the decision that he will not be in Poppy's life. Not until he proves himself."

"That's very mature," she says grabbing her purse.

"This Buck is like a whole new one you've never seen before. Fatherhood has made him a thousand times more grown up these last couple of weeks."

"That's good."

"Ready to go?" Steve asked her, grabbing the keys to his mom's car.

"Yup," Elizabeth says following Steve out.

Bucky had asked Steve to pick him and Poppy up, and Steve had of course agreed.

They arrived to Bucky's apartment in fifteen minutes. Walking up to Bucky's door they could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside. Steve used the key Bucky gave him to let himself and Elizabeth in.

As soon as they walked in they were greeted by the sounds of a baby crying.

"Buck?" Steve called out.

"We're in here," he calls from the nursery.

They go to the nursery to find Bucky looking frazzled while trying to change Poppy's diaper.

"I'm so sorry. I'm running so behind," Bucky tells them, glancing over his shoulder quickly,

"Poppy didn't sleep well last night. And nothing I've tried has been working."

"It's okay Buck, just take your time," Steve calmly says.

"I still need to shower, shave, and get dressed," Bucky rambles, "She's going to need another change of clothes because she spat all over herself, and my mom only bought this one outfit for today."

"Hey Bucky, calm down," Elizabeth calmly spoke up, placing her hand on his back, "Take a breath."

Bucky felt the warmth and comfort from Liz's touch. He listens to what she says and takes a deep breath.

"Okay good," she says, "now you go get ready. Steve and I got this."

"Okay," he nods his head, handing the baby over to Elizabeth, "thank-you."

"Of course," she softly smiles at him, "now go get ready."

Bucky quickly makes his way out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Elizabeth looks down at the small baby in her arms. She could see so much of Bucky in the baby with hints of Natasha. It was a little strange for her to be holding Bucky's baby and it not being her baby as well. Not that she ever wanted to get back together with Bucky, because she didn't. There was just a little voice in her head, that of her teenage self, saying how it was supposed to be them, doing this together.

She quickly shut the voice down.

Elizabeth was incredibly sympathetic of Bucky's situation. All she wanted to do was be there for him, as a friend. She wanted Bucky to succeed as a father, and she would do what she could to make that happen.

Steve silently watched Elizabeth watching Poppy. He couldn't really read her expression. He hates to admit it to himself, especially with everything going on, but he was slightly worried about how Liz would react to all of this. He had faith in their relationship, of course he trusted her immensely. But he still couldn't help but feel like she might decide to leave him for Bucky. Elizabeth turned around to see Steve looking at her with a distant look in his eyes.

"You good?" She gently asked, breaking him from his self-destructive thoughts.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah," she nods her head, handing the baby over to him, "I'm going to try and find her a new outfit.

"Okay," Steve says sitting down with the baby.

"I love you," Liz quietly says to Steve, knowing what could possibly going through his mind, if hers was also wandering.

"I love you," Steve replies back, finding himself relaxing at just hearing those three words, any doubt slipping away.

30 minutes later Bucky was ready to go. He walked out to the living room where he found Steve and Elizabeth sitting with each other holding the baby. He paused for a moment taking in the scene in front of him. He felt a sense of warmth and low flow through him as his closest friends admire his daughter. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision in what he would tell them next.

Steve glanced up to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the hallway.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you two something before we go," Bucky says walking over and sitting on a chair next to the couch.

"Sure, what's up?" Steve leans forward, leaning on his knees, giving Bucky his full attention.

Elizabeth tears her eyes away from Poppy to also give Bucky her full attention. She smiles at him, letting him know he could continue on.

"I first and foremost just want to thank you Steve, for what probably is the hundredth time," Bucky says, "I know you have a lot going on with work and school. So I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Poppy. And you too Elizabeth, I know you're incredibly busy especially with law school prep. And with everything that's happened between-"

"Don't," she stopped him, "What's past is past."

"Well anyways, thank-you," Bucky says, "Now here comes what I wanted to ask you two. There's no other two people I wouldn't trust more with Poppy. So I wanted to ask if you would be her godparents?"

"Really?" Elizabeth asked taken back by Bucky's request.

"Yes," he nods his head, "There's no one else I wouldn't trust with her if anything happens. It'll help me sleep better knowing she'll have two people who'll love her like I would. Two people who have so much love between them, that I know will always be together."

Both Steve and Elizabeth were taken back by Bucky's last statement. They knew Bucky had accepted their relationship, but to actually have him not only say it out loud but to practically give them his blessing, it meant the world to the couple.

Steve and Elizabeth both share a look with tears glistening in their eyes. Elizabeth nods her head.

Steve turns back to Bucky, "We'd be honored to be Poppy's godparents."

Elizabeth and Steve stood up to hug Bucky. All filled with a wide range of emotions. Bucky felt a huge sense of comfort after asking Liz and Steve to be Poppy's godparents. He knew he made the right decision, and he knew he could now sleep better at night knowing his daughter would be taken care of. And by two people he knows can love her the way he does.

After what happened with Natasha, Bucky just wanted to make sure Poppy would be taken care of. If she couldn't have her parents, then she would have the closest thing to having parents. And Bucky knows Steve and Elizabeth would be amazing parents.

That alone allowed him to be at peace for whatever may happen.

Arriving to the funeral location Bucky felt his nerves start to spike. He sat in the backseat looking out the window at the familiar faces walking into the chapel.

"You okay?" Elizabeth asked turning in her seat, after Steve parked the car.

"I don't know if I can do this," he mutters, glancing towards the sleeping baby in the car seat next to him.

"We'll be right next to you along the entire way," Liz calmly says.

"If you feel too overwhelmed we'll leave whenever you want," Steve tells him, "We won't stay if you absolutely can't handle it. No one will hold it against you."

"Okay," Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Stay here, I'll get the stroller out," Steve says, getting out of the car.

"No one is expecting you to be brave, Buck," Elizabeth says, "You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to show emotions."

He nods his head, taking in what she's telling him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace. Clutching onto it as if his life depended on it.

Elizabeth catches the small 'N' on it, realizing that that was the necklace Natasha wore everyday since she was 13.

Bucky takes one final deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay, I'm ready," he tells her.

"Okay, let's do this."

Bucky was grateful that they arrived only minutes before the service started. Everyone was already seated in the pews.

He slowly walked down the aisle pushing the stroller, Steve and Elizabeth walking right behind him.

Bucky tried his best to avoid any eye contact with everyone. He couldn't bare to look at the pity in their eyes.

He caught sight of his family siting in the second row. He also noticed a man sitting alone in the first row.

He instantly knew who it was.

Once Bucky reached the first row, the man made to movement to greet Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Mr. Romanoff."

The older man looked over at Bucky, then at the stroller.

"James," he stiffly said, turning his attention back to the front.

Bucky awkwardly sat down placing the stroller next to his legs, away from Natasha's father, while Steve and Elizabeth sat next to Bucky.

The service was going smoothly up until the priest announced that Natasha's father would be making a speech, catching everyone off guard.

Bucky looked at the older man as he walked up to the stand. He turned around to face his mom, "Did you know this?" he whispered.

"No I didn't," she shook her head.

Right as Mr. Romanoff was about to start speaking, Poppy began to cry. Bucky quickly went to get her out of the stroller, while Steve quickly went to grab a bottle to help him out.

As soon as the baby calmed down Mr. Romanoff began to speak.

"First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for coming," he begins, "I really appreciate it. Natasha would be eternally grateful for all of you."

Bucky started to get annoyed by the beginning of Mr. Romanoff's speech. As if the man didn't turn down the invitation for the last two weeks. Now he's trying to act like the perfect father, as if he didn't kick her out and cut off his pregnant daughter.

"Natasha was a kind hearted person. Only wanting the best for those closest to her. She was the most selfless person you would have ever met," he continued on with his speech.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be confused by Mr. Romanoff's speech. She hated thinking ill of the dead, but that man had no idea who his daughter truly was.

"Natasha was so smart, earning her way into Yale. She was only months away from graduating. I was so incredibly proud of her. If only we would've gotten the opportunity to watch her walk across the stage.

"Other than leaving an everlasting impression on all of us, she also left behind a part of her. Her last moments on Earth was spent bringing in another Romanoff," he says.

Bucky's head snapped up to Mr. Romanoff, then towards Steve.

"Romanoff?" Bucky whispered, "This man has the fucking nerve."

"Ignore him," Steve whispered back, trying to calm Bucky down, "He's just saying all of this to make himself look good."

"Natasha brought her daughter into the world," Mr. Romanoff continued, forcing fake tears to fall, "I remember being by her side as she was in labor."

Bucky clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to call Mr. Romanoff out on his lies.

"As she was dying," Mr. Romanoff paused for dramatic effect, "Her only request was to name her daughter after her."

Steve paled his hand on Bucky's shoulder, trying his best to calm him down. It was too late, Bucky was already placing Poppy in Steve's arms.

"What a fucking lie," Bucky stood up shouting at Mr. Romanoff, causing everyone to gasp.

"James," Mr. Romanoff said through gritted teeth, as a warning.

"How could you just lie to all these people?" Bucky shouted, "How could you lie as if you didn't disown Natasha months prior when she told you she was pregnant. Or when my parents kept inviting you to the funeral, you kept saying no and how Natasha's decisions led to their death. How dare you say you were in the delivery room. As if you didn't have her number blocked. My mom and I were there when things took a horrible turn. We were there when the doctor walked out and told us Natasha didn't make it. Not you! Us!

"Then you go on to make some shitty story about Nat's last words. Which is completely false. Natasha never wanted to name the baby after herself, you'd actually know that if you were actually present in her life. But you weren't. And you sure as hell will never be a part of your granddaughter's life."

Bucky turned to Steve and Liz, "Let's go."

They nodded their heads and helped put Poppy in the stroller. They followed Bucky as he walked out of the chapel.

After leaving the funeral services, Steve was able to calm Bucky down. Winnie had called Elizabeth to let her know that the burial services the next day were officially going to be private. Liz agreed that that'd be best for everyone involved. Especially with what happened during the funeral services.

The burial service was only attended by Bucky, and his family, along with Elizabeth and Steve.

Everything went along smoothly. Everyone giving Bucky the safe space to grieve.

After the burial, everyone gave Bucky a few moments alone at the grave site so he can say his final goodbyes.

"Hey Nat," he pauses taking a deep breath, "these last two weeks haven't been the easiest. But boy have they been amazing. I may be more exhausted than I've ever been, but boy is she worth it.

"She may only be two weeks but I can already tell she's going to be the most amazing person ever," he softly cries, "You would've loved her so much. But like I promised back at the hospital, she'll never not know who her mother was. I will always make sure she knows who you were. Always."

"Goodbye Natasha," he whispered, before walking away to join his family waiting.

Age: 26

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: 2020

"Daddy, what's this?" Poppy calls out to her father from his bedroom.

"What's what petal?" He asked walking into the room, finding her surrounded by boxes, as they prep for their move uptown.

"This," she holds up the small necklace with the 'N'.

Bucky kept that necklace in a small box in his nightstand. He kept it at the bottom of his nightstand for safe keepings. Planning on one day to give it to his daughter. He always planned to wait until she was 16, but he figures now is as good as ever.

"That was your mommy Natasha's," he said walking over to her, and sitting next to her on his bed, "She got it when she was 13, and wore it every day up until when she died."

"It's pretty," she says admiring it in her hands.

"It is isn't it," he smiles at his little girl, "It's now yours."

He grabs the necklace from her little hands. He unclasps it, then gently moves her dirty blonde hair to the side. He places the necklace around her neck, and clasps it shut.

"Thank-you daddy," she smiles brightly at her father, admiring the necklace that now lay on her chest.

Bucky smiled at his daughter, watching as she kept admiring the necklace. It was a little big on her, but he knew she would grow into it.

"Anything for you baby," he kisses the top of her head, "Anything."

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impossiblelibrary · 3 years

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Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

#queer eye #Queer eye Japan #original #rant

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

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Hi love! Merry Christmas! I hope you are having an amazing Christmas!

I was wondering if as a Christmas gift you could make a cherik rec of enemies to lovers and/or friends to lovers?

🎅🏻🎄✨

A very, very belated Christmas to you. I had a very nice (though a bit busy) Christmas. I’m so sorry that this took me this long to answer but I took extra care to make this list. There are a LOT of great fics out there with both of those themes. I’m sure that I’ve missed some excellent ones but I do have quite an extensive list for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers

Wasteland – FuryRed

Summary: After Shaw succeeded in his plan to unleash nuclear war, Erik could only watch in horror as the world completely fell apart. Atom bombs. Sentinels roaming the country. Mutants being rounded up and forced into death camps. These were dark days, indeed.

Countless lives were lost in the war that followed, until the remaining mutants and humans scattered across the land- each just waiting for an opportunity to eliminate the other side.

Erik was confident that the Brotherhood would emerge victorious, but what he hadn’t counted on was the human resistance acquiring a mutant as their leader- a telepath, who insisted that humanity and mutantkind could one day live in peace…

Few experience (what you really are) – flightingflame

Summary: Magneto despises the humans that experiment on and enslave his kind. Recaptured after escaping the lab where he spent his youth, he finds himself bought by a rich man whose household is full of mutants. But Charles is keeping secrets of his own, and while he’s a dangerous man, he’s a powerful one to have on your side.

Sink or Swim – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is a struggling single dad of three kids with a burning hatred for Sebastian Shaw, the man who wronged him years ago. He’s tried to move on with his life, but a run-in with Shaw’s rude, spoiled omega, Charles, drags up old anger.

When Charles ends up in the hospital after an accident, Erik goes to confront him only to find that Charles has amnesia. In the confusion, Charles mistakenly assumes that Erik is his mate.

Erik knows he should clear up the misunderstanding, but how can he pass up this perfect chance for a little revenge?

(An Overboard AU)

The Skin Outside Is Taking You For A Ride – blarfkey

Summary: The fights between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are legendary, and after four years Principal McTaggart is sick of it. After their most recent screaming match in debate club, Principal McTaggart gives Erik and Charles an ultimatum: they must help Raven work on the Senior play and the next fight that breaks out between them will result in expulsion.

Forced to be civil for the first time in their lives, Erik and Charles must reconcile their tumultuous rivalry with the new versions of each other they slowly discover.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Robbers – dsrobertson

Summary: 1933. Bank robber AU.

The Bureau of Investigation are after Public Enemy Number Two, bank robber Erik Lehnsherr. Charles Xavier is fiancé to Special Agent Moira MacTaggart. A closet homosexual, Charles visits the Manhattan pansy club scene and meets Max Eisenhardt. Only as time goes on, Max Eisenhardt turns out to be Erik Lehnsherr. Public Enemy Number Two.

Charles learns exactly what happens when you accidentally fall in love with a male bank robber in 1930s America.

Warning: Bring your tissues for this one.

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

For the Roses – Nausicaa (ignusphoenicis)

Summary: After an accident left him paralyzed below the waist, former elite track star Charles Xavier needs a new hobby. His longtime rival, the German runner Erik Lehnsherr, might just be that hobby.

Note: Unfinished but worth a read.

Friends to Lovers

Best-laid plans – ikeracity

Summary: Charles decides that the best way to confess his feelings to his best friend is to surprise Erik at his apartment, naked, wearing nothing but a bow. It's perhaps one of Charles's worst ideas--or his best.

For The Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Resolutions - Black_Betty

Summary: Charles ends the year with honesty and courage and by finally telling his best friend how he feels about him.

Or he would have, if Erik had bothered to show up.

Love Story – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Charles and Erik are best friends, until they're not. A love story in three parts.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

Made To Be Broken – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles makes a New Year's Resolution:

“No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.”

Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #earnestly answers #asks

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bookdragonlibrary · 3 years

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Shanghai theories and analysis

First, some info about Mandarin and Chinese languages. The letters/ideogrammes are the same across the whole country but are pronounced differently according to the language (Mandarin, Cantonese, etc.) so all of the Chinese languages can communicate through writing. Then even if the letters are the same in latin alphabet (the one used in a lot of European languages - English, French, Spanish, German, etc.), the meaning could be different with the four intonations in Mandarin (è é ē ě). For example ma could mean house, mummy or horse depending of the intonation used. That could explain why Marinette say something “weird” at the end: she didn’t use the right intonation for the word sister, jiějiě which looks/sounds thank you, xièxiè. By the way, I think the name of the Renlings are the animal’s name in Chinese.

It happens after the NY special since we saw a figurine of Jess transformed. So the time line is S3 > NY special > Shanghai special > S4 it seems. Edit: Thomas Astruc said it was an animation mistake and the figurine should have been Sparrow, not Eagle. Anyway it’s still weird: Marinette acts like pre S3 finale toward Adrien and Ladybug post S3 finale toward Chat noir. And in the Intro, the Miracle Box has the Ladybug shape like at the end of S3. And since Cash finishes in jail at the end of the special and he was in the NY one.

I hope he stays in jail because he knows who is Marinette’s uncle and where he lives so I hope he won’t use this information against her in the future...

Since Cash was in both specials, he might be there to steal the American miracle box just like he stole Fei’s bracelet.

So after the almost nuclear war in the NY special, we know now that Gabriel pays Cash to harass a man and might also have pay for a murder disguised in a fire accident... (except if his death was an accident during a criminal fire). But what was his plan 15 years ago (before/around Adrien’s birth)? We know he wanted the prodigious now to have more power to defeat Ladybug and Chat noir, but why 15 years ago? And how did he learn the existence of the holy grotto anyway? Could Audrey Bourgeois or Tomoe Tsurugi have told him? Did he force Nooroo to explain him? Is it the reason he wants Adrien to learn Mandarin? Because of this place and what happened in Tibet?

I just hope Gabriel has nothing to do with Fei being orphan and/or be presented to a poor and struggling school because she is also 15 years old, the time where he starts getting interested by that school. I made a joke theory about Fei having a red lock just like Nathalie but now what if? I know Nathalie seems more Caucasian but Fei could be biracial with more Asian features.

Cash is also the only person outside of Nathalie (and Leeri) to know Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth. But I doubt Gabriel bought the bracelet in person. But he sent Nathalie there so maybe he can make the connection.

I found Bastille (the parrot) really special. He’s pretty old for a grey parrot and he was pretty interested in Jess figurine who is a Miraculous holder. Is he something close to Meishi, the guardian of the prodigious? And why does he, a Chinese parrot, have a French name*? Plus the Cheng family has their own songs. So maybe they’re a big family, a clan or something...

*Bastille is a name known during the French revolution to be a jail where the nobles locked away the revolutionaries. The storm of the Bastille or Bastille day is often mistaken for the choice of the French National day but the real one was a year after, the Federation day, when the French people was united.

About Sabine’s backstory, it sadly something common for Asian people who immigrate in Europe, or at least in France from what I know. For example, during my studies we have one year two Tawaian exchanged students and they have to choose a French name... It really surprised me at the time and I didn’t understand since they were ready to learn a whole different language and we couldn’t make the effort to learn two names... I think it’s racist to expect more effort from people of color than white ones... This part was sadly realistic and can happen to Asian people.

So Sabine (Xia Ping) might have face racism when she comes to France and we don’t know why yet (maybe it was for Tom or she met him after). We already know it with her father-in-law and people ignorant of Chinese culture (like calling her Mme (madame) Dupain-Cheng instead of Mme Cheng). She must be a really strong mind to stay this nice and kind with all that! She’s one of the best mom in the series! (with Max’s mom in my opinion).

Since Adrien is now Marinette’s Chinese professor, I hope we will see a scene of it in S4 but I know I can dream.

I have the headcanon Wang Cheng will take care of Fei now :) Since she was the magical ingredient and she will teach the accordion to Wang!

Please correct me if I said something wrong about Mandarin and Chinese culture ><

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug shanghai #theory #my theory #headcanons #sabine cheng #wang cheng #fei #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #ml spoilers

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thestuckylibrary · 4 years

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Mods’ Reads: January 2020

Here’s the list of everything the Mods have read this past month!

Mod Blue

Sine Tactu by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 22,586 | M)

“Want me to help with this?” Steve says quietly, head about level with James’ stomach as he stares up at him, fingers reaching up for James’ fly, but James shakes his head.

“No,” he says, wets his lips - Steve is all skin and muscle and he’s totally naked and he’s right here and- “no, I’m.” He swallows hard. “I’m not getting naked. This is about you.”

Part 29 of Honey Honey

Propius by justanotherStonyfan (oneshot | 6,178 | E)

Steve comes home kicking snow off his shoes, although a lot of it’s gray colored, and he’s shivering. Despite that, his cheeks are bright with the cold and his smile is bright with affection, camera in hand.

“Hi!” he says on a breath, shoulders hunched to keep the cold air out of his collar, and James smiles, crosses the conversion to reach him, and grabs the trailing ends of Steve’s scarf to draw him down for a kiss hello. “Mh.”

James wrinkles his nose as Steve’s nose presses into his cheek.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he says, and Steve laughs softly.

“Yeah,” he says “That’s why I came back inside.”

Part 30 of Honey Honey

I Believe In Something More by cydonic (complete | 74,304 | M)

In April of 2014, two very important things happen: The Winter Soldier is prepped for a mission as part of Project Insight which never ends up happening, and Steve Rogers finds out his mother is dying.

In October of 2018, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers meet in the Sculpture Garden at UCLA. Bucky has spent the ensuing years building a life for himself, learning that he likes to study in the sunshine and build friendships with people who just think of him as ‘that nice guy who’s really smart’, not what he used to be. Steve has tried to make it in Brooklyn, but everything reminds him of Sarah. He needs a change of scenery, and following his childhood best friend Sam Wilson over to California seems to be the way to do it.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) by histoires_eternelles, musette22 (complete | 66,773 | E)

It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

darling heart, i loved you from the start (but that's no excuse for the state i'm in) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 19,725 | T)

“I thought you’d make a terrible Nazi but turns out you’d make a terrifying one instead.”

The year is 2012. Loki has vanished with the Tesseract, and Manhattan is a blazing wreck. A very tired Steve Rogers goes home and meets another very tired Steve Rogers.

Or, the one where Steve saves the mind stone for last and decides to fuck the timeline beyond all recognition, which regrettably involves crawling delicately up Hydra's asshole and less regrettably involves showering a very confused Bucky Barnes with affection.

Kissin' by the mistletoe (Love came to stay) by obsessivereader (oneshot | 4,949 | E)

“I told you,” Steve wheezes, as he tries to catch his breath. “Didn’t I fucking tell you we'd fall if you didn't quit pushing?”

He’d laugh if he had any air left in his lungs. Instead, all he can do is stare up at Bucky as the sound of his carefree laugh winds its way around Steve’s heart. He barely even registers the cold seeping in through his jacket and jeans as he lies in the snow, attention catching instead on the snowflake clinging to Bucky’s lashes. Were Bucky’s eyes always that luminous? The crinkles around his eyes so endearing? Were his lips always that pink?

Bucky’s laugh dies away at Steve’s continued silence. A strange expression settles on his face, like he’s looking into the face of a stranger for the first time, studying and cataloging Steve’s features one by one—eyes, nose, mouth.

Based on this tweet, which has, sadly, been deleted: FUFJFJ ITS SNOWING A LOT IN NY RN AND IM WALKING HOME AND THESE GUYS ARE LIKE PUSHING EACH OTHER IN THE STREET AND ONE GUY GOES “YOU ASSHOLE STOP PUSHING ME IM GONNA FALL” AND THE OTHER GUY WAS LIKE “.... For Me?” and the other guy was like bro... no fuck you” AND THEY BOTH FELL

Part 2 of Happy Steve Bingo!

thot through the heart (and you're to blame) by Deisderium (complete | 9,899 | E)

"You look like shit," Steve says, and that breaks the spell a little because fuck you, Steve, he looks good. Steve's nostrils flare. "Is that—is that blood on your mouth?"

Oh, fuck. Bucky needs to work on not being a sloppy eater. He wipes his mouth hastily, and without thinking, licks his hand clean. Steve stares.

In which Bucky is a baby vampire, a disaster, out to have a good time, and hopelessly in love with his roomate; and in which Steve has a few secrets of his own.

Part 1 of food for thot

Scratched Ragged and Rubbed Raw by cheesethesecond (oneshot | 3,788 | T)

“How are you gonna sleep tonight,” Bucky asked, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes, “knowing that a guy who tried to kill you is sleeping in the next room?”

“Like a baby,” Steve said.

This Lonely Hour Before Daybreak by cheesethesecond (oneshot | 2,912 | T)

Steve knew there would be good days and bad days. That’s how this sort of thing worked.

Except sometimes, the bad days go like this.

Something Great by dragongirlG (oneshot | 1,485 | G)

The Soldier knows he is not Bucky Barnes, but he still seeks out Steve Rogers after the helicarriers fall, inexplicably craving Rogers' affection. Rogers gives it. (Basically, the Winter Soldier wants a hug. Steve gives him that and a little more.)

Based on a prompt from withinmelove: I have a love for Winter Soldier as his own person so Winter Soldier and Steve cuddling is my prompt! Maybe WS is touch starved and is really eager to be affectionate with Steve who is happy to be close and tender with him.

The Right Partner* by LeeHan (oneshot | 41,651 | E) *graphic violence

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Bucky said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “but I believe I was promised a mocha.”

When he turned to look at Steve there was laughter in his eyes and a touch of heat in his smile.

Dating a civilian was always risky. Luckily, Bucky seemed like a nice, genuine guy and Steve knew he could gently reject him with the smallest shrug and that Bucky would accept his decision easily. It was the smart thing to do.

“Don’t forget the croissant.”

—

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

Pedantic Affectations by fannishlove, relenafanel (complete | 15,858 | M)

Steve Rogers: khaki pants and ugly tweed wearing art history professor specializing in historical queer art (by day). Is actually Captain America, vigilante and the bane of Detective Barnes’s existence (by night).

Detective Bucky Barnes: A very clever cop who suspects something is up with Steve. Is frustrated that Captain America exists and is dedicated to finding him because he loves a good puzzle.

So, how does Steve convince Bucky that he's too boring to be Captain America? Go on a date with him.

(Steve is kind of really, really bad at this secret identity thing)

The Comfort in Certainty by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 20,554 | E)

"You were right when you said we need to talk," Steve says softly ... "Is there anything you want to say first?"

... James can't stand the suspense. If it's going to happen, if he's going to do it, James wants that bandaid ripped off now.

"Is this a breakup talk?" he says, and his wishes his voice would be stronger but he’s almost glad that it’s not.

Steve takes a deep breath in through his nose.

Part 31 of Honey Honey

Honeypot by cleo4u2, xantissa (complete | 133,204 | E)

Preconditions: One Sasha Marozow - internationally renowned assassin for hire, known as the Winter Soldier, ex-Hydra operative freelancing for the last five years; One Steve Rogers, Captain America - recently defrosted national hero and Avenger; One assassination contract; One set-up known in the intelligence community as the “honeytrap”.

Expected Result: One Winter Soldier in custody, the name of his employer attained.

Actual result: Definitely not as expected.

Part 1 of Honeypot

Give Up the Ghost* by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 19,518 | E) *graphic violence

They were happy together and the year had been good for them. They thought nothing could tear them apart. They were wrong.

Part 2 of Honeypot

i'm a believer (got a fever running through my bones) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 16,742 | E)

Everyone knows Captain America is an alpha. His tragic romance with Howard Stark is as popular a topic for movies and academic papers as his exploits in the war. Sure, Stark never said a word, and he clearly moved on, given that Tony Stark is currently alive. But even now, people like to gossip in hushed whispers about how sad it is that Howard Stark passed away a mere two years before they found the good Captain in the ice.

Bucky gets it, alright? Alpha/omega is the norm. Matches sanctioned by god or whatever bullshit your conservative Christian sect of the day likes to ramble about. It’s the twenty-first century, and the world still runs on a maddening policy of straight until proven otherwise. Thing is, Bucky has most certainly proven otherwise and has been doing so since he was a wee alpha panting after some knothead or the other because being queer didn’t magically make him any less stupid than your average horny teenager.

Bucky’s an alpha, Bucky likes alphas, and he’d love nothing more than to climb Steve Rogers like a goddamn monkey bar.

- Steve meets Bucky on a flaming helicarrier. It’s not the most romantic first meeting, what with the Nazis and the bullet wounds, but they make it work.

the jackpot question by biblionerd07 (series, ongoing | 16,126 | G-T)

Steve needs a ride home for Christmas. Bucky needs a passenger.

Winter Gorgon* by Quarra (complete | 74,067 | E) *graphic violence

For as long as Steve could remember, all he ever wanted to do was what was right. So when he hears about his father's old regiment being held as POW's by the Nazis, he's determined to put what Doctor Erskine gave him to good use and goes AWOL to rescue them.

But the 107th isn't all he finds there. Deep in the labs is a very unusual prisoner; one with snakes in his hair and a mask nailed to his face. Despite the man's monstrous visage, Steve can't in good conscience leave him to the enemy. That one act of mercy will change his life, the course of the war, and even the future of the world.

#mod picks

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newproletarians · 3 years

Text

new proletarians

Alright, so I’m feeling a few things. I’m angry and confused at the world and my place in it, and I don’t want to lose sight of my heart. The reason that’s even on the table is that I feel—in a very real, day-to-day sense—the urge to just let it callous over with grey boogers, or whatever callouses over the hearts of Squidwards everywhere. Regular old life can do that to a devastating degree, but so can the usual suspects—things like real trauma and tragedy. I’d like to say I’ve experienced a little of both at this point in my young life, but I’m still fighting the calcification of my heart. Let’s hope that in just throwing my brain at the proverbial wall, some things stick that are worth sticking. Maybe my clarity can also be yours, reader. Maybe we can snuggle up with ourselves tonight, content that we know what the fuck is going on in the world, and smugly abstain from that which our friends could never imagine abstaining from, and which we’ve known we’ve needed to abstain from for decades. Whatever. It’s wordy. It’s a fucking blog, future me. They’re supposed to contain words. Also, maybe, if I’m writing a blog where the over 50% of the audience is myself, writing it is supposed to feel at least a little similar to masturbating.

Where to begin? Well, let’s start with this: I am a college-educated youth who attended what’s commonly referred to as the best public university in the world. I received a rolled up piece of paper symbolizing a degree on a stage with other students and professors a year and a half ago. So it’s recent. And right off the bat, in my young adulthood, I have a chip on my shoulder, having that big qualifier of “public.” I went to the world’s fanciest college... for the proletariat. What does that mean? For me, this brings to mind a lot of issues having to do with the distribution of wealth in the United States, in addition to what the hell is going on economically here and in the world—but that’s something to get into later. The more pressing issue is what the hell the role of a college-educated young person is today. DFW pretty succinctly laid out an idea of what that could be in his famous address. His point was basically that college (specifically, a liberal arts education) gives you the critical thinking skills necessary to be able to get through life under capitalism (or whatever you want to call the current regime) without going crazy. I think we can do better than that. Also, fuck it, I’m giving myself permission to be temporarily pissed off, because fuck that, dude. I know that rage isn’t always an indicator of fruitful conversation, but I gotta let some steam out somewhere. I’m sure that it’ll only lead to me being better down the line. God—I am pissed. About how we’re deciding to go about talking through issues we’re having as a society (on Twitter, but also in comments sections and in NY Times articles). I have so much anger, I’m just now realizing, and I need to process it without stupidly burning myself out on it. It’s a subject for later, and not what we’re talking about right now. Right now, we’re talking about the role of the college-educated youth today. I think we’re getting somewhere, too. I don’t think the role of the college-educated youth in today’s scenario is to correct their friends and families, nor is it to Tweet about how embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible stupid people are—however embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible they may be. The role, to me, has to do with learning this stuff. Learning about systems of power, systems of abuse (many of which hum merrily along in universities—looking at you, Searl. [My anger, you guide me, but you also lead me astray]).Staying ON POINT. The way it has to do with these things is that today’s C.E.Y. needs to notice them, understand them, then DO something about them. There are, for instance, things that we learn about privilege and prejudice in university that we may be tempted to hurl at our elders back home as insults. Our jobs, as young students, are to be sexy, fashionable, charismatic stewards of the new age. Instead of yelling at our parents about being racist, we should, say, intervene in a subtle way that guides rather than punishes. That preserves trust and connection in relationships while simultaneously doing our best to right centuries-old wrongs. But this is about so much more than that. Our role is about how we conduct ourselves as the nations intelligentsia. But that’s a question. I’m not answering it here, try as I might. I still don’t know how I feel about it. It stretches into all corners of life, this role. For instance, into several things in my life I’m mad about.

For instance, I kind of hate my closest loved ones. Oops. That’s where I’m at. Am I supposed to ignore these feelings? They’re there, they’ve been there, and if I know anything about our brains, it’s that feelings shouldn’t be ignored. That’s what dumb ass patriarchs think. The funniest/saddest part of that is that they, said dumb asses, tell themselves that suppressing their feelings is the manly thing to do. It’s honestly just the cowardly thing to do. Men are so afraid of confronting their feelings that they would rather go their entire life wearing a life three sizes too small than mention a thing about it. Anyway. They’re conditioned to feel this way by their surroundings. This—this is a great point that I would love to be a major takeaway here. The thing about being educated is that you’re aware of systems, that systems need to be changed. Fault the people who can change the systems, if anyone, but really, even they are just products of the system. The good thing is that, as a powerless mass of atomized society, we have been created by these systems knowing SOME things that are wrong with it. Now we, the crumbs of dust living in and created by the gargantuan grandfather clock of life, have the sentience necessary to band together and make switch out some gears. Picture a big hand of made of dust, fixing the clock. That’s us. That’s what the role of college educated students is today. But that’s not so much the point of this paragraph, so much is the fact that I kind of hate my closest loved ones—which feels so good to say. My best friends, for instance, are really rough individuals. One is an obvious, obnoxiously insecure, compulsive liar. He’s not super tall and weighs almost 300 pounds. It’s not nice to say this stuff, but the purpose of life isn’t to be nice about everybody all the time in your own head, or on your own anonymous blog. He alienates everyone I bring him around with his bizarre persona. His insecurity is so deep that I shit you not, almost a majority of the interactions I’ve had with him would very reasonably get a “come on,” response from anyone. He has to create little talking points to make his life feel acceptable. He’s one of those people who constantly refers conversations back to their insecurities, and how they feel so secure about them, for this reason and that reason. It’s like, Christ, man. Come on. I feel a lot more ways about this, but I’m a little scared he’ll see this some day. I’m worried he’s going to die young, because he is extremely overweight. His doctor said he’s a few months away from a heart attack/stroke unless he takes immediate action, which it seemed like he was taking initially, but it doesn’t really seem like it anymore. I don’t know. The whole situation feels extremely choked by our inability to just communicate with our fucking words. And yes, I am sounding angry, I’m not actually this angry, but consider these the bubbles from a can of soda that’s been shaken. What will be left is the only-slightly-bubbled soda. That’ll come soon. For now, there are bubbles. New paragraph.

The point that I was trying and failing to get to in the previous paragraph is that I don’t like this guy. He has a lot of great qualities, and he’s certainly not a bad person to have in one’s life—as in, he’ll never cheat on his spouse, and he’ll always go the extra mile for his friends in a certain sense. But I don’t. I wish I could just talk to him about this weird, bizarre, fucking deal breaking shit, but I just can’t. Our communication is choked. I don’t think it’s his fault, though. I think it’s to do with overlapping systems of culture that make it difficult. Maybe. Maybe that’s not the point here, and the real point is just that I feel stuck in that situation. Moving on.

(TW: sexual assault)

Another friend is a fucking bona fide sexual assaulter. He practically got #metoo’d, on a personal level. His gf broke up with him because he sexually assaulted the female half of their best-friend-couple. He fingered her while sharing a bed with her and his gf, for some confusing reason. We talked about it and he gave me this wordy, bizarre, incongruent tale of what happened. It involved a LOT of details and qualifiers. When I talked to the dude half of the couple, the guy who was (and still is) with the woman who got assaulted, he said that my friend just straight up did a ton of nonconsensual shit. He also said that when his gf told other people, more people came forward saying this guy had been creepy to other women in their friend circle. This friend absolutely has a history of gaslighting and successfully avoiding trouble by forcing his way. I need to talk to him, but again, fucking choked. I have no ability to have any kind of “real talk” with him. We do not have a venue, and the prospect of confrontation is absolutely debilitating to the average WASP-y dude. Which brings us to our next situation.

I have a great friend I met in undergrad. She is very well-liked, and while I definitely don’t agree with everything she thinks, I really value her friendship. Her boyfriend is a fucking nightmare. Not really, honestly. There are actual nightmare boyfriends. This boyfriend is more of a waking nightmare. The kind of nightmare that becomes worse because it’s so hard to call out. It just keeps going. I’ve kept CLOSE track, and every SINGLE time I’ve hung out with them as a couple, this guy crosses the line. He says condescending, mean, weird, bizarre, shit that... there’s just no better way to say it than he crosses a line that normal people don’t cross. I haven’t counted, but we’ve probably hung out close to 30 times. Every time it happens, every time I give him another chance. I got a little counseling about this situation from a friend’s mom, just in casual conversation, and her advice was to figure out what in me upset me about this guy. At that point, I realized that what Eric Andre said is true: advice is stupid. Also, that I am not going to run my life based on what this person, who I previously looked up to in a god-like way when it came to relationships, says. I am going to figure it out on my own, because it seems like everybody’s solution to relationship issues is to never talk about them, or to have some kind of inner-peace solution that makes getting abused not suck so bad (looking at you, DFW). Ugh. Okay. Moving on, again. Because yep, there’s so, so much more. Again, asking questions here, not answering them.

Also, if you’re reading this and thinking “damn, bro, your life is boring,” that’s my point. This is just normal life. These are just normal people. This is the water we’re swimming in. It’s fucking tense, man. Living in the United States is tense.

I’m running out of steam at this point, but God damn it. My brothers are dick holes. And we’re great friends. They are guys who don’t ever cause a fuss, avoid confrontation at all costs, and are nothing but rewarded for it. Sometimes I think I have something to learn from them in that regard. But is that really the life we want to live? Just don’t communicate your issues? It’s just frustrating. They act superior to others, but are categorically unable to have an honest, undiplomatic conversation. They act superior to others, and are treated as superior. It feels a little like talking to robots, talking to them, decoding what they’re saying to ascertain how they may actually be feeling in a given moment. I have no idea how they feel about me. Or anything. I don’t even think they know or care. I think they just get by, and they’re rewarded for it.

Alright, moving right along. My dad. Damn do I want to not talk to that guy. I can’t talk about anything real with him. It’s like playing ping pong where the other person can only hit the ball if it goes where his paddle already is, and his paddle’s made out of glass.

This is a sample of some real life issues I am dealing with, spoken as honestly as possible, as is evidenced by the rampant spelling and grammatical errors. College works into this as the thing that has given me recourse for dealing with this stuff. As a college educated youth, I can approach life in an informed, good way. This is life. Etc.

What am I walking away with? Well, I now know for sure that I have a lot of shit to work through. MAYBE more than one Tumblr post. Also, I guess I am proving that people still Tumbl in 2021. I am starting to really understand what the questions I have are. I think part of my issue stems from some feeling of being “out of the loop,” or having some natural, in-set outrage about not understand what’s going on, which was founded by years of being the same height as the people around me’s knees, being the youngest person in my family. Everyone around me were skyscraper people with adult conversations happening way up there. It’s a little imposter syndrome, I think, too. It comes from being the youngest, I think, too. Mixed with a natural sensitivity that I’ve noticed people like me have.

My goal is to get better at living my life. That involves understanding how I want to live, it involves understanding what my values really are, thinking through them a little, and more. I think it’s really worth it. In the meantime, I am not a work in progress. I am a fucking careful, cool, bright, talented guy who is not perfect, but is working on it. And I am going to postpone making any big decisions about my personal life until I get some clarity.

I thought I’d get more to the subject of the new proletarians, which is something I was thinking about today when listening to Harmontown and asking myself questions about what college is for if it just makes us unemployable, debt-ridden, twitter douchers. Anyway. We’ll get to it again sometime.

This was nice. Let’s do this again sometime.

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Norton and Constantine Pt 2

The following are translated excerpts from the novels regarding Norton and Constantine. I’ve only included portions where Norton and Constantine are together and have omitted the rest.

Please enjoy.

-------------NORTON AND CONSTANTINE MEET-------------------

At the gate of the school, several students were armed with guns. When they heard the roar of the motorcycle, it was too late to get out of the way.

A dazzling silver light approached at an extremely high speed. It was a Harley motorcycle, twisting a thrilling lone line. It successfully dodged their barrage and cut past them. Some people say that the Mongols are a race that grows up on horseback, but this guy must have been born of a race that grows up on the back of a motorcycle.

“Hallelujah! God always favors the handsome!” No 13 shouted.

It went smoothly. After leaving the underground, he quickly found a silver Harley motorcycle, his dream ride! More incredibly, the key was still inserted in the ignition!

The unexpected mission is over here. He’ll go back and take his 5 million dollars and then he will go on vacation, roaming island nations with white sand, blue seas, and sexy ladies in the Pacific! No. 13 was full of joy. Turning his head though, he made a grimace. In the darkness behind him, those girls who were still wearing white dresses were holding high heels in one hand and strafing Uzis in the other but they couldn’t catch up to him.

He was suddenly shrouded by dazzling light from the side and he heard the roar of an engine.

“Ambush?” No 13 was shocked.

It was too late to dodge. He jumped off the motorcycle and relied on his excellent jumping ability to stop after hitting the ground, tumbling a few times in the dust.

The Harley turned into a silver light, flew over the roof of the car and hit the stone guardrail, flying off the cliff.

Lu Mingfei looked at the silver light in fear, jumped out of the car and walked to the victim’s side, rubbing his hands and speaking in plain English. “You’re not hurt are you? You came out so suddenly.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” Lu Mingfei thrust his hands in the air.

The dark barrel of the gun was pressed against Lu Mingfei’s head. No. 13 was furious.

“Stop him! He’s an intruder!” Gao Hu, a student, was running far behind.

“Are you here to ambush me?” No. 13 snarled viciously.

“I have nothing to do with them! I’m no one! I just drove out to buy hot dogs!”

He didn’t know if he could fool this “Dragon Clan” member, but the appearance of this “Dragon Clan” member was beyond his expectation.

Lu Mingfei could understand if he had a dragon’s blue face with double horns, fangs and whiskers. But this guy looks too standard, just like Lu Mingfei is a standard human. A smiling face, a Chinese-style of black hair, and a pair of iconic bushy eyebrows... he looked so familiar?

Lu Mingfei’s pupils dilated, “Hey, aren’t you Old Tang?”

No. 13 froze for a moment, “You mean... You’re the guy with the big bear face?”

Lu Mingfei used a bear with a big head as his icon in that StarCraft Group. ‘Old Tang’ is Lu Mingfei’s only friend from the US, except for classmates and professors such as Nono and Fingel. He didn’t know how many nights they blasted on the StarCraft map. When interviewing Cassell Academy, Old Tang also used videos to help him correct his oral English. Because he met Old Tang, Lu Mingfei felt that he’d found a friendly place on the US map -- Brooklyn, NY

How could he meet Old Tang here? Why was he still holding a gun to him? Didn’t Old Tang live off government benefits in Brooklyn? Didn’t he say he wanted to tour the US with him on a Greyhound bus? The world turned upside down in Lu Mingfei’s mind.

“Acquaintances?” Nono also raised her hands in the car next to him.

“Old Tang... I am the bigheaded bear... and no, I am Mingming... Don’t shoot. Why are you here?” Lu Mingfei was shouting. “Mingming” was his ID in the group.

“I’ll tell you later, I’ll tell you later! I’m just here to do some work... Now that the work is over, I have to hurry and get out of here.” Old Tang looked over Lu Mingfei’s shoulders and looked at the Bugatti Veyron behind him again. He looked up and down at Nono. “Hey! Hot girl! Let me use the car!”

“You already borrowed my boyfriend’s Harley.” Nono said. At the moment of the crash, she saw that Caesar’s favorite motorcycle was flying over her head.

Old Tang looked up and down at Lu Mingfei, “I underestimated you. I never thought that you would get a beautiful girl right after you went abroad. And not just a Bugatti Veyron but also Harley motorcycles? What world am I in?”

“That’s exactly what I want to ask!” Lu Mingfei held his hands up. “I’ll let you take the car. No need to return it!”

“I have to take you and your hot girl hostage!” Old Tang dragged Lu Mingfei to the Bugatti.

“Drive!” He turned his head and shouted at Nono.

“Old Tang, what are you going to do? Would you like to talk about friendship?” Lu Mingfei said loudly.

“Don’t talk nonsense! Just pretend to go down the mountain and let it go.” Old Tang said in a low voice, and shouted at the approaching soldiers, “Get any closer and I’ll kill him!”

He tried his best to put on a ferocious expression. His genteel face was sometimes his weakness. Often people thought he was not threatening but joking. But this time, he felt that his aura had taken effect, and the girls in white skirts with guns suddenly stopped, their expressions froze on their faces for a moment, and step by step they stood back.

“Hey, why are they looking at me like that?” Old Tang was a little surprised. The effect is good. Maybe too good.

This time, he felt the hot wind rolling behind him. As if there was a sun rising behind him. He turned his head trembling and looked at Nono, whose long hair was blown forward by the hot wind.

All three of them felt unable to breathe. It was not Tang that those girls feared, but something... standing behind them.

The huge force almost knocked them down.

Old Tang didn’t dare to turn his head, as if there was a wolf behind him that would bite his throat if he turned. He poked Lu Mingfei in the side. “You look back.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re the hero. Why don’t you turn around instead of telling me to turn around!” Lu Mingfei shivered.

“Don’t look back,” Nono’s voice trembled, “Look in the rearview mirror.”

In the rearview mirror, on the hood of the Bugatti’s rear engine, a burning figure stood, slowly leaning down with open arms as if to kiss either Old Tang or Lu Mingfei.

His face became clearer and clearer in the rearview mirror, his pupils were burning, glowing with brilliant gold. His face seemed to be cracked and there was lava flowing in the cracks. A terrifying face slowly opened up with a terrifying expression.

“Brother.” He said softly.

“Ghost!” Lu Mingfei and Old Tang hugged each other and screamed, their mouths open wide.

“Everyone! Stay out of danger! Stay out of danger!” Professor Schneider’s roar echoed in the campus radio.

The burning figure roared past a high-voltage transformer. The metal shell of the transformer melted in an instant. The brilliant fountain of sparks gushed up to the height of a person and then exploded, turning the surrounding lawn into scorched earth.

Gunshots were like thunderstorms and dense barrages came from all sides. The students trained in the battlefield hid behind buildings on either side of the lawn to make a perfect shooting gallery. Both groups are equipped with M4 style guns standard. 5.56 mm steel core bullets are fired at a rate of 900 rounds per minute empty magazines are immediately replaced and firing is resumed. The failure of the previous rounds of shooting made the person in charge allow them to fire at will without reservations. The Vice President of Lionheart, Lancelot, a third year student from France, directed the raid.

No bullet could hit the figure. When he was about two meters away, the bullets melted, as if there was an invisible dark fire. the hot molten steel formed a high speed flowing wall. It was like moths trying to fight a fire.

In the dull sound of shots, dozens of smoke trails moved towards the figure. They used a 40mm grendae launcher. This explosive power can eliminate an infantry vehicle in a direct hit.

the figure didn’t move but the molten steel swirling around him did, capturing all the grenades in the air. The explosive force was completely radiated outward.

Lancelot’s face was illuminated by the fire and he flinched. “President, bullets and grenades are useless against him.” He said into his cell phone.

In the ruined church, Chu Zihang and the other party looked at each other from a long distance. Under the attack of his Word Spirit ‘Royal Fire’ they had managed to keep their clothing intact.

“Lancelot! Retreat! If he can order metal and flames, he belongs to the ethnic group of Norton, the king of Bronze and fire. Before he uses Royal Fire, retreat!”

----------- OLD TANG RUNNING FROM CONSTANTINE ----------------

“Old Tang, where did you get your bug units?” Lu Mingfei was already very calm, but that’s because he wanted to cry inside.

After joining this college, he hadn’t spent his days watching beautiful women in luxurious classrooms and libraries. He had encountered one life-threatening situation after another. And this time was really no fun.

“I really don’t.” Old Tang swallowed. “You know my tactical style has always been very cautious. If I knew it would be this dangerous, how could I have come.?”

“Can you stop talking about Starcraft right now?” Nono said.

The three people stood side by side in the narrow road where Lu Mingfei was hiding from bullets on “The Day of Liberty”. They were less than 50 meters away from the guy who was constantly on fire. The narrow road could allow the flames to pass by them and was like a pocket of shadow so that ghost-like dragons would find it difficult to locate them. If he found them, he would surely hunt them down.

They were all still alive because of Nono’s gut instincts. At the school gate, she slammed a foot on the Bugatti’s accelerator. The supercar accelerated to a speed of 100 kilometers per hour in 3 seconds, rushed into the campus, and threw the dragon off the car. At this moment, both Old Tang and Lu Mingfei thought that everything they saw was an illusion. They turned to look at the two melting footprints on the Bugatti aluminum rear hood, and then turned to look at the figure thrown from the car running after them and accepted reality.

“What should I do?” Lu Mingfei said, “We can’t keep hiding here. I can feel like it can smell us.”

“BS, what do you smell like? Sashimi?” Old Tang said, “You can’t go out there and die!”

“But I do feel like he is approaching?” Nono said.

“What’s on the other side of here?” Lu Mingfei lowered his voice and asked Nono.

“There is an open area without any cover. Do you want to be attacked by a napalm bomb out in the open?” Someone said in the dark.

The three of them realized that there was a fourth person in this narrow passage.

Nono reached into the darkness with one hand, grabbed the man by the collar and at the same time sealed his throat with her fingers so that he did not dare to struggle, and dragged him out

“Sister, your technique is so flawless... Fingel, you dog, why are you here?” Lu Mingfei widened his eyes.

What was dragged out was his waste of a senior brother Fingel, who was actually wearing pajamas and carrying a plastic bag in his hand.

“My dear grandma, why do you show up here with a chicken leg in your mouth? What is the use of your scraps? I would rather Caesar or Chu Zihang show up!” Being able to raise his leg high enough, Lu Mingfei wanted to kick Fingel in the face.

“Ohhhhh...” Fingel said.

“What are you trying to be a rooster?”

“I mean... I , I , I just ordered a late night snack in the cafeteria but they said that tonight the guard won’t deliver food... but students are not forbidden to go to the cafeteria to get it, so I came out...” Fingel took a bite of the drumstick, crying.

“We have got to go! I think he... is really approaching!” Old Tang whispered.

The sound of footsteps came from outside the narrow road, and it became brighter and brighter, as if someone was approaching with a giant lamp in the middle of the night. The four people shut up at the same time, all in cold sweat.

Lu Mingfei’s premonition seemed to be right. The dragon could smell them and even if he couldn’t see them, he could feel their position.

“Is there a way to escape? It’s a dead end wherever you go. If you hide anywhere, he will find you in a few minutes...” Nono said softly.

“Calm down!” Fingel said. “That thing is a dragon, right? A dragon is full of fire. So if he catches fire, let’s go to the place with the most water. The swimming pool! Let’s go to the swimming pool in the gym. Fire’s biggest weakness in the Word Spirit system is water. As long as he temporarily has his power restrained, we might be able to destroy him with a single shot! On the way across from the Hall of Valor, I also grabbed a PPK. The modified one is enough to shoot a dragon. It’s a good gun.” Fingel pulled out a PPK from the waist of his pajamas. The shape was exactly the same as the cannon version shown by Masashi Toyama.

“You take a gun with you when you go out for dinner?” Lu Mingfei asked. “Is it reliable?”

“Self Defense! It is purely theoretically reliable. Water overcomes fire. I got an A in the advanced course of Linguistics.”

“There’s no other way then. Run!” Nono said loudly.

The four people jumped up at the same time and rushed toward the other side of the passage. The sound of footsteps approaching behind accelerated instantly, bright and dazzling, like a car behind with its headlights chasing.

---- HIDING IN THE SWIMMING POOL ----

“Old Tang, why on earth did you come here?” Lu Mingfei asked.

“i told you that I am a bounty hunter, right? We have a website for our business. We specialize in taking some supernatural cases. Cases are announced there regularly by anonymous employers. People with sufficient ability have the right to check the details of the case and decide if they want to accept it. If the employer is satisfied with your resume, you’ll receive a letter. After you finish, the commission will automatically be credited to your account.”

“Wow, you actually have an amazing line of work.” Lu Mingfei said.

“Actually, I don’t have the ability to do anything else.” Old Tang was a little bit shy. “I just seem to be naturally resistant to supernatural things. For example, if some people go into an ancient tomb are affected, I will not be. Some rumors in the industry say that I can’t be cursed, so I’m quite high level. So I can accept a 5 million dollar bounty.”

“Five million?” Fingel’s eyes widened.

“But I didn’t expect this case would be so dangerous. It only said to come to this college to find this one thing. As a result... had I known what it was, I would not have come. I would still be asleep in New York. I don’t have enough money to take you on a greyhound tour of the US.” Old Tang said. “Brother, you’re loyal, I won’t forget you.”

“I want a bus tour of the US too...” Fingel said.

Old Tang’s expression suddenly changed. “I don’t know why... I think... he seems to be chasing me.”

“No?” Lu Mingfei pricked up his ears like a bunny. “I didn’t hear anything.”

He suddenly stopped and his face turned pale. At this moment there was the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty sports hall, from far and near, as if only separated by a layer of wall panels. A voice dully shouted. “Brother... Brother...”

“Ghost!... The Ghost has chased us here!” Lu Minfei shivered. “What do we do now?”

Fingel’s face was not relaxed any more, and he handed everyone a plastic bag. “Don’t be nervous. He’s walking around the pool because he realizes that we are nearby, but because of the water, he can’t get a read on our exact location. It’s not surprising that he guessed we were here. The sports hall is right outside the Hall of Valor. We don’t want to scare ourselves. He’ll find us if we appear now. Let’s each dive with a plastic bag of air. And if we we get scared, we can take a few breaths from it. If we’re underwater, the fire spirit won’t be able to find us at all. Once he loses our trail, he’ll leave. I think his mind is a bit unclear. Maybe he’s a brain damaged dragon.”

“Is he really a dragon? Why do dragons look like people?” Lu Mingfei asked.

“Nine kinds of dragons are born. I thought the beautiful woman fighting with Caesar (a.n. Mai Sakatoku) may still be a dragon. Last warning. Don’t get nervous. Tension will show signs of movement. Water will form a seal, covering your breath. The Yangtze river formed a seal over the Bronze City for a long time. You have to believe that I was an ‘A’ grade.” Fingel finished, pressing the heads of the two of them into the water.

Lu Mingfei held his breath, buried his head in the water, not daring to open his yes. He swam very well, but he didn’t like to open his eyes while diving. Seeing himself surrounded by light blue made him feel like a person who had arrived on an alien planet. The water was not heated at all and soon he was shivering from the cold.

He didn’t know how long he was down there and nothing happened. The water in the swimming pool gradually began to warm up, as if the heating system were turned on. Lu Mingfei felt that at this temperature, as long as the air was not a problem, he was fine to stay under water. But the good times didn’t last long. Soon it became ridiculously hot. He didn’t know if Fingel set the wrong temperature but the swimming pool water was more suitable to take a shower in.

Lu Mingfei’s heart began to thump. There air in his bag was almost gone and the swimming pool was so hot. He hoped that the dragon had maybe collapsed somewhere so he could afford to go up and look. He tried to reach out and tap Fingel and Old Tang. He reached out, but didn’t feel anyone.

Horrified, he floated carefully above the water to look around. All he saw was white steam. The temperature of the swimming pool had risen by 40 degrees and had become like a hot spring. Lu Mingfei didn’t see Fingel and Old Tang. Maybe they got to hot and were already out of the water.

“Or... don't’ tell me that Old Tang and Fingel got eaten?” He thought. It seemed that the two of them were better than he was.

He climbed the stairs out of the pool and soon the water in the pool got hotter, steaming like soup. The whole area was like a sauna. It got very hard to see the exit.

Lu Mingfei didn’t dare to call out as a figure swam to the edge of the pull and climbed out of the water.

“Who’s there?” Lu Mingfei backed away and hurried back toward the water. He was stunned for a moment as he saw neither Old Tang nor Fingel’s face but a delicate young man who was climbing the stairs out of the pool. He looked younger than Lu Mingfei, maybe only sixteen or seventeen years old. He has a small face, pale brows and even black eyes. But those eyes were empty. His naked body reveled a kind of paleness. He’s so thin his ribs were visible.

He stared at Lu Mingfei for a few seconds.

“i didn’t come to see you, I came to see my brother. Have you seen him?” The boy asked, his voice drifting away.

“no.” Lu Mingfei shook his head, wondering who his brother was.

“Then I’m going to find him, goodbye. The boy and Lu Mingfei passed each other. The boy’s body was hot, and the heat hit Lu Mingfei in the face.

Lu Mingfei turned his head and watched the boy slowly walk away. “Brother... Brother...” The young man shouted, his voice getting farther and farther.

This sound seemed familiar... Lu Mingfei suddenly felt that goosebumps on his body were about to jump out of his skin. He remembered where he had heard this sound. The sound of the dragon shouting was exactly the same as this sound. Because it echoed off the walls, it seemed more erratic, like the cry of a ghost.

Did he talk to a dragon just now?

---------- THE DEATH OF CONSTANTINE ----------

Old Tang ran on the lawn, trying to leave this damn place as soon as possible. He felt a little guilty. Somehow, he was scared to deat just now. The sound of footsteps seemed to be ringing in his mind. He felt that it was impossible for him to hide in the water, so he couldn’t help but quietly get out of the pool.

He felt a bit sorry for Lu Mingfei, but the sense of fear was really terrible.

“Don’t run! Don’t run!” Fingel chased after him, “You can’t hide from him, he...”

Fingel turned his head to look at the top of the Hall of Valor, and was too frightened to speak Obviously the dragon had noticed their position, and the bones all over his body made an ear-splitting explosion. The skin on the back was split and the pair of membrane wings that had originally been attached to his back where opened, dripping with blood.

It was too easy to catch him with the advantage of flight.

--------------------------

The dragon flashed its membrane wings, flying on the roof over the roof of the Hall of Valor, and pounced towards the sprinting Old Tang. Seeing the shadow that enveloped him, Old Tang sank to the ground in shock.

“Replace your ammunition with live rounds!” The principal’s voice sounded in the communication channels of the students.

They don’t have time to think, nor do they have to. The principal is the absolute leader on the campus. Hundreds of guns had their ammunition replaced from Frigga Bullets to live rounds and this was aimed and the dragon gliding in the dark. They didn’t notice that there was a person like Old Tang also in the dark.

The dragon landed on the opposite side of Old Tang. Behind him, hundreds of bullets slid into the barrels of guns and the firing pins were primed.

Constantine realized what was going to happen next. he suddenly opened his wings, as if opening a huge barrier, wrapping Old Tang in it.

The gunfire ignited the entire campus in the dark, Thousands of rounds of live ammunition hit the dragon’s body. He had lost the power to command the metal and he could only use his back and wings to block it. The students kept changing their magazines until they had emptied them all. They didn’t dare to stop. In such a violent barrage, the dragon stood still and didn’t fall down.

This was an different kind of lifeform!

The last bullet let the chamber and the campus was filled with the pungent smoke of gunpowder. Everyone looked at the figure standing with wings spread out like a god in the gunpowder smoke.

Old Tang also looked at him, looking at his face, The dragon was broken, like a corpse nailed to a cross, with countless bullet holes. No matter how flexible his dragon bones were, after he lost the power of this speech, it was only a durable material. All the bones and joints on the open wings dissolved into powder, falling apart, one by one.

He no longer flowed with radiance and turned a bleak, grayish white. He smiled wearily at Old Tang. “Brother...”

“No... don't’ chase me! I don’t know you!” Old Tang screamed and turned his head to run. Behind him, the dragon’s body collapsed.

Old Tang ran wildly on the winding road. He didn’t know what he was running from. He just wanted to escape. The dragon was dead, but there seemed to be something chasing him.

“Brother, there are many people outside.”

“We are going to die Constantine, but don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid so long as I’m with you, brother. But why.... don’t you eat me? Eat me, brother, and you can break through any cage.”

“You are good food, but that would be too lonely. For thousands of years, its only been you and I together.

“But death is really sad, forever and ever in the pitch dark. You reach out your hand but you never touch anything.”

“The so-called destiny of the abandoned clan is to cross the wasteland, raise the battle flag again and return to our home. Death is not terrible, it is just a long sleep. Before you can swallow the world, it is better to sleep peacefully than to walk alone. We will still wake up.”

“Brother, if you raise the the battle flag and swallow the world, will you eat me?”

“Yes, then you will be with me, as King over the world!”

He remembered it, and it was the memory that was chasing him.

He stopped, pulling at his hair in desperation, and yelling at the dark night sky.

“Little Brother!”

He remembered it. He remembered everything.

It turned out that in these two thousand years, whether he was sleeping or waking up, he just wanted to come to him, but when he found him, he had forgotten what he looked like.

But when he remembered what he looked like, he was dead.

Blazing flames surrounded his body and rose into the night sky, and the flames exploded high in the sky, as if there were wings spreading there.

“Dragon Bone Cross. Dragon King Norton, finally revealed his angry godship.” Principal Anjou drink a martini from his glass in the church bell tower. “You can hear his shouting, so many years of loneliness and pain. Ah... it was him. Completely resurrected, with the soul of a martyr.”

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turnupfortragedy · 4 years

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Operation MOVE : an essay on Philadelphia PD racism & Leftover Crack

SAME TEXT AS IN PHOTO SET JUST DIFFERENT FORMAT

A simple bass line plays for a few seconds, violins and soft sounding strings follow in; creating a build up to deliberately deep drumming then an electric guitar plays and he screams. “Philadelphia, 78’, shut down MOVE by police state,” sings Stza, the lead singer of an American punk rock band from New York. Scott “Stza” Sturgeon was just a kid when at the time Philadelphia Mayor Frank Rizzo ordered the black liberation group MOVE to vacate their home. 9 members of MOVE were imprisoned for the death of James Ramp, a cop, who was shot in the back of the neck. Mayor Rizzo in an archive of NY Times on August 8th 1978 “There is no question that MOVE fired the first shot.” Years later, in 1985 the Philadelphia PD dropped two bombs on MOVE; catching 65 row homes on fire and killing eleven people. Today Black Lives Matter is protesting the murder of George Floyd, a black man, killed by Derek Chauvin, a cop, that knelt on Floyd’s neck. Seems like things have not changed much since then.

My professor mentioned MOVE in class while we all talked about George Floyd, the BLM protests in Philly, and society's need to keep black people oppressed. That conversation made me remember this song that I really love: Operation MOVE by Lëftover Crack. I listened to it a lot with one of my best friends Lauren; they introduced me to the song on one of our many drives to I-don’t-know-where during our time together at a college in Philadelphia county. They like a lot of really awesome music that I had never heard of because I led a pretty sheltered life until then.

There is this awesome memory I have of us always, almost constantly, playing this song after they showed it to me. We would be blasting the song so loud the car’s speakers were probably blown out from it. Together we'd punch the roof of their car from the inside with all the windows down; forcing the world to listen though they probably didn't understand the lyrics from all that screaming. Maybe I didn't either or not entirely anyway but I felt the music and what it meant. I never looked the lyrics up. I was too busy disassociating and following Lauren’s lead; Even when I was having a good time my mind was fogged with feelings and off somewhere, I’m not sure where. “Until the movement was incinerated” we would shout with the song, our fists red from hitting the metal roof.

MOVE was created in 1972, they fought for the rights of all living things, animals and humans alike. The group held demonstrations against police brutality and protested zoos. In my research I've found they follow the anarcho primitivism philosophy. “Friendly fire kills officer dead, the MOVE 9 are framed up instead” the song states the situation that occurred between MOVE and P.P.D. Most people believe friendly fire killed the officer in 1978 but our justice system incarcerated the 9 MOVE members for the killing of that cop. There is not much in the way of lyrics when speaking of the length of the written word for the song; but every bit powerful and packed with meaning. The tracking is 10 minutes long and has a wide range of musical genres working with the theme; the tragedy of how our country treats anyone against systemic oppression of minorities and people of color. Those instrumentals in the beginning hype you up for what is about to happen when the lyrics open up with that first incident.

Twenty seconds of the song between the lyrics in the beginning and the next set is more drumming and electric guitar that gives me goosebumps knowing what is coming.

The bombing of their commune or so called "compound", which I would argue both have a negative connotation, happened on May 13th in 1985. Philadelphia PD Lieutenant Frank Powell dropped two one pound bombs from above their home in a helicopter with the blessing of Police Commissioner George Sambor. "Sights trained on exits, the police wait. A firing squad for those who fight to escape" Lëftover Crack sings. You can clearly hear the anger that the band has for the destruction of everything the band believes in, just like MOVE does. "MOVE fought against exploitation, the state's injustice, and their oppression. For these crimes that the city pigs created, The Africa's were incinerated."

The lyrics are depressing but they aren't something dark the band created from their minds, this is factual; it is something our government allowed to happen. You can feel what those victims must have felt and how enraged the band is about the destruction of people and rights to their beliefs. Maybe because I agree with "f--k the police" that there cannot be peace without justice, that regardless of the individuals "ACAB." The world's opinions get to me and often I wonder am I biased, is the need for this fight, a revolution all in my head? Will my undying love for all people and their right to live life sway me into thinking the song is good?

The lyrics are good because they are written well; they put together the story of those who fought with their lives for something they believed in. I feel an uproar in my soul and the urge to fight when I listen to this song. I find myself trying to scream the lyrics like Stza does, I don't sound like him all punk and metal but I sound infuriated. The song transports me, imagining myself at the time this occurred, imagining the horrific moments the MOVE folks faced in their own home. A good writer does this, they create the scene and you can swear you see it there in front of you with your very own eyes.

I can picture the surrounding houses on fire, MOVE trying to escape. Their thoughts, awful ones, probably about dying; fighting for what is right then being met with gunfire by those sworn to protect and serve. I was young when I heard the band and mostly listening to the sounds of his screaming and the instrumentals, barely making out all his words in that song. But even though I couldn't make out everything he was screaming the feeling I could understand, these chills and this fire that already burned inside igniting more and more with each listen.

Now I know the lyrics, I've listened to many of songs with screamers; my ear is trained to understand the singers. Now I know skills to use to try and keep me from disassociating so I'm more present instead of scared, off somewhere in my mind. Now I know the history about MOVE, the Africa's, and how the world saw them through the eyes of the media: a cult, a terrorist group, cop killers. They, we, are people against the world looking for truth and justice.

Reports are conflicting but I do not put it past our government to have acted like they wanted to stop the fire and instead said LET IT BURN. Destroying their city in order to further oppress those against law enforcement overpowering the people they take an oath to protect, regardless of race and status. My professor mentioned MOVE and how her area of the city remembers. A lot of us don't know because in our world it's reported on, then gone like a trend. These injustices happens again and again, the cycle seems to never end. People forget they put the past out of their mind or move on quickly by deeming it a tragic accident.

"Sentenced to be incinerated, Sentenced to be incinerated" are Scott's last lyrics sung. When the song is coming to its end violins fade out the harsh metal theme for a few seconds. The song picks back up with the full works drums and all, the music sounds like frustration. Fading into another silence and a large piano piece with an acoustic guitar is played. The vocalist can be heard shouting vaguely, quietly ,and randomly, the music sounds like sad peacefulness. It is the year 2020 and I think, I hope these things don't have to occur anymore… that these songs don't need to be made. If they are made it is only to tell us the past not show us our future. I am waiting for that uplifting moment of music to lead this oppression to its end, not more death.

#operation move #MOVE #black lives matter #blm #no justice no peace #ACAB #george floyd #john africa #fuck the police #leftover crack #punk #mexican american #mexican #systemic violence #systemic injustice #systemic oppression #this is america

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years

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Remnants, Epilogue

I couldn’t wait, so here they are! The first epilogue is with children, the second is without--I know some people love the fluffy kid life, but some people don’t want that. Either way, life with Ahkmenrah is sure to be sweet : )

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X

Tag List: @kitkatcronch @kpopperotp12 @seafrost-fangirl @sassystrawberryk @perfect-rami @txmel @limabein @rami-malek-trash @underworldsheiress and @sherlollydramoine

Warnings: Light, fluffy smut and saccharine sweetness in Epilogue 1; full-out smutty smut in Epilogue 2

Epilogue 1 (with children)

Ahk: Part-time docent and stay-at-home dad

You: Professor of Anthropology at NYU

Home: Brooklyn, NY

It was Christmas Eve and a heavy snow had been falling throughout the afternoon. Ahkmenrah still had not tired of watching the white flakes, well, in today’s case it was more like the white streaks, fall from the sky.

“Look, Y/N! The street is gone, completely white!” Ahkmenrah nearly spilled his hot chocolate as he tapped on the foggy windowpane, nearly pressing his nose against it to get a better look.

You looked up from your book and smiled at his enthusiasm. He certainly made a pretty picture framed in the large, bay window of your home, the Christmas tree’s lights casting flickering shadows over his body, along with the orange-warm cast of light thrown from the fireplace.

In fact, the lights seemed to highlight just about everything you loved about your husband’s body, so you slid your bookmark into place and laid your book on the coffee table.

“Hey, Ahk,” you said in a voice that he knew quite well by now.

When he turned to look at you in answer, he was wearing a grin that you knew quite well by now.

“Yes, my queen?”

“I have a really fine view of the snow from right here. I think you should come take a look,” you suggested.

Ahkmenrah amplified his wicked grin by adding a quirk of his eyebrow.

You patted the seat beside you.

Ahk moved away from the window and with what could only be described as sauntering, made his way to the sofa.

You laughed at his exaggerated movements before throwing your hands over your mouth to stifle your giggles.

Ahkmenrah listened with a look of slight horror on his face before whispering, “I don’t think they heard us.”

“They were impossible tonight,” you groaned in a controlled whisper.

Ahkmenrah grinned as he sat his mug on the end table and took a seat next to you.

“I think they love getting presents just as much as their mother does.”

“Speaking of gifts,” you said with an arched brow as you straddled your husband’s lap.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you this week, but I am more than okay with it,” Ahkmenrah said as you kissed him and swiped your tongue across his full, bottom lip.

“You just look so good, Ahk,” you said, your lips and tongue teasing him now. “And smell so good, too,” you added as you kissed along his jaw line and started sucking on one of his sweet spots on his neck behind his ear.

Ahkmenrah grasped your ass, massaging it through your leggings before snaking his hands under your sweatshirt, moving to rub your lower back.

You worked his neck with the expertise that comes with being with someone for years, with knowing all of their proclivities. You continued kissing his neck slowly, licking and sucking your way from one side to the other. By the time you were closing your lips over his earlobe, he had unhooked your bra and was working both of your nipples to peaks with his fingers.

You released his earlobe and sat back to pull off your sweatshirt and get rid of your bra. You never got tired of the way Ahk’s eyes drank you in, his hands cupping your breasts and lightly massaging them, his bottom lip tucked in by his teeth as he looked from your chest to your face.

“I want you. So much, Y/N,” he said.

You smiled seductively, asking, “How do you want me, my king?”

“Just like this. I want to watch you fuck my cock, right here on our sofa while the snow covers the streets.”

You moaned, low and guttural, and ground your center into his bulge. Ahkmenrah’s eyes closed and he grasped your hips, pushing his own up just a little to give you even more pressure.

And then you both heard it. The thump of little feet hopping out of bed and the tell-tale slapping of running on the hardwood floor in the upstairs hallway.

Your exclamation of “Fuck!” was echoed by Ahkmenrah’s of “Shit!” as you scrambled to adjust yourselves. You just ducked back into your sweatshirt as your twins come tearing into the living room.

“SANTA!” they both yelled simultaneously.

“Try again, kiddos,” you said scooping each of them up, knowing Ahk was in no state to stand at the moment. He had his head flopped back on the couch and his palms pressed into his eyes.

“Look around and tell me what you see?”

“DADDY!” they, again, yelled simultaneously.

“Does daddy look like Santa?”

“No,” your little girl said as she giggled and bopped at your chin. “No face fur!”

“That’s right you said,” smiling. “Daddy does not have face fur. And speaking of daddy, wave goodnight. You know that if you don’t stay in bed until morning, Santa’s magic won’t work.”

The twins waved and said, “Night-night, daddy” as you carried them back up the stairs. Ahk waved from the couch and said, “Listen to your mommy and go to sleep, little ones.”

That would be a Christmas miracle.

After a solid twenty minutes of kisses, hugs, assurances that Santa was on his way, and tuck-ins and retuck-ins, you were backing slowly toward the door. Once you reached the door, Ahkmenrah slid his arm around your waist and you rested your head on his shoulder. Your twins were sleeping, back to back, their dark curls mingled together.

No matter how many times you put them in their separate beds, they always ended up together, so you didn’t fight it tonight. You honestly did not know how Ahkmenrah did it day after day.

When you told him you were pregnant, he insisted he wanted to stay home with them. He didn’t want to miss a moment of their childhood and considering the two of you had waited awhile before having children, he was ready to tackle the role of being a father to the best of his ability. He stayed on as a docent at the museum, usually working on weekends and over the summer once the university let out.

You and Ahk had gotten married within a month of his becoming mortal and then spent time travelling while you worked on publishing as much research as you could. When NYU offered a position, you happily took it, feeling like things had come full circle.

Ahkmenrah was the kind of father you knew he would be—he doted on your children but also made sure they were kind, well-mannered little humans. His regality was a central part of him, and although he wouldn’t be leading a nation, he would make sure his children would become the best versions of themselves.

Ahk took your hand as you shut the door, leaving it open just a crack. He led you down the hall to your own bedroom, and as soon as you shut the door, his lips were on yours, his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands back on your ass to squeeze you against him.

You moaned, breaking the kiss and starting to giggle.

“You don’t miss a beat, do you, love?” you asked through your smile.

Ahk returned your smile, his eyes filled with warmth.

“I love them so much, Y/N. It feels as if my heart cannot get anymore full. But then I look at you and realize that you’re still mine . . . mine to talk to, to listen to, to take care of, to watch, to touch . . .” he finished as he reached up to cup your face and to trace his thumb over your lower lip.

As much as you knew Ahkmenrah loved you and your children, you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next. “I still sometimes wonder if you made the right decision.”

“Of course I did,” Ahkmenrah said, a seriousness settling over his face as he stepped back to really look in your eyes. “What on earth makes you think that I could be unhappy with my decision?”

“You gave up immortality. Your parents. Your tablet. Your freedom.”

Ahkmenrah moved his other hand to your face to cradle it between his strong, soft hands. His answer was a whisper while his eyes burned into yours with his intent.

“I have—everything, Y/N. Everything. Besides, children are not young forever. Can you imagine how much fun we will have when they are grown, and we get to rediscover ourselves again? Yet another thing I will get to experience with you. Please, do not ever think I have regrets.”

Tears filled your eyes and your lips began to subtly tremble as you said, “How would you feel about having everything + 1, at least I certainly hope it’s only one this time.”

Ahkmenrah’s mouth fell open and his eyes filled with tears. “Are you serious? The gods have blessed us with another child?”

“Sure. The gods . . . or because you still can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you said, teasing your husband.

“I am sorry, my love, but—who just seduced me, like one half hour ago?”

You laughed, and you swiped at the tiny tears that had pooled at the corner of your eyes. “Like it was that hard.”

“Actually . . . ” Ahk said pulling your hand to the front of his joggers.

You laughed again and when Ahkmenrah joined in you noticed the tiny lines that had formed and stayed at the edges as they crinkled with his laughter. Your husband was aging, and he was even more beautiful than on the day you first met.

Ahk grew serious again and whispered, first against your lips, and then, after he dropped to his knees, against your abdomen, “Thank you. Thank you.”

You ran your hand through his dark, curly hair, your fingers scraping along his scalp and savoring the feel of the thick strands between your fingers.

“I love you,” you said, causing him to look up at you, his eyes dark, but still luminous in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Care to show me how much?” he asked with an impish grin.

You smiled and tugged on his shirt to pull him up and into a searing kiss.

* * * * *

After you had made love with the sound of the snow lightly tapping its icy fingers against your window pane, your mind drifted back to the night you had first met Ahk; as he lay with his head on your chest, his body as close to you as he could get, you traced over the freckles that spread across his shoulders. You had never seen such sadness on such a beautiful face before, and you knew that you would remember the first time you had looked into his intense eyes. You sometimes wonder if you had really fallen in love with him on the spot—seeing him as a relic, be damned. From that moment on, he seemed to possess you, every decision you made after that night was in consideration of him.

You decided there were worse things in the world to believe in than love at first sight, or perhaps your memory of meeting him was corrupted by the intensity of your feeling now. Either way, you loved the man who gave up everything and became your husband.

And then you were overwhelmed with an intense feeling of happiness as you realized that this was what you had never dared to hope for with your once-king. In that moment, you realized it was finally, finally okay to allow yourself to believe this was real. Your life with Ahkmenrah was real.

You blamed the hormones because crying was not something you were often prone to, but what you thought were silent sniffles immediately woke your husband.

His sleepy eyes, large and full of concern, were suddenly in front of your face, his hand grasping your cheek and wiping at the salty trail.

“My love, what is it? Please tell me what is wrong?” he said, a desperation in his voice.

“I’m just so fucking happy,” you said, a choked laugh escaping as you sniffed.

Ahkmenrah bent his head in exasperation.

“You scared me!” Ahk said, sighing, but smiling now.

“I just realized that everything we have right now is exactly what I never let myself believe I could have. It was just a little overwhelming in that moment. It’s so damn cliché, too! Girl gets what she wants. Cries tears of joy.”

Ahkmenrah shifted so he could pull you to him, your positions now reversed as you laid on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. You held on to him and he ran his fingers up and down your back.

Ahkmenrah asked, “Do you remember when we talked about the Cult of Hathor? I said I had a temple built for the five days of celebration?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what if we honor that tradition? It can become something we do every Christmas—we each list the five things for which we are the most grateful. Nothing elaborate. Just us, remembering our gratitude.”

You sat up and kissed Ahkmenrah, deeply, fighting back more tears. You kissed him until you chased away those tears, then you looked at him, your eyes locked on to his.

“This is why I love you so much. You remind me how to live my best life every single day, Ahk.”

“Did I or did I not make that promise to you on the roof of the British museum as I missed my first sunrise in 4,000 years?”

“You certainly did! I wonder why you did miss that sunrise?” you said in a teasing voice.

“Because all I wanted to do was look at you.”

“Do you remember what else you said to me?”

Ahkmenrah furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Kiss me until I cannot breathe.”

Then there it was: that million-dollar smile that still made your heart feel full to bursting.

“Well, will you?” Ahk said through that smile.

“Of course,” you said as you moved to capture his lips.

Your husband’s arms tightened around you, and as you kissed each other, you poured your mutual gratitude for one another into that kiss, both of you later drifting off to sleep as the snow continued to fall feeling so secure and so well-loved.

Epilogue 2 (without children)

Ahk: Dr. Ahkmenrah Fharrow, Archeologist

You: Dr. Y/F/N Y/L/N, Anthropologist

Current Dig Location: Egypt

Home: Cambridge, UK

The sand of the dessert swirled around your tanned legs. It didn’t seem to matter how much sunscreen you wore, a life in and out of the dessert definitely darkened one’s skin.

You smiled as you walked up to the dig, and saw that your husband, dressed in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, his boots scuffed and worn, was lecturing a group of new archeologists.

He looked so handsome, especially with the salty-grey hair that had begun to encroach on his temples.

A student asked a question, and Ahk grinned before saying, “That’s a question best answered by the most beautiful anthropologist in the world.”

Despite shaking your head and rolling your eyes, a smile snuck its way across your lips as you joined your husband down in the dig site.

“Huh. Guess I need to add that to my author bio, Dr. Fharrow.” you answered, listening as the students giggled in the background. “So, what was it that you were inquiring?

You spent a few minutes fielding questions before Ahkmenrah closed the session.

“Alright, off you go. It’s time to learn for yourselves, but remember, your tools are your friends. I don’t want to see anyone hacking away at another 6,000-year-old artifact thinking it’s ‘just a rock,’ Jamison.”

The students all laughed, giving Jamison a good ribbing as they scattered and began chattering excitedly as they split up to find an area to excavate.

“Hello, my queen,” Ahkmenrah said, kissing you.

“I missed you, too,” you said, moving closer to him and tweaking his chin. “I especially missed this face.”

Ahkmenrah grinned and kissed you again.

“Does this mean you secured our grant?”

“You are the world’s leading authority on ancient Egyptian artifacts, Dr. Fharrow. I didn’t have to work that hard at convincing them to give us money.”

“It probably wasn’t considering you are the world’s leading Egyptian cultural anthropologist, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“All thanks to you, my king,” you said smiling at your husband.

“No—I had nothing to do with creating your talented and clever mind, my love. And don’t forget, I would have never made it through school without you because I still can’t write worth a damn in English.”

You laughed and said, “We do make an excellent team.”

You stepped to the side, Ahk’s arm still around your waist, and surveyed the dig. It had taken you and Ahk such a long time to wade through the 100s of global applicants who applied to join you on a dig to finally unearth the Temple of Teti.

“Are you tired of sand and dirt yet?” you asked.

“What? You don’t want to share a tent with me anymore?”

“Oh no, trust me. If I could erect one in our house to keep up permanently, I would. There’s something about the dessert that brings out a rather . . . lascivious nature in you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just you, love.”

“Mmm,” you replied, as Ahkmenrah nuzzled your neck, not caring a bit if you tasted like sweat.

“What do you say we—”

“Dr. Fharrow! I think I found something!” a student called excitedly, waving.

Ahkmenrah huffed, “Probably another conspicuously shaped rock.”

You giggled and gave your husband a light smack on the ass as he headed toward the student.

It had been almost 20 years since the night you entered Ahkmenrah’s exhibit and ended up falling in love with a 4,000-year-old pharaoh.

Sometimes, when you were feeling insecure, and would ask him if he had any regrets, he gave you a look that practically radiated love and said he had never dreamed of anything nearly as great as the life the two of you built, together, each of you free to make choices, the two of you always working as a team, the end goal always, always to be happy.

You both spent a long time building your careers and reputations; you worked hard to help Ahk get through school, but he had such an enthusiasm for it, it made you ridiculously proud to know you helped him chase a dream that he chose for himself. You insisted that he could choose to do anything, but he wanted to honor his culture, his people, and most importantly, his parents. He realized that a piece of paper could give him the authority to tell their story, and in turn, his own story.

Together, you were going to leave a legacy that would honor his culture.

* * * * *

Every time you and Ahk returned home from a dig, you had a small party with your closest friends to catch up on each other’s lives. The two of you owned a nice country home not too far from Cambridge, where, when the both of you decided that you’d had enough field work, you’d enter into the classroom. Both you and Ahkmenrah kept in close contact with the university that Ahk considered his alma mater two times over.

Ahkmenrah slid the lock on the door after the last few friends left. You were gathering wine glasses and tumblers and then loading them in the dishwasher. It had been a great evening full of laughter and rich conversation, and it just happened to be a nice, clear night so you all could enjoy some time on the patio that Ahk had built himself.

You loved to dress up for these parties as a contrast to your normal desert get-ups, so you had chosen to wear a black, silk jumpsuit, cut just right to accentuate your curves. You caught Ahkmenrah watching you all night, and now, you felt him before you saw him, pulling you back into his hips, his hands sliding around your waist, his breath sweet from the wine and warm on your neck as he hissed, “You dared to tease your king all night? Look at you,” he breathed, sliding his hands up to ghost his fingertips over the top of your breasts.

You swallowed, audibly, as your eyes closed of their own accord. You loved playing this game with him; wearing something pretty, sexy. Giving him “the look,” sitting too close, light touches; it was reminiscent of your stolen night together in the city and it was as if neither of you had ever forgotten those moments that led up to your first night together, as if they had become part of the prequel to all of your acts of intimacy.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps as Ahk continued his ministrations, sometimes lightly touching, sometimes squeezing, his lips now attached to your neck near your pulse after he had pulled your hair to the side. He sucked and swirled his tongue until you were practically mewling.

You pulled out of his grasp and pushed him back into the kitchen island, kissing him deeply, passionately. Ahkmenrah’s hand buried itself in your hair, while the other reached up to grasp the side of your face as he slid his fingers into your hair on that side, too.

He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes intense, but amused.

“Do you want me, my queen?”

“I’ll want you, even after my bones have turned to dust,” you whispered, your lips ghosting over his.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

“Show me.”

Ahk reversed your positions and pressed you into the kitchen island. He removed the straps of your jumpsuit from your shoulders, letting it slide from your arms and catch at your waist. You had not worn a bra, relying only on what had been sewn into the jumpsuit and Ahkmenrah could not ignore how quickly your breasts were exposed to him.

He palmed them, massaging them both while you closed your eyes and let your head fall back. You leaned back on the counter, proffering your chest to your husband.

Ahkmenrah worked your nipples, first with his fingers, slightly calloused now from his work at the dig. He traced featherlight circles around your nipples, causing goosebumps to appear all over your breasts and arms. As your nipples hardened, he bent to catch one in his mouth, sucking gently and then teasing with tiny flicks of his tongue. He kissed across your chest, open-mouthed, sloppy kisses, and repeated the teasing to your other nipple. You gripped his hands and slid them over to the sides of both of your breasts and squeezed them around his face, loving the way his stubble scratched at your skin.

Ahkmenrah groaned before stepping back and yanking the rest of your jumpsuit down. He grinned when he saw your tiny black underwear.

“Those hardly qualify as a garment,” he said as he picked you up under the thighs and set you on the counter top.

“Oh, I think they are serving their purpose,” you said as you took in the way his eyes darkened when he saw them.

Ahkmenrah narrowed his eyes before he reached up and pulled up on them, tightening them so your outer lips were spilling over the edges. He licked along them, teasing you unmercifully, sliding his tongue over your clit, but it was just covered by enough fabric that you couldn’t really feel anything.

“Please,” you groaned. “Just take the damn thing off.”

Ahkmenrah laughed, his lips still on your clit over the underwear, teasing. He loved when you begged.

Ahk loosened his hold on your underwear and began to lower them, lightly kissing places around your hips as he gained access. You were propped up on your hands, watching him tease you and trying not to just squash his arrogant head between your thighs.

You gave his curly hair a good tug, which earned you another arrogant smirk, before he fully removed your underwear.

“Like usual, you can dish it out but you cannot take it,” Ahkmenrah said between kisses to your inner thighs.

“Yes—I admit it. I’m a bully. A bully who wants to come, preferably on your smartass face,” you said while spreading your legs, forcing him to either stop or move closer to your core.

Ahkmenrah chuckled again before taking pity on you. He spread your outer lips and hummed in appreciation at how wet you were. He leaned back in and flicked his tongue across your clit. Your thighs quivered a bit in response and Ahk set a steady pace of licking and sucking until you were groaning and panting a chorus of yeses that ended with a guttural groan of Ahkmenrah’s name.

“So fucking beautiful when you come, my love,” Ahk said as he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

He didn’t even bother taking off his pants, only unzipping enough to reach in and pull his hard cock out. Because of the height of the island, he had to climb up to actually fuck you. Just as he was about to slide into you, he banged his head off one of the low lights over the countertop.

You started laughing as he rubbed at his head.

“I forgot to warn you about that considering it was my head that got bonked the last time we did this—oh! Oh, fuck, Ahk!”

He had slid into you, ending your recollection of the last time the two of you got carried away in the kitchen. His cock felt like it was made for you when he was buried inside your heat to his base. It felt so goddamn good each and every time he entered you.

Ahkmenrah’s teasing of you had actually gotten the best of him and he held nothing back as he fucked you, steady and hard. You gripped the edge of the counter that was above you and bucked your hips to meet his thrusts, clenching your walls around him and moaning, lost in the heat of your passion.

It didn’t take long before Ahkmenrah grunted and pulled out, jerking himself off over your abdomen. His eyes were on yours, waiting for them to open again.

You smiled, knowing he was watching you. You slowly opened your eyes and met his.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbled as he reached out to trace a finger through his come, leaning down to bring it to your lips.

You wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked, swallowing what he had proffered.

“Careful, old man. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you said as you patted his cheek and wiggled your naked self off of the island and reached for a paper towel.

“I think you are forgetting something. You’re the old one.”

You stopped dead in the midst of wiping his come off of your stomach and slowly gave him a look to rival that of Medusa’s famous gaze.

Ahk laughed, deeply and happily, then dropped off the counter as he zipped up his pants. He was still laughing as he moved in to give you a kiss, but he was met instead with the paper towel and caught only the cold remnants of his come, not your warm lips.

“You. Are. Dead,” he said, his brows raised, his face locked in an expression of surprise.

You laughed, loudly, and took off for the bedroom, holding onto your breasts as you jogged down the hall and then up the stairs, squealing as you heard his thundering footfalls behind you.

You were both laughing and panting as he tackled you onto your queen-sized, fluffy, white bedding. He had your wrists pinned above your head as you attempted to work your legs free to try to gain the upper position.

The sound of rain suddenly slamming against your large bedroom window made you both stop and look out at the weather.

Deja vu overwhelmed both of you as you returned your eyes to one another’s. The rain slapped against the window as Ahk quickly removed the rest of his clothes. This time, you made love, and it was an echo of that moment so many years ago when you were brought together by a rainstorm just like this one, but a thousand miles away in a city that never sleeps.

Your lovemaking was so much sweeter this time with both of you knowing one another’s bodies so well. But what truly made it sweeter was that you knew when you fell asleep, Ahk would stay right there, his breathing, even and deep, and he would be there, bathed in the golden light of the morning.

It was clear Ahkmenrah’s thoughts were twisted with yours as he looked into your eyes when you came; he watched the way your lips moved as you said his name, both of you coming in an intense, trembling mess against the backdrop of the rain.

You were the best choice Ahkmenrah had ever made, and even though the remnants of his past felt further and further from him as time passed, he didn’t mind. Because every lost remnant was replaced by a moment like this with you.

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