#the only three men i respect /j

[theemporium]

I have a feeling that trouble has cussed out j*s after he criticized max for not doing good but he did his best

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

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It was a stupid mistake. Not one he could do much about, but stupid nonetheless. 

He could feel something in his stomach drop as he drove the car back into the pitlane, making his way back to the garage where he knew his team were waiting for him to debrief his qualifying session—his very bad qualifying session that left him starting the race from P12. He hated disappointing his team, he hated disappointing himself when he knew he could do better.

But most of all, he hated disappointing his father, who he knew was currently waiting in the garage for him.

And he was right when he pulled himself out of the car, barely pulling his helmet and balaclava off before Jos was standing in front of him. He didn’t care that the whole team could hear him. He didn’t care that the cameras could catch him. Jos Verstappen had no fucking shame in berating his son for his mistakes, and Max just focused on a random spot of the floor until it was over.

Nobody ever stepped in. Nobody dared to. 

Nobody but you.

“Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” 

It was clear that most of the garage—Jos and Max included—were surprised to hear you talk. To be fair, your interactions with the man were already limited and you had never shared the garage together on a race weekend, not until this grand prix. And it became abundantly clear why when you took a step towards both men, your fingers grazing Max’s as you stood by his side. 

Jos blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Jos, you’re not deaf,” you retorted, no amusement or lightness written across your expression as you stared at the man. 

“Who do you think you are talking to me like that?” Jos said, a laugh to his words but there was nothing sweet or happy about his laugh. It was as cold and bitter as him. “I am his father. I am well within my right to—”

“To judge a driver much better than you ever were?” You interrupted, brows raised in interest as the man fell quiet. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you only stood on that podium twice in your life, no?”

The man stayed quiet.

“Trouble,” Max murmured in a soft voice, but you didn’t turn to look at him. 

“Have some fucking respect when you’re talking to the three time world champion,” you stated bluntly before you took Max’s hand in your own, pulling him away from his father and the thick tension suffocating the garages. 

Max didn’t say anything as you made your way to his driver room, letting him settle onto the couch as you closed the door behind you. He didn’t need to even open his mouth as he opened his arms expectantly, happily accepting the way your body curled on his lap as his grip tightened around you.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Always,” you answered simply, pressing a soft peck to the base of his neck. “He may be your father, but he’s not your dad.” 

Max only nodded, but he didn’t trust himself enough to speak.

“And your dad loves me,” you continued. “I mean, I swear Christian wants to adopt me.”

He couldn’t help but snort, happy enough to feel the way you were smiling against his skin. 

“I’m serious! He adores me!”

“You’re a very easy person to adore,” Max murmured softly. 

“You are as well,” you murmured back, lifting your head to smile at the boy. “It’s what makes us such a great couple.”

And he could smile back in return, enjoying the fleeting moments of you in his arm and your smile shining at him before he had to return back to reality.

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[anticapitalistclown]

clownie

how would lookism men be as dads ?(how many kids, girl dad vibes or boy dad vibes)

yes! prepare yourselves bc this is going to be a long post...

Lookism men as dads headcanons

let's start with J High Crew and +:

Daniel - he has the vibes to have 1 boy and 1 girl, they're three years apart and get along surprisingly well, they have the typical sibling fights but at the same time they're partners in crime. His kids are well educated and are really respectful, but both of them are as bold as the father.

Zack - same as Daniel but reverse, he has a girl, an older sister responsible and harsh, the pride of her father, and the little one, a boy, a funny and impulsive little Zack that makes sure the family keeps a constant eye on him. They're four years apart, as soon as the eldest got into kinder that Zack went for a second.

Vasco - Vasco always wanted a big family, since young he wished for three daughters, genetics had other plans tho, he went for a daughter and had a son, a healthy and strong one, a year after he wished the gods for a daughter but life blessed the family with another son and so on till Vasco had three sons, each one a year apart from the other, the eldest, a strong, kind and responsible son, he is the peace maker of the siblings, the middle child, a wild and funny version of Vasco he gets along with Daniel's first child, the third child, an adventurous and curious boy, so curious that makes him get in troubles for that, making everyone worry about him. Five years later since the youngest was born, life blessed the family with a girl, a kind and adventurous little girl that gets spoiled by her father and has three bodyguards so called brothers.

(sorry about all this text but I love the idea of Vasco wishing for three daughters and having three sons instead)

Jay - I don't see him being a dad, more of the cool uncle (like jinyoung), but if life gave him a child, it would be a girl, a kind and classy girl.

Jace - a son, a little version of him, a little detective, he will born at the same time as Vasco's third son, a chaotic duo that will continue the father's heritage, on the other hand he would be like another big brother for Vasco's daughter.

Vin Jin - he was afraid his bloodline will inherit polycoria as him so he would be really reluctant to having kids, still, life blessed him with a daughter, she's the apple of his eye, his partner in crime, the reason that made him a god parent for her.

Johan - a son, a gentle and kind son, he's spoiled by Zack's eldest daughter and gets along really well with Daniel's kids.

Big Deal

Jake - he was more than fine settling with an only child, but life blessed him with two sons, genetics are hard on his side so Jake would have two copy and paste versions of him, they are two years apart and get along really well, even more when the youngest enters puberty, they share the same friends, same adventures and great times. The eldest is the extroverted one, his charisma makes people want to be around him, the youngest is more quiet but makes the most random and unhinged plans, when both brothers are together they make the most funny dynamics.

Sinu - a son, the best friend of Jake's kids, he's the eldest of the new gen of big deal. Sinu settled perfectly well with a son, but will foster home some runaway kids.

Samuel - a daughter, Samuel wasn't even sure to be a dad but to think of causing the same pain he had to suffer because of a shitty absent parent, to his bloodline made him settle and be more responsible. Samuel's daughter is spoiled to the brims, she is quite arrogant but she is not a bad person, at least that is what the big deal kids say. Every parent is scared of her, they will all let their sons date everyone they like and encourage them, but will warn them about Samuel's daughter, not bc of the girl, but bc of her father.

Jerry - a son, another blessed with a son and strong genetics, Jerry was more than fine with a single son, the wife did a great and enough hard job of bearing the big son of such a big man. He is the same age as Jake's youngest son, they're inseparable.

Jason - life blessed him with two daughters, they're five years apart, being the youngest, the youngest of all the big deal kids. The eldest daughter and the big deal boys are like peas in a pod, which makes Jason worry about her.

Brad - Brad settled happy with a son, the voice of reason of the big deal kids, he's a year younger than Jake's eldest son.

Lineman - a son, the second youngest of the big deal kids, he is a good boy but always manages to get in trouble (Jason's youngest daughter fault).

Hostel

Eli - his daughter, Eli settled with Yenna, he worked hard for giving her the world and wouldn't change it other way.

Warren - a son, who Yenna cared of him as a big sister, Warren also took in the family Like What and So Funny, so he has two daughters and a son.

Geniuses

Gun - he was blessed with a daughter, a spoiled girl, the pride of Gun, he taught her how to fight, how to grow up without needing any man, Gun raised a girlboss but surprisingly he did well enough to not give her any trauma. Gun didn't care much of making a bloodline of warriors so he was more than happy with raising his daughter.

Goo - two monsters both one year apart, first a boy, and then a girl, both are the the same as him, and the three of them are everyone's worst nightmare.

James - a son, unhinged just as his dad, the new nightmare of the next gen.

Ansan

Taesoo - three kids, his first one, a daughter, a smart girl both academically and street-smart, his best helper, the middle, a boy, a little wild version of him that makes his eldest sister stress, luckily, the third child, a girl, made the middle one focus and mature because she truly is a menace. The eldest and the middle child are two years apart, and the youngest is six years younger than the eldest and four than the middle.

Hudson - a daughter, she has Taesoo's eldest as her role model, she is smart and spoiled by her dad and uncles, doesn't need siblings bc Taesoo's kids take care of her.

Chungcheon

Jibeom - three, Jibeom wanted to maintain the tradition of having a big family so he got blessed with three children, the eldest a strong and independent boy that helps the family, the middle child, a smart daughter, daddy's princess, the youngest, the black sheep, a rebellious boy that warms Jibeom's heart, his youngest son makes him remind of his little brother.

Jihan - unlike his older brother, Jihan had more than enough with his only son, if the boy felt lonely he had his three cousins to play with, his little rebellious and hyperactive son made the same and enough chaos as Jibeom's three kids. When the two youngest cousins of the Kwak family were together the whole town trembled.

Workers

Eugene - twins, two girls, two times eviler than their father, the new gen better be careful.

Yuseong - a boy, the protector of his cousins.

Ryuhei - a girl, a beautiful and evil girl spoiled to the brims by her father.

Kenta - a boy, his heir and his pride, he will seek revenge on Gun's daughter only to get gasslighted by her

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Three: Bad Timing

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's that time of the month and some new innocent boisterous visitors to the house don't make it any easier, in addition to you still being muddled over Robert's behavior.

Word Count: ~5,128

Warnings: Descriptions of menstruation, period stereotypical gender roles, some angst, nightmares, infidelity hints, age gap, slight daddy kink (sorry not sorry)

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy (especially this chapter as the children and their mother are my made-up characters), and this is essentially AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One

Part Two

Tag list: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman @uniquetacofun

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know.

It happened midmorning, the familiar feeling of a bloom of crimson staining your panties as you were in the process of pouring out a full bottle of wine in the sink since you decided to purge all bottles of it from the house. Robert wouldn't be that upset; he was not extremely fond of wine and you couldn't trust it to make you feel happily drunk, for it seemed to have the opposite affect and you refused to succumb to the negativity, plus being compared to Katherine didn't help matters.

You left the bottle in the sink for the time being and hurried off to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the leaking blood and you pulled down your skirt and panties, frantically searching for the box of sanitary napkins tucked under the sink and once you retrieved a fresh pair of underwear from the closet, you affixed one in and groaned at the incoming cramping beginning to pulsate through your lower abdomen. You were glad Robert was not around to witness, although he had always been supportive and understanding, men in general tended to be peculiar about menstruation and sometimes you couldn't blame them; it was an intimately awkward pain in the ass.

You popped in a painkiller pill from the medicine cabinet and went back to the kitchen sink, staring down at the vibrant red splash of wine; a parallel to what just began for you. So maybe last night had not been just you overreacting from alcohol after all... As you uncorked the second bottle, it then occurred to you that this was an awful waste and you stopped, setting the wine on the counter and sighing. Maybe keeping a few around wouldn't hurt, especially when company came over... You'd just have to practice self control, that's all.

Around midday (lunchtime for most people), Robert dropped by, but he certainly wasn't interested in eating and only came to retrieve his hat and a briefcase, casting a quick cautious smile your way as you were sitting at the kitchen table, intent with studying for your nursing degree. At least that took your mind off your bleeding and the cramps had numbed from the painkiller, making the day bearable.

But around two o'clock, you heard a loud unexpected knock at the front door and startled, pushing aside papers and an anatomy book to go greet whomever it could be.

The mother, Mrs. Thompson, whom you'd discussed babysitting her two young boys on the first day here was there with them standing on the front step. Her children Duncan and Douglas were close in age, around three and four respectively and nearly twins; strikingly similar in appearance with their matching towheaded short hair and big brown eyes set in cherub faces.

You hadn't expected them so soon and it must have shown on your face because she was instantly apologetic, speaking hurriedly.

"I'm sorry if this is an inconvenient time, but I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to watch my little boys for a few hours as we talked about?"

"Oh, sure, I did promise to after all," you replied courteously.

"I'd be appreciative. It's my tentative first half day on the job and they don't have the daycare in operation yet, so it's been rather hectic and of course my husband works at the lab, so he can't babysit."

"Of course. Now what time do you think you'll be able to come pick them up?"

"Six o'clock, but we usually eat at five for supper and they tend to get so cranky and peckish, so-"

"I'll feed them, don't worry," you offered and her eyebrows shot up.

"Are you sure? I'd be so grateful if you could. Oh, and if you tend to have trouble telling them apart, just remember this: Douglas is the older one with more vocabulary and about two inches taller."

She touched the tops of their heads and bent to peck each one's cheek quickly before straightening up, giving them directives.

"Boys, please behave for Mrs. Oppenheimer and Dougie, look after your brother. Mommy will come back soon, okay?"

They nodded distractedly and then bolted off into the house curiously, already taking in this new environment and starting to chase each other around the living room. Mrs. Thompson shrugged with an exhausted laugh.

"Well, as you can see they are the opposite of timid. They can entertain themselves for hours, but that's just the problem; they just give each other endless energy!"

"I'll do my best to keep them in line and safe," you told her assuredly before bidding goodbye and closing the door, taking a deep breath and moving to sit down on a chair in the lounge, where the boys had stopped racing and were quietly exploring the space, peeking on tiptoes at the bookshelves and out the windows. You watched them bemusedly, not accustomed to children very much and they almost reminded you humorously of puppies as they wandered about and began to chase each other, a game of tag it looked to be with Douglas tapping his little brother on the back and then racing off to the other side of the room with a laugh.

"Be careful," you called out as Duncan bolted after him, bumping into the furniture along the way. It took a few minutes for you to relax and adjust to their energy, and while they were busy tagging each other back and forth, you went to retrieve the papers and books from the kitchen to continue studying, but unfortunately your headache was coming back stronger with fatigue and you really had to use the bathroom, but worried if you left them unsupervised, would they get into mischief or accidentally ruin anything? Your head kept throbbing and so you leaned back to rest your eyes just for a moment... Until a shattering crush made you gasp and you saw a guilty faced Duncan standing at the foot of a smashed vase on the floor. His older brother quickly apologized and sat down to pick at the pieces, but you rushed to take over so he wouldn't hurt his hands on the sharp shards of pottery, telling both of them to go sit down now. They obeyed, clamoring up onto a chair and swinging their legs, pouting.

"Alright you two, this is your first warning. If you break something else, I'll have to tell your mother about it," you warned, but they only gave you doe eyed innocence that made you feel a little better. You plowed through for a couple hours, taking one bathroom break and then helping Duncan with his own potty break before there was a noise at the front door at four-thirty. The boys perked up and ran to it, presumably thinking it to be their mother even though she wasn't supposed to be back until six. You heard Robert's surprised voice and entered the hall just in time to see little Duncan run straight into his legs, bouncing off and appearing confused as he staggered backwards.

"Daddy?" he asked, craning his neck upward and face falling when he saw a different man.

"Oh dear, I certainly hope not," Robert chuckled with wide eyes as he gently maneuvered around the little boy and you walked to meet him with a smirk.

"Daddy, hmm?"

He nearly flushed and glanced away as you looked down, allowing Duncan and Douglas to go play outside in the yard for awhile.

"Just stay on the grass and by the window where I can see you both," you instructed firmly and Douglas nodded, taking Duncan's hand and dashing out the open door as you looked back to Robert, still smiling.

"I kind of like the sound of 'Daddy' for you."

His eyebrows twitched in perplexion and he held up a finger, speaking with uncertainty.

"I thought we agreed to hold off on raising any children - of our own that is - until later? Or have you changed tunes already?"

You reached for his tie, giving it a teasing tug and cocking your head, playing up to his confusion.

"That's not what I meant, darling. I think you do something to me when referred to as that... Don't you think daddy has a nice ring to it when spoken in my voice, though?"

He gave you a strange look, but smiled amicably.

"I, well, I suppose it's... interesting. You continue to surprise me and nourish my expanding knowledge of various feminine desires, so I thank you for that, my love." He walked away towards the living room and you trailed behind, unsure of quite what to think of that response.

"How long have they been here, the children?" Robert asked while setting his briefcase down to the floor and you causally glanced at your wristwatch.

"About a couple hours, Mrs. Thompson dropped them off at after two o'clock."

"Well, you must have your hands full," he remarked.

"It's been easy," you half lied, knowing that broken vase was very minor loss but you weren't completely sure of what you were doing, not being an expert babysitter, and you still had to make a somewhat kid friendly dinner.

He just nodded, walking over to the large window panes and staring out at the yard, where the boys were chasing each other around a pine tree and then Douglas crouched down, pretending to shoot at his brother with a little finger gun and Duncan copied him, dodging invisible bullets. You joined Robert's side and observed unsmiling as you considered how males have such an inherent tendency towards violence, even during mock play. It spoke volumes about the tragic times you were living in and how it all was filtered down to children.

"I'm sick of all the fighting, Robert," you commented sadly and he made no expression.

"We live in a volatile planet," he replied flatly and you pursed your lips, turning away.

"That doesn't mean I have to embrace it."

"You don't; it just takes you instead, a pacifist as prisoner."

"I'm about to start dinner, would you like to help for once?" you changed the subject with a snap and he clenched his jaw, following you to the kitchen where you fumbled with pots and pans, gathering ingredients for a simple chicken with mashed potatoes and side vegetables dinner. Robert pulled out the cans of peas and carrots from the cupboard and took his time with the can opener, muttering under his breath about explosive versus implosive and you side eyed him, asking him if everything was alright.

"Yes, fine. Only conversing with myself," he answered with a thin grin and you shrugged, beginning to cook and deciding to leave out ample amounts of spices on the chicken because of the children's likely tender taste buds.

The boys came in a few minutes later and you noticed dirt and dust all over Duncan's front and Douglas had filthy hands as well.

"How did you two get so dirty? I told you to stay on the grass," you exclaimed exasperatedly and they ignored this, distracted by the dinner preparation and you had to shoo them away from the stove.

"Can we have porridge?" Douglas asked hopefully and you stared, amazed at how children's thought processes work.

"No, that's for breakfast only. It's dinnertime."

"Cereal?" Duncan added hopefully, licking his upper lip and you shook your head, looking to Robert who wasn't paying much attention and fixated on spooning out the canned vegetables into a saucepan.

"Mac 'n cheese!" Duncan suddenly shouted, beginning to hop up and down while his brother added to this impromptu guessing game.

"Hotdogs? Momma makes us hotdogs, they're my favorite!" he exclaimed as you walked over and took their small arms, marching them out to the bathroom to clean up. You can't do much about Duncan's soiled shirt other than a wipe down, for there were no clothes in the house that would remotely fit him and you hoped his mother won't be upset.

When you came back to check on the cooking and having sent the boys back to the living room with a stack of blank papers to draw on with pens from Robert's study, you smell smoke - and not the usual odor from cigarettes. The pan of chicken is burning and Robert is nowhere in sight.

"Dammit!" you cried, furious at him for carelessly and bizarrely abandoning the hot stove, and you rushed to pour a cup of water on the pan, creating a loud hiss and puff of smoke and vapor. The chicken was too blackened for consumption, so you tossed it out bitterly before going to mash up the potatoes. You felt a tug on your skirt and you glanced down, seeing Douglas looking up at you, his tiny chubby hand clutching the hem of your skirt.

"I need to go potty," he declared, hopping from foot to foot and you sighed in frustration, taking his hand and leading him down the hall once again to the bathroom and making sure he could go by himself before returning back to the kitchen, where now the vegetables were becoming overcooked mush.

"Fuck," you muttered, hurriedly removing them and dumping forkfuls onto plates. You jumped at the sound of Robert behind you and you glared at him as he looked visibly distracted.

"Thanks for nothing! We almost had a kitchen fire because you went off to who-knows-where while I was cleaning the boys up in the bathroom," you chastised and he closed his eyes briefly, stressed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, I had to run through a calculation and I thought it would be fine to leave it for a minute as long as you were coming back," he explained and you scoffed, thinking that as no excuse.

"You should know better than to leave a stove unattended, even for a few moments. And you know, this is absurd. When are they coming to finish the kitchen? If we're going to host, we'll need a bigger space."

"Don't worry, they'll be working on it and I'll fix this." He moved to take the saucepan from you and ladle out the rest of the soggy veggies. You took a seat at the table, plunging your sore head into your palms just as Douglas came wandering back in, whining.

"I'm hunnngry, Mrs. Oppen-hemmer..."

"Oppen-heimer," Robert corrected over his shoulder with a smile and you rubbed your face, standing up.

"It'll be just a minute, how about you please have a seat to wait, alright? And where is your brother at?"

"Potty," Douglas replied and you gave Robert a glance.

"Can you go fetch him and leave the food to me?"

He gave a curt nod and left the room while you took the last chicken breast left and placed it in the pan to sizzle. Thankfully it didn't take too long and you were grateful your husband was dealing with one child while the other waited, watching you curiously and kept asking if he could have ketchup, presumably for the chicken.

"Just about ready?" Robert's voice made you turn to see him with Duncan toddling in, hanging onto the cuff of Robert's sleeve.

"Did he wash his hands?" you asked and Robert nodded again in affirmative, helping the kid onto a chair. You set out their plates and once everyone was seated, the boys dug in clumsily (Duncan was definitely the messier one and you tried to help him with cutting up the chicken), but in all considered, they were fairly civilized; their mother taught them well for their age.

Robert meanwhile was quiet, neglecting a smoke as he actually ate most of the food on his plate instead and you wondered if you should have young guests over more often if they influenced him to make a better impression of an appetite.

"So how do you all like it? Good?" you asked them towards the end of the meal.

"Yummy," Duncan said while Douglas vigorously nodded with a closed stuffed mouthful and Robert smirked, gently nudging your ankle under the table with his foot.

"It's delicious as is anything you put your culinary talents to is."

"Even though it burned initially and these vegetables are a tad overdone?"

"Perhaps we should try barbeques then," he suggested, the tip of his shoe suggestively tickling your stockings and you twitched in your chair, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"I'm glad you all are satisfied."

When the boys finished, you took their plates to wash out at the sink and Robert told them to go to the living room to play. He came close, grazing your shoulder and feeling around your skirt, but you flinched away from his touch and he frowned, taken aback.

"Not now," you murmured and he backed away, retreating from the kitchen as you finished the dishes, joining the others in the main room a while later, and immediately noticing Duncan posing in front of the fireplace with Robert's tobacco pipe sticking out from his mouth. You quickly swiped it out from him while your husband only laughed as he was seated on a chair in front of the boy, clearly entertained.

"That's for grown-ups only, young man," you chided seriously (with a scoff at Robert for encouraging this) and he giggled sheepishly before getting distracted by his older brother tackling him from behind. They wrestled on the rug before getting up and Duncan attempted a handstand which ended with him falling back down with a flump to his bottom. Douglas giggled and you could only shake your head in amusement as you sat down on the sofa, Robert abandoning his chair to join you with a sigh, tucking an arm around your body as he watched the boys, displaying a pondering expression.

"I don't recall Frank and I ever being that rambunctiously cheerful at their size," he remarked softly.

"Well, from what I've heard, you were a rather unique child."

"I was sickly often; these boys are as healthy as horses."

"Well, besides that. I doubt those two will be giving a formal presentation to the New York Mineralogical Club on geology at age twelve, although you never know."

"True, but look at them; they have such modes of sensory perception and imaginations that are lost on us adults. What if they could solve the most complex problems with simplicity?"

You leaned your head tiredly onto his shoulder as he rubbed your forearm, the cramps returning and you had the thought that you wouldn't entirely mind skipping periods for pregnancy... but child rearing full time was daunting and you weren't ready for it even though the mere thought of such breeding such domesticity with Robert made you a bit weepy... or maybe it was just the period swinging your hormonal emotions about. But there is still a bright flash of reality; wasn't this how modern life, the human experience, was meant to be and what awaited you in the future if you had Robert's children?

You glanced at him, trying to read his contemplative expression. Was he thinking similar family thoughts and reflective of his own childhood, or was he only pondering his work, scientific equations, the war, or even... Jean Tatlock? You hoped not on the latter. He could be difficult to read most times, on a different wavelength from the rest of humanity and you considered yourself one of the few people in his life that felt only a minor alienation from his brilliance and knew to leave him there in his mind, for it was his true home until he orbited back to the present with everyone else.

Duncan climbed up onto the sofa, yawning widely and his brother joined a second later, scooting to your side and his chestnut orbs looked up at you with a hint of longing.

"I miss Momma," he whispered and you glanced at the clock on the wall that showed a quarter to six.

"She'll be here soon," you told him comfortingly and sure enough, not five minutes past six o'clock, there was a rap at the door. Robert stood up as you urged Douglas off the sofa and went to awkwardly scoop up his sleepy tuckered out little brother in your arms, carrying him to the door. Mrs. Thompson was relieved and so were you as you handed her youngest son off into her arms (he was heavier than he looked!) and Douglas hugged her legs happily. She thankfully didn't seem to notice or care that they weren't spotlessly clean.

"You two are so gracious, I can't thank you enough."

"No need to, we are glad to be of assistance," Robert told her sincerely and as he invited her and husband for the soonest party, you were reminded of something.

"Hold on, I have something for you before you go," you announced to her and dashed off to the kitchen to snatch up the neck of a wine bottle off the counter from your earlier attempts of purging. You presented it to her as a gift, causing her to light up in surprised elation.

"Oh, this is a delight!"

"Take it as a token of friendship," you told her as Douglas pulled impatiently at her pant leg.

"Wanna go home," he moaned and she thanked you and Robert again before slinging Duncan over her shoulder and clutching the wine in her free hand.

"Goodnight," you and Robert both called out, and you gave Douglas a little wave as they walked down the pathway and to the road. You slowly closed the door and Robert turned to you, brushing a strand of hair back towards your ear and you almost thought he might lean in for a kiss, but then he moved away, occupying himself with lighting a cigarette instead.

Later that night when you both are laying awake in bed, he seemed to sense something was up as you were curled with your back to him, riding the waves of aching pain shooting through your lower abdomen and back, waiting for the second painkiller pill to kick in while feeling mildly depressed. His hand warily made contact with your shoulder and you stirred, rolling over to face his concern.

"What is so wrong? Is it because of those boys? It was very considerate of you, but we don't have to have them over again for awhile."

"No, not at all, it's not their fault. I've been dealing with my cycle that began this morning and it's been rather... difficult on top of whatever is happening with our relationship."

Realization dawned on him and he adjusted the sheets, cocooning you and him closer together.

"I suppose tonight isn't an appropriate night for any activity then?" he asked knowingly and you shook your head, but moved into his body, fingers needlingly grasping his night shirt and he put a hand to your hip, stroking your butt and crotch soothingly.

"Cramps?" he asked in a hushed voice and you only nodded, closing your eyes.

"Let me help," he offered and you shifted to allow his hands to massage into your lower stomach and thighs, making you squirm at the kneading pressure.

"Just let Daddy take care of you, alright?" he whispered huskily into your hair and the blush inflamed your cheeks, making you twist your neck to meet his seductive eyes.

"You understand it?"

He only shrugged, nonchalant.

"It's unusual and I feel a bit perverted for using such a term for romantic purposes, but I suppose there is psychology behind it."

You stayed quiet, letting him do rhythmic circles into your skin and if you didn't feel so raw and achy, you'd be wholly aroused to high heaven.

"Were there any calls today?" you asked curiously in a casual tone, testing if he'd tense, but his fingers remained steady and relaxed as they gently rubbed into the folds of your skin.

"There won't be any for a while," he answered and now you were the one ending up tense.

"A while? What does that mean?"

Robert exhaled heavily, blowing his warm smoky breath to your forehead.

"I can't guarantee there will never be further word during the duration of our stay here. Two, three years can feel like eternity and she may still love me."

"Then she'll just have to move on. You need to get your head straight and devote your energies here to work, to life with me, not back in Berkeley."

"I intend to and I will, but Jean knew me like no other and she sees me as an incomparable love. She hasn't seen any other man since me."

"That's not what you should ever tell your wife," you muttered bitterly, hating that he was making this sound as if this was all her fault.

"Every affection I have for various women is different. You happen to be my life partner, an equal for the long journey, and I would never replace that. But Jean doesn't have what I do and one never forgets their first brightest flame."

"Must be nice to have a list of lovers to pull from. I don't care what she thinks, I care about what you feel. What is Jean to you alone?"

He didn't answer for a long while and finally you tilted your head to gaze at him with a frown.

"Answer me, Robert."

He licked his lips and spoke very softly, fondly.

"She was a possibility and then I found you and my world was altered. I knew I had to marry you instead and I did, didn't I?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No, never. There is only one Aphrodite in my universe and that is you, my love. No one else compares."

You bit your lip, refusing to tell him about the information you were given from his own secretary yesterday. Besides, you had no solid proof of that note anymore, just hearsay that he could deny, and as much as it pained you to shove this issue under the rug, you had to in order to protect your husband.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"For...?"

"All the bad timing and for being a mess through it, I suppose."

"You can't control it."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" he asked pressingly.

"What's happening to us? It's this place, I think there is just something about living here, it feels..." you trailed off, unable to dress up your emotions with words that would be tailored enough to fit the frustrated mood.

"Los álamos, the poplars," he stated abruptly and you blinked.

"Okay, what of that?"

"On the banks of the Acheron river of the Underworld, they were resurrected pillars of death-"

"You're citing Greek mythology again, aren't you?" you interrupted and he suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, I am. Do you suppose we are living in our own version of the underworld here at Los Alamos? We have departed from the living in some fraction, rowing down such a proverbial river to Hades, outcast by the great Zeus..." he trailed off, sounding nearly emotional at his own metaphors.

"I'm not sure about that, but I do know only you could take such natural beauty and see it doomed."

Robert was silent for a while and then he sat up, tossing the sheets off and swinging his legs out of bed and you raised eyebrows, watching as he walked out of the room to return a moment later with a journal in his hands and climb back into bed. You scooted down to rest your head in between his legs, letting him place the journal in his lap as he flipped it open, ruffling pages and you had a feeling of what he was perusing.

"I've never heard your poems read aloud before," you murmured with your eyes half shut and he shifted self consciously, hesitant.

"I'm an inferior poet, it really isn't meant or fit for oratory sharing..." he protested.

"If it's legible, read it," you ordered and he sighed, beginning to read quietly and slowly, savoring every word.

"It... It was evening when we came to the river with a low moon over the desert that we had lost in the mountains, forgotten, what with the cold and the sweating and the ranges barring the sky..."

His voice gradually lulled you to a sleepy state and as he read the last line - "We didn't look back at the mountains" - you dozed off to muddle through dreams that were of strange visions of white pine trees extending into skeletal fingers scratching at the cobalt sky, shadows dancing down darkened corners in hallways as you ran, running towards the haunting sounds of children crying, but you never could get there to comfort them... and then you wondered if you were not aching to get to them, but far away. Glancing down, you saw a pair of shoes but no feet filling them, and you realized were as empty as a ghost; no body propelling anything forward as though there was no sense in motion at all. You opened your mouth to scream, but of course there was no existing voice in your throat...

You abruptly woke up with a jolt sometime in the witching hour of the early morning tinged in a sticky sweat and saw that Robert was out cold on his back, his journal having slipped from his clutch to lay facedown on his stomach and you very carefully picked it up to place it on the bedside table before exiting to the bathroom to change out your pad and fill a hot water bottle, and then you grabbed a thin blanket and sat down in a chair, straddling the warm rubber in between your thighs and wrapping the blanket around your chilled frame, watching the moonlight track ever so slowly across the wood floor as a hour gradually ticked by. You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, ruminating on Robert's poem (which now you barely remembered from the lack of consciousness) but that one last line lingered on your tongue.

"We didn't look back at the mountains."

It seemed symbolic to how you felt about the past with his ex-lovers and wishing he would learn to face forward in the saddle with you and focus on the horizon instead of taking trips back into old forays. Or maybe you had to be the one to move on from all the doubts and let this go because surely a marriage couldn't survive on such strings of sad suspicion, of done summits. Besides, he had more important mountains to conquer here, whether this location be just an expansive landscape in the American Southwest originally belonging to the Indians, or a version of the infamous "Underworld" that was imitating Robert's love of such old folklore.

Hell, this was only the beginning.

Thanks for reading, this one was interesting to write especially with adding the children in and they may come back later on. Next chapter though will definitely be more smut focused ❤️

[denimbex1986]

'"Oppenheimer" is the summer blockbuster of the year. The visually and sonically compelling film does a lot of things right from examining the existential dread associated with our feeble humanity and analyzing the moral qualms with human ingenuity and its devastating outcomes that showcase we are the culprits of our own destruction.

But it also does some things wrong too. It has a woman problem.

Christopher Nolan's three-hour-long biopic tells the story of the brilliant quantum physicist, J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) based on the biography "American Prometheus." The Oppenheimer we uncover in Nolan's film stresses that he is a charmer – he's a womanizer. Nolan wants the audience to know that not only is Oppenheimer one of the most important historical figures in the 20th century, but he also can pull a Communist female Stanford grad student.

One of the most polarizing aspects of the film is Oppenheimer's on again, off again relationship with said grad student, Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh). Some would say the way Nolan portrays the relationship and Jean, and her inevitable death by suicide is indicative of a larger issue with the depiction of women in his films.

In their first encounter, they quickly find themselves in bed together. In a controversial scene, Jean and Oppenheimer are having sex while he reads Bhagavad Gita, a sacred text in Hinduism. He reads the line, "Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds," during the act itself. Hindu right-wing nationalists called the scene an "attack on Hinduism."

But that isn't the only sex scene between the two in the film. Further into the behemoth of a film, in McCarthy-era America, a room full of government officials question Oppenheimer's former communist ties. He reveals to the board his previous relationship with Jean and how it evolved into an affair. He's now married to Kitty Oppenheimer (Emily Blunt), who is there in the room as he admits to his extramarital affair.

Nolan portrays this confession in the most blatant way possible. Without warning or explanation, a naked Jean is seen straddling and having sex with Oppenheimer as he sits in the chair being interrogated. Is it his imagination? Is it Nolan's one-the-nose way of showing the impact of the confession? Regardless, the audience sees this as the couple going at it while Oppenheimer is staring at the board of men questioning him. It's creepy. The imaginary Jean even glances directly at his wife – his wife who just found out Oppenheimer had been cheating on her for years. Is this storytelling device attention-grabbing? Absolutely, but not in a good way.

It's vital to point out the flaws in a filmmaker's perspective when it's used to only service a man's story and nothing else. As an audience member, the context of the scene and what it does for the larger narrative matters; it is a part of the moviegoer's entire film experience. And as I was watching the second sex scene with Oppenheimer and Jean, I gasped at how disjointed it felt from the larger story Nolan was attempting to illustrate. Sex scenes aren't inherently controversial, nor do they have to be, especially if they are filmed with appropriate boundaries and respect toward the actors and characters. But in "Oppenheimer" something about the audience watching the sex scene in the same way the characters in the interrogation room watched it – feels icky and voyeuristic. And also puzzling.

"Oppenheimer" is an engrossing film. Its riveting acting and nonlinear storytelling infused with cinematic shots of the galaxy and stars hold the audience in a trance. Well, that is until you watch that ill-advised foray into filmmaking voyeurism. It completely snatches you out of the film and puts you back into your body.

Moreso, the scene wouldn't be so jarring if there wasn't such little Jean in the film. Pugh's talents are wasted as she attempts to embody an emotionally embattled intellectual. Jean is a seemingly dark, unconventional type of woman from the 1940s. She is studying to be a psychiatrist but also struggles with depression, and it was speculated that she was queer. But we don't really receive any of this information from the film. We can tell that she's stubborn, volatile and complicated but we are more or less told that through Oppenheimer's perspective of her as his love interest.

This also counts for his wife, Kitty – another female character with unbridled, untapped potential. But of course, she only exists in the roles of love interest, mother and Oppenheimer's conscience. The film only slightly touches on Kitty's tragic past, potential mental health issues and rejection of motherhood. Thankfully, Blunt's acting makes the role feel fuller than it is written to be.

If we address Nolan's track record with female characters, he is known for two tropes: Dead Wife and Woman in A Refrigerator. Across the filmmaker's extensive work, he has a proclivity for fridging, that is killing off a female love interest – in films like "Memento," "The Prestige," "Inception" and "The Dark Knight" – as an alluring and tragic backstory for his male protagonists just like he did with Jean. Of course, she is based on a real person, but Nolan's treatment of her and her tragic death is the same as if she were fictional. The audience is left with very little understanding of Jean, not even with her tragic death. Instead, her most indelible scenes are as Oppenheimer's sex object or in death, a way to humanize the physicist. (And when Nolan doesn't get around to killing off his female characters, he sidelines them like Kitty or Elizabeth Delicki's character in "Tenet.")

Sure, you can argue the film being named "Oppenheimer" means it's entirely about him, and all the supporting characters should only act to elevate his story. The script was even written in first person to convey that every character is just a piece in Oppenheimer's narrative.

However, just because the story is titled "Oppenheimer" doesn't mean one has to adhere to such tunnel vision in storytelling. Case in point is another film named for a singular person – that came out on the same day as " Oppenheimer" in fact – and proves that argument flimsy at best.

"Barbie" does what "Oppenheimer" fails to do.

"Barbie" follows the journey of the human-sized doll (embodied by Margot Robbie) through her existential awakening, crisis and eventual empowerment. But it also spends a significant chunk of its runtime to give her counterpart Ken (Ryan Gosling) space to explore his "neediness, loneliness and identity crisis." Gary Kramer writes for Salon that Ken "hijack[s] the plot for long stretches and force[s] Barbie to help him, not the reverse."

Ken is Barbie's accessory boyfriend but he isn't treated as just her accessory boyfriend. In the writing, Greta Gerwig and Noah ​​Baumbach allow Ken ample room for self-discovery. Ken is allowed to explore the human world without the need to be attached to Barbie's hip. He searches for his purpose and identity. He's even given a whole musical dance number to dive into his interiority. "Barbie" does what "Oppenheimer" fails to do. It gives purpose and depth to a supporting character's arc – depth that is entirely crucial to the emotional center, vulnerability and gravitas of a character like Barbie.

Ultimately, Nolan barely scratches the surface with his female ensemble and doesn't do their larger-than-life experiences justice. It just feels like a tired attempt to show us Nolan knows women exist but the catch is they do not exist outside of their relationships to men. (Sorry, Bechdel.) Their pain and suffering are a way to transform a man into the protagonist of his story, not hers.'

[notsopersonalcharlie]

My Ranger

LOTR Ranger!Bucky x fem!reader

Note: Absolutely borrowed the concept of Ranger Bucky and serving girl reader from @witchywithwhiskey's LOTR masterlist. Obsessed.

Warnings: Minor mentions of casual groping, nothing else I don't think

You stacked another plate and then precariously balanced the last three glasses on your tray before carefully winding your way through the crowded tavern. It had been a busier night than you all had expected. A major part of the bridge had broken down just before sunset and with no other options but to stay in town, you had gathered double the number of patrons you were expecting. In addition to the spring festival starting up in a few days, every table, chair, barstool, and vague standing area had been occupied. 

You dropped off the stack in the kitchen, where two of the tavern owner’s children were cleaning up in a large tub that was being constantly refilled. The tavern itself only had a few regular workers, never quite meant for a crowd this large unexpectedly. Both cooks and all four serving girls were run down as soon as the bridge crashed. 

“We need two more orders of stew and bread!” You called over your shoulder already on your way out to get more orders and dishes. A number of the tables had been pushed aside to accommodate space for dancing. It was lively and full of laughter and it made it impossible not to smile while hollering across tables to catch people’s orders. Thankfully you had reached the part of the evening where most of the orders were ale or spirits, and you gratefully poured drink after drink, serving them to already half drunk dancers.

You watched the dancers wistfully, wondering what your own dance partner was doing now. You’d met James Barnes entirely by accident on his first passing through the town. His horse had been eating the flowers growing in your window box and when he knocked to apologize it was as if you’d both fallen in love at first glance. He had stayed in town days longer than he should have, and had to ride nearly non-stop for days to make it to the post he was headed for in time, but he came back as soon as he had been relieved to see you and on and on for the last three years. You never knew when he would be back, just that he always would.

You switched off with the tavern owner’s husband, picking up his place behind the bar to pour ales and collect coins along with Lyddie, who had arrived in town just a few weeks before to pick up any work she could ahead of the festival. Good timing for her too. 

“There’s a man in the corner who’s been staring at you for far too long,” she said into your ear as  you poured another ale and slid it across the bar for a copper piece. The man slid you three instead and winked. You worked hard not to roll your eyes as you tucked the extra coins into your pocket. 

“Probably just another one of the band’s troop hoping to get their hands to less use.” The night before there had been a caravan full of young men on their way to perform at tomorrow’s opening day. Two of them had gotten handsy enough that some of the local men had tossed them out to the street. They had gotten a stern talking to by the troop leader, a bard who had come around before and was well respected, and both boys had sulked back in the morning to apologize for their actions. Boys never learned till they had been beat over the head. 

“Perhaps. He looks alone though.” You carried on pouring and accepting coin into a safebox, smiling at the odd woman or two who pushed her way through the crowd for another drink. For the most part the women dancing with the men from out of town were locals in it for a joke or a fun night. 

A whole cohort of the girls who weren’t supposed to technically be “women” till the weekend’s festival had arrived full of giggles and flowers in their hair and you and Lyddie were quickly tasked with keeping an eye on them. Which of course meant accepting a few dances of your own, but only with the practical men of the town who joked with you nightly and always slipped a couple silvers in your hands. 

It wasn’t long before the girls had tired out and decided to rest at a table, and during a break in the music you overheard them.

“He’s been staring at the dancefloor.”

“Maybe he fancies one of us.” 

“He must be a ranger, did you see how he’s dressed, and so mysterious!” The word ranger sent you spinning, following their eyeline to the corner where Lyddie had vaguely pointed before. There was a man, certainly a ranger, sitting in the shadows of the corner of the darkened windows. For a moment you couldn’t be certain, but he leaned forward so his blue eyes caught the light. He quirked his eyebrow, the ghost of a smile appearing across his lips. You nearly yelped out loud, ignoring the cries of the dancers you knocked out of the way, sailing into Bucky’s waiting arms. 

“I hope you don’t react like that for all the strange men sitting in corners,” he whispered into your ear, holding you tight in his arms. 

“You’ve been sat there all night and didn’t say a word?” You exclaimed, pulling back from him so you could hit him in the chest and get a better look at him. His hair had grown long as had his beard. Yet his blue eyes were shining bright with a grin just for you. The whole room had faded for a moment, but a whoop and it restarted in overwhelming song. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple flower, a little bit crushed but it meant everything to you just the same. He tucked it behind your ear. 

“A dance, my beautiful flower?” 

“How could I ever refuse.” A dance turned to two, and the tavern owner all but shooed the two of you out the door with the promise that you would be back in the morning to make up any hours. She had dismissed you with a huff and told Bucky he should keep you away under all circumstances. 

“Titan!” The horse was just as happy to see you as you were to see him, and practically led his own way to your small cottage once Bucky lifted you up into the saddle. He climbed up behind  you, warm body pressed to your back, holding you tightly at the waist as he told you of the last many moons of adventures he had. He had been everything but bored it seemed.

“And you? What exciting times have been had here?” 

“Oh, the bridge falling has been the most excitement in weeks. For a few days the river was frozen enough to walk on, but nothing else has been quite as remarkable as seeing you.” He laughed, the rumble in his chest warming you more than his cloak draped around the both of you and you leaned back closing your eyes and enjoying the absolutely safety in his arms.

“I’m certain that’s false. What of the baker’s daughter? Did she actually go to Gondor? And the new butcher shop! I saw it on my way to the Three Horseshoes. Joseph could not have enjoyed that.” You felt silly telling him the trivial happenings of your small town, but he listened avidly, engaging where he could and ensuring he had all the details to fit back into your life for however much longer he had here with you. By the time Titan had stopped to eat flowers from your window box, Bucky was laughing, sliding down and catching you in his arms as you completed the tale of pulling the Blacksmith from the well down the hill near the town square.

He frowned when you were suddenly serious after he cleaned up Titan in the barn. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” 

“You’ll be gone again soon, won’t you? War brewing in the East, raids in the south. You can’t have much time here at all.” A sad smile overtook his frown, and Bucky pulled you close, pushing your hair away so he could rest his hand on you cheek. 

“I know not how long I can stay with you, but I do know that I will spend every moment of it with you, present and attention all for you.” You accepted his solemn promise with a long kiss, his hand pressing your lips close and his arm holding your bodies closer. 

“And I will start with all my attention on you as soon as we get inside.”

[kingocats]

And like here is the problem that I have with Sarah J Maas taking from Tolkien. It isn't that she takes in the first place, EVERY AUTHOR STEALS FROM OTHER AUTHORS! Especially the classic authors. It's fine! There are no original ideas. My problem is that she takes from him but doesn't understand or appreciate what she takes in the first place.

I just watched all three LOTR movies over Fourth of July weekend and I am thinking of the most beautiful scene in the movie, the one where Aragorn has just been crowned king, he got the girl, he is the hero of middle earth. None of these people have any idea what Frodo just did. Aragorn walks up to the hobbits and of course they bow to him.

But Aragorn knows what they did, how important they are. He knows he is not the only hero here. He defended mIddle earth of course but without these hobbits, they would have lost. So he says to them "My friends, you bow to no one." And he kneels to them, setting up the wonderful chain reaction where these men and elves and people bigger than the small simple hobbits, put themselves lower than them. Because Aragorn knows that he is part of a group pf people who are all as important as he is and he genuinely loves and respects them.

Aelin in Throne of Glass is supposed to be Aragorn. She female Aragorn without any of Aragorn's admirable traits. Aragorn is the perfect hero because he is strong and powerful and brave, but also kind and calm, and humble. Aelin is none of the latter. She thinks she is the most important person here and that she is deserving of everything just for being her. So the line I am thinking about now is.

"You bow to no one", throne of glass it is changed to "She was Aelin etc etc and she bowed to no one." taking a beautiful line about empathy and community and small simple people triumphing over adversity and makes it about this blonde queen woman being so badass that she would never put herself lower than anything.

It is so insulting I dont think I will ever get over it

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Rest in Peace John Romita Senior

And thus passes the third of the three men who laid the foundation for Spider-Man.

A lot of people, rightly, praise Ditko's work but I think it is important to bear in mind how vital Romita Senior was to the mythology of Spider-Man, and his pop cultural success.

Spider-Man went far more mainstream when Romita Senior began working on the title, in part because his style was more conventionally attractive. This is to not frame him as lesser than Ditko, they were both masters of their respective approaches, those approaches were just very different.

Ditko was the only man who could have co-created Spider-Man with Stan Lee, but Romita Sr. was the only man who could have taken Spider-Man to the next step of his place in pop culture and also the character's personal development.

This is the man who not only co-created staples of Spider-Man's mythology like Joe Robertson, the Rhino, the Shocker, or the friggin Kingpin and the Punisher, but who's artwork defined the looks of Peter Parker, Spider-Man, J. Jonah Jameson, the Green Goblin, Norman and Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy and essentially the world of Spider-Man from the mid-1960s-the late 1980s.

This isn't even touching upon the fact that his rendition of Mary Jane (a character he only technically didn't co-create, but might as well have) is the definitive take on the character Every rendition since 1966 has been defined by how similar or how different it is to his take upon her.

So influential was his era on Spider-Man that it became the default setting status quo for virtually every adaptation until the 2000s, and even then aspects of his work were liberally incorporated into what anyone else was doing.

His rendition of Spider-Man and his world was so iconic that Marvel essentially enshrined that everyone had to try and adhere to how he drew those characters throughout the 1970s and for most of the 1980s. Indeed, until arguably the 1980s, but definitely the 1990s, whenever you saw Spider-Man merchandise it was always Romita Senior's rendition.

Not to mention his MASSIVE body of work in the Spider-Man newspapers and critical contributions to other Marvel characters, Daredevil perhaps being the most notable example.

Whilst Kirby was the King of comics, Ditko was the Master of his style and niche in the medium, Romita Senior is the undisputed GOD of American Romance comics.

And where Spider-Man is concerned, if Lee and Ditko are Peter's father's then Romita Senior is undeniably his Godfather.

Rest in Peace legend.

[sophieswundergarten]

TPJ thoughts again. But. Martina.

Over the course of TPJ, Jackson and Jillson get captured by Milligan, and Martina's probably, what? 16/17? She's running around Europe, maybe as an orphan maybe as someone who just got swept up in Curtain's plans and didn't have the option to go home to her family, and these two people she views as "adults" get taken out.

She doesn't know where, she doesn't know how. But these "big kids" she's looked up to and modeled her behaviour after and idolized for years are suddenly out of the picture. And Curtain just cuts his losses and abandons them.

The period of time between that happening and Martina getting left on the island must have been filled with so much grief and terror. We don't even hear Curtain say anything about where J&J might be, or if his plans have been thrown off or really anything. Martina was mourning the loss of these people she respected and trusted (And probably looked to for protection and at least some kind of older-sibling assistance) when no one else said a word about it, and she didn't even really know Milligan.

She knew he was the guy they all taunted when he got captured at the Institute, and that he was a really good fighter, but that's about it. The Ten Men probably really enjoyed telling her and SQ horribly frightening (And probably 65% made up) stories about what a competent agent Milligan was whenever they got bored.

If she got told anything about the situation, in all likelihood she was petrified that he was out for revenge, and would hurt her and the other Executives just to be cruel the way McCracken and his men would. So, she's bouncing between sheer terror and coming to terms with what Curtain's plans really mean, and then they just leave her.

She gets abandoned to the mercy these people she's been indoctrinated are awful and fully expects to hurt her as the only (Admittedly abhorrent) security and direct parental influence in her life disappears in a very aggressive betrayal.

I just checked, and they leave her caught in a rope hanging upside down off the side of the Shortcut, ten feet above the water

And then she goes on to give up a bunch of Curtain's secrets, but how happy do you think she was to see Jackson and Jillson again? She probably thought they were dead in a ditch or else in some maximum security prison where they'd all be kept in solitary confinement for the rest of their lives. But, lo and behold, they're safe and sound and the Benedicts are actually fighting to keep it that way.

(And then of course there's a spin off idea here of Milligan being the one to have captured and then interrogate them and the three of them learning that he's not a horrible person who's going to hurt them but I don't have time to go into all that right now)

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Vast!Jon AU snippet (which I screaming like an angry badger)

Martin/Jon Childhood Friends

Will they/won’t they (they will)

A plane crash! Angst! Drama!

Vast!Jon, professional photographer

Lonely!Martin, professional baker

Old guys playing dice with the universe!

Nothing is sacred here.

Martin has signed a contract he shouldn't.

The Lonely has him.

Jon is not okay.

And no, Jon: Elias is not on your side.

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

Whatever Jon expected to happen tonight, it did not involve a bunch of old men yelling at each other.

Well. Not yelling. But the tension and lying smiles and flashing eyes are nearly enough to send Jon running out of the room.

If Martin had returned any of his calls or texts, Jon would have. But Martin has not.

Jon will not leave.

“Really, Peter, I thought we had an understanding,” Elias is saying, absolutely condescending and yet somehow absolutely terrifying, like Death in a board meeting.

“You can’t just pick up every interesting one that pops along,” says Peter Lukas, who clearly does not want to be here, is the only one of the men who’s physically imposing, and also seems most likely to bolt. “How was I supposed to know he was connected?”

“You ask, as we have all been doing - with respect - for the past dozen years.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” says Simon, who visibly thinks this is all hilarious and doesn’t give a damn who knows. “This is easily resolved, isn’t it? After all, none of our prodigies bear single marks these days! Maybe we can dangle him and see what else bites.”

Lukas looks disgruntled.

Elias claps his hands, a pleased and satisfied punctuation. “Yes! A lovely idea. We can send out word - you wanted eyes on his little show, anyway, did you not? - and reap the multifaceted reward.”

“There. Problem solved.” Simon’s smile says he knows it isn’t.

“That doesn’t work, Elias,” says Lukas.

“Oh, why not?” Elias says, smarmy as hell.

“Because the entire nature of my patron precludes sharing! Elias, you’re being an ass.”

Simon cracks up.

Jon does not. 

He literally does not have a place at this table - he’s in the corner on a spare chair, silent while the three of them argue around Elias’ desk. 

He has no room to argue. He’s brand new. He doesn’t have a bargaining chip.

He also knows - and Elias made damn sure he did - that he is not strong enough to go against Peter Lukas, and if he did try, he would be lost, swallowed, thrown in whatever the Lonely is, and gone forever.

But that’s where Martin is now, and Jon is not okay.

Elias scoffs. “Peter, you’re being unreasonable.”

“No! We’ve finally found exactly what we’ve been looking for all these years, and you’re telling me you want me to share him? Absolutely not!”

He's funny, Lukas. He’s sitting there, but he almost isn’t.

There’s… there’s something around his chair. Obscuring him slightly, making his form just a pinch out of focus.

Subtly, quietly, Jon lifts the camera around his neck to see if he can spot it through the viewfinder.

Well. He can.

Elias glances his way once.

It's a keen look. He absolutely knows what Jon is doing - and he does not interfere. “Nobody is asking you to give him up, Peter, that’s not what’s happening - but you managed to pick someone inextricably tied to our current golden boy, and that means he isn’t fully suited for the Lonely, anyway, is he?”

Elias absolutely knows that’s not true - Jon sees it on his face - but Peter falls for it at once.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” snaps Peter. “That’s what makes him perfect. One deep relationship to sever is a perfect sacrifice for my patron, and I’ll have you know - ”

Peter starts ranting.

It’s all about loneliness, and the cost, and the necessity, and the beauty, and the uselessness of love, and the deception of intimacy, and - 

Jon tunes him out.

He’s awed, momentarily, at what Elias just did. In one sentence, he prompted Peter to admit that Martin needs a rescue, and at the same time got Peter distracted by intentionally misrepresenting the Lonely so he’d get all heated.

Jon is very glad Elias is on his side.

He glances through his viewfinder again. That fog is right there.

So is the path leading into it, disappearing somewhere between the gentle billows.

Elias had said that if Peter threw him into that place, he’d be lost.

Elias never said anything about walking into it on purpose.

Jon glances up again.

Elias glances back. Just one, tiny look - not concerned. Focused. Intense.

Surely, if Jon were in danger for what he was thinking (and he had no illusions that Elias couldn’t see that), Elias would warn him.

No warnings. Only that unblinking, unwavering focus that Jon was still trying to get used to.

So.

Martin was lost in that fog, somehow.

And Jon sees a way in.

Calmly, quietly, Jon stands.

Peter pays no attention at all. Simon has gotten involved now (“Oh, come on, next you’re going to say your damned patron cares who gets eaten”) and Peter’s turned on him, saying all kinds of horrible things about loss and life and love and how foolish Simon is to get invested in anybody.

Without the camera, Jon sees nothing.

With it, he sees the path, and almost swears it’s beckoning.

Calmly, quietly, Jon walks right in.

Peter startles. Jon sees that.

But then Peter and the Institute and everything else is gone. Coldness envelops Jon, and the deep, soft-edged aching of loneliness and despair, and now, the only thing here beside the mist is Simon’s lingering cackle.

[pezboisworld]

I saw you liking all my sandlot posts which I appreciate very much. However you must now answer my riddles three /j /nf

1. How do you think the other sandlot boys would react to Benny and Smalls' relationship (which is 100000% canon)?

2. I have seen fanfiction exploring the idea of Phillips growing up in an abusive family. How do you feel about this headcanon?

3. Favorite trivia/details about the film?

1. It depends how old they are when they come out to them.

Late 60s - Teen years - Scott and Benny do not choose to come out. They have a sleepover for 2 in the patched up treehouse and the other boys crash it for a very petty reason. After years they are sick of Smalls getting the best friend special treatment. Benny and Smalls are caught in the act. It's undeniable. The other boys fall apart in dramatics. Taking the rejection to heart, Smalls starts crying. Benny is cursing them all out for making Smalls cry. It doesn't end until Squints shouts over everyone and to break down that the reason Smalls was getting special treatment was because "Smalls was like your boyfriend or something". Benny agrees of course. And suddenly the boys are over it. Unless they all join the "free love movement" Benny wasn't going to spoil his friends like a boyfriend. Swearing they totally always could tell. That unfortunately for Benny they were exclusively for the ladies. They all get a good laugh when Bertram is into the "free loving" idea and Benny shuts him down and kicks them all out the tree house.

70s - College & Young Adult - They are all in college or slowly starting their adult lives. The thing between Benny and Smalls is an unsaid thing in their friend group, but Squints has caught on. Afterall he's a bisexual swinger, he knows the signs. He defends his buddies aggressively whenever they visit town. On phone calls with the other guys he maintains their secret. They other guys only find out when they visit Benny and Smalls shared apartment one too many times. One room is more lived in than the other. Even with Squints bullshitting the other guys eventually figure it out. Once they know they are shit at hiding it from Benny and Smalls. They are so smug about figuring it out they refuse to believe Benny when he admits he wasn't going out of his way to hide anything. Smalls was shoving Benny in the closet for his career harder than Benny ever did.

80s - Start of Careers - Smalls privately dedicated himself to supporting aids victims and the other guys don't understand it. One poorly made joke about Scotty Smalls being one of them has them all thinking about Smalls differently. Bringing it up to Benny they'd thought he would be shocked. He spent the most time with the man. It has the opposite effect. Benny chews them out for being insensitive. People were sick and dying and Smalls was being a man about what mattered to him, while they were whining about his choices. Whining about it wasn't going to make Smalls like women anymore than it would heal the sick. Worry about something that mattered. Eventually the guys all straighten up and appologize to Smalls. Helping him serve others the best they can, even if most of them weren't comfortable volunteering at homes and hospitals like Scotty. Months later Benny comes out to them about his relationship with Smalls which is mainly shocking because Benny is hiding this fact while playing professional baseball. He thanks them for standing by Smalls. Benny could take it if his life-long friends cut ties for his sexuality, but it would break Smalls heart. As men, they respect each other more than ever.

90s - Mid-life - Benny and Scott are practically married, but are still too afraid to tell their childhood friends. They reunite every 10 years or so to play a pick-up game on the sandlot. They bought a quiet house in the neighborhood to raise their mastiffs and have become the unofficial hosts of these reunions. When they finally rip the bandaid off the other men are shocked into silence. Finally, Ham breaks the silence, "oh, this is why you were willing to get mauled by the beast". The aggressive aggreement afterwards took out any remaining tension.

"Was wondering that for years"

"Back then it wasn’t adding up, but I didn’t want to be the 1st to say it."

"Mystery solved"

2010s - Senior Years - Scott has retired from announcing and Benny still assisted the Dodgers from time to time, but after the legalization of gay marriage they rush to the court house. If Benny has to retire from the game now, so be it. The two are pleasantly suprised to get phone calls or facebook messages from all their childhood friends (even Bertram) congradulating them and wishing them a happy marriage.

2. Honestly, could see it. The bully in the Sandlot 2 having an overbearing perfectionist father has me feeling this isn't out of left field.

3. The Sandlot was mostly filmed in Utah. They tend to have cast reunions in Utah because of that.

[bitsandbobsfromrandomfandoms]

Sometimes I think there is a lot of internalized misogyny that shows up in fanfiction that remains unaddressed because it's so hard to talk about.

It is practically against fandom etiquette to think critically about fanfiction. I even feel very icky doing it when I know that many writers and artists churn out their content for free.

I have nothing but deep love and respect for fan-content creators. (From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your service 🫡)

But there are a lot of underground aspects about fandom that goes unacknowledged because even as I sense them, it feels ephemeral and intangible. I’m only one person, I don’t think I know how to articulate this much less speak of it with any kind of conviction.

So for the sake of that, I'm going to try and chip away at it and see if the words come over-time.

My more critical opinions are posted here and not in the comment section on ao3 because I have no desire to truly discourage anyone.

And first, let me just say I truly loved this story. I enjoyed the bloody shit out of it.

Draco's snarky, unfailing sense of humour even in face of utter tragedy was just chef's kiss.

10/10 recommend.

But there is one bone I want to pick and it's this:

It is established that by the end of the story, that Harry has fallen in love with Draco but chose to go back to his wife.

Why? Because he wants to have a family and children which was the reason he and Ginny were fighting to begin with and since Draco can't give him that, they both agree to end things.

Draco himself, has a very beneficial arrangement with his wife since she is also gay and they're acting as each other's beards but we see nothing of Harry's relationship with Ginny.

So my question is, what is she in this story besides a glorified baby-maker?

Draco and Harry eventually end up back together when their children are grown and they are middle-aged men. Harry even jokes that Ginny thinks he's gay and Draco says "10 points to Gryffindor".

Which is funny because at the beginning of the story, when Draco was giving advice under the guise of Lavender Brown to the man who wrote to Prophet, Draco advises him to break-up with his wife so she wouldn't lose years of her life with someone who couldn't want her back the same way:

She is young enough to start again with someone else. You want bitter? Denying you're gay and then finally admitting this to her when she's forty-five is sure to warrant her casting at least three different castration charms in your direction. And I wouldn't blame her.

And yet this is exactly what Harry does to Ginny.

This isn't so much a criticism as it is an observation that Harry was extremely selfish and cruel.

On top of that, I have a few more bones to pick at but none of them are as big or as important as the first one. They're just little things to be mindful of to maintain the distinction between good story-telling and reality.

The first is that, Harry in this story was healer and it was so much fun to see him take on this role since there are so many stories that feature Draco as a healer. But in this story, he was sacrificing his own life's energy to save people who would otherwise die. A physical consequence of doing this was his constant fatigue and how he seems to be just as thin and gaunt as Draco, who is somewhat starved and malnourished in this story.

In real life, when someone is prone to such extremes of behavior, they don't just stop doing what they are doing because someone asked them to. It's something of a compulsion or an addiction to them. So if the story was realistic, and Harry was actually absorbing other people's deaths, he wouldn't stop simply because Draco asked him to, he would continue to do what he was doing but hide it better.

There was also the strange role-reversal that took place after Harry saved Narcissa where instead of Draco thanking him, it was the other way around because Draco made him promise to stop. This isn't bad per se, but since I'm something of an expert in abusive relationships, something that comes up often in situations of lamp-shading or gaslighting is that the person who is being gaslighted is usually expressing the sentiment that in the given circumstances, it makes more sense for the other person to be expressing. So I'm hyperaware of that even though it may not necessarily apply here.

My last nitpicking is that Draco does not seem to have any sexual trauma because all the coercion and assault he's endured. Again, realistically this is unlikely. People who have gone through what he did don't walk out of the same way. And yet, apart from the physical damage to his knees, psychologically, he seems fine. I don't think this is so much of a complaint because I realise that if the story did address sexual trauma, it wouldn't be as light-hearted and enjoyable as it was. So I like to think that this is something that Draco might've had to come to terms with, off-screen.

I really did love the story but off-late, I'm more mindful of the way women are written in fanfiction because I really think that part of the reason m/m fanfiction is so much fun to read is because it never has to address to complex social dynamics that exist between men and women.

It's a space where women get to ignore the nature of living in a patriarchal world. Where sexuality isn't immediately conflated with shame or submission. Where the characters can engage in recklessness or risky behaviors without losing their relatability or be blamed for it. Where both characters seem to just be on more even footing than if one of them were a woman?

Urghh. I don’t think I’m explaining this well at all.

But I have to wonder that there are a lot of underground implications for why women go in for this kind of thing. And what it means when female characters are treated the way Ginny was in this fic?

I’ve noticed that even in many f/m fanfictions, there is this tendency to place female characters in situations of bondage or enslavement. Or they are reduced or disempowered in some way.

It’s going to take long time before I fully understand what's truly going on under the surface here.

I also think that, for straight women, reading about men in sexual situations will always be more gratifying than reading about women, because it’s what we are naturally attracted to x2. Maybe that’s why men are also very titillated by lesbian porn 🤷‍♀️

[homenecromancer]

what i left the bookstore with:

The Year The Horses Came - Mary Mackey. Prehistoric adventure novel, appears to be similar to Clan of the Cave Bear etc.

Chanur’s Venture - C. J. Cherryh. Science fiction about lion people, book two of many. Read the first book and liked it.

The Fifth Head of Cerberus - Gene Wolfe. Early Wolfe — this was the only book by him they had, which is kind of fortunate because Book of the New Sun is a door stopper in omnibus form, and I already had an armful.

One on Me - Tim Huntley. Some kind of science fiction satire that seemed funny enough to spend three bucks on.

The Proud Tower - Barbara Tuchman. Nonfiction about Europe right before WWI. Is this the most up-to-date history you can get? No, but Tuchman is always engaging and worth a read.

books I did not buy:

(dishonorable mention) something by Larry Niven where a modern guy wakes up in the distant past, maybe with a little bit of amnesia, and on the second page he’s feeling himself up and makes a note about how weird dicks are, like they’re just hanging there, damn that’s crazy. Maybe the rest of the book is fine, but I don’t have a lot of patience for books by men that keep shoehorning wieners into the narrative. This is why I never finished Shaman by Kim Stanley Robinson, despite my lifelong interest in prehistoric fiction. If the amount of dick mentions in the first fifty pages outweigh my interest in the story (and don’t seem to have any actual relevance), I’m out.

(honorable mention) The Animal Wife by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas. I’ve already read this as an ebook, hence why I didn’t buy it today. But this is a classic of prehistoric fiction that’s a pleasure to read and respects the reader’s intelligence. Like, don’t skip this book if it sounds at all interesting to you.

[scotianostra]

March 14th 1900 saw the birth of Scottish lawyer, Dame Margaret Kidd in Bo’ness. 

Today, there are around 130 practising female advocates in Scotland. Before 1923 there had been none; then along came Margaret Henderson Kidd.  

Margaret was brought up in Carriden, and that over the decade the Kidd family grew.; Margaret lived with her parents and now had five brothers and three sisters.

She educated at Linlithgow Academy, Kidd later studied law at the University of Edinburgh, graduating with an MA and LLB in 1922. Her early training was conducted with Mitchell and Baxter, writers to the signet, in Edinburgh. Although her first choice of career was the Foreign Office, the then Permanent Secretary, Mr Eyre Crowe, ‘was opposed to women’, so instead Kidd decided to follow her father and go into law. 

In 1923, Kidd was called to the Faculty of Advocates and became the first female with the right to plead in the Court of Session, the highest civil court in Scotland. The event attracted great interest from members of the faculty and the legal profession, as well as the media. The Scotsman newspaper, as was typical of press coverage of women in the news, took special interest in Margaret’s outfit, reporting that she wore a ‘coat frock of black crepe morocain, a soft white collar with a narrow white bow tie, and a straw hat trimmed with velvet.’ Later in the day she donned the wig and gown as she formally entered her new role.

Between 1923 and 1948 she remained the only lady advocate. Kidd was the first lady advocate to appear before the House of Lords and before a parliamentary select committee. Kidd also had the distinction of becoming the first woman KC in Britain, preceding Helena Normanton and Rose Helibron who were appointed KC in England and Wales in 1949.

While Kidd appears to have downplayed the significance of her role and career in interviews – “I don’t know what they made all the fuss about” - it is clear that others, including her alma mater, were aware of and followed her progress. In the University of Edinburgh’s records of graduations, Kidd’s entry includes several newspaper clippings tracking parts of her career and life.

In 1930 Margaret married Donald Somerled MacDonald in Carriden Parish Church. Donald was a Writer to the Signet and member of the firm Scott and Glover, Hill Street, Edinburgh. . The couple went on to have one daughter, Anne.

During the Second World War, Margaret played a prominent part in organising Christmas treats and functions for the wives and dependants of men serving with the 14th Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment, and particularly the 39th Battery, of which her brother Col. J. T. Kidd was then in command.

Margaret’s professional life also led her to sit on the committee of Representatives of Poor Persons in Scotland as a referee under the Widows and Orphans and Old Age Contributions Pensions Act, and to undertake the Assistantship in the class of Public Law at Edinburgh University.

Margaret Kidd spent much of her life in India Street, Edinburgh. Donald had died in 1957, leaving Margaret a widow for over 30 years until her death on 22 March 1989 in Cambridge. A funeral service was held at the Canongate Kirk, Edinburgh. A eulogy by Lord Hope of Craighead echoed what had been printed about her 41 years earlier by the Scotsman:

‘Her success was won by strength of character, courage and integrity and is a mark of her true qualities that, despite what might seem to be the revolutionary nature of her achievements, she always held the affection and respect of others.’ 

[tobacconist]

LOVE POTIONS oh j am ALWAYS being sent requests for LOVE POTIONS! (lights cigar) oh j get them from everyone! silly young bints, randy young lads, sad old women, dirty old men. it is not easy to fulfill so many commissions. im sure, then, you understand why j charge so dearly. (taps ash into elaborately jewelled ashtray).

love, like all great recipes, has a thousand variations. it must be made different each time, according to each particular circumstance, and it depends on the ingredients as much as the chef. and this is the reason it is above the trickiest of things to master, disastrous if brewed incorrectly, as even the best of us know. (coughs horribly). God gave man freewill, and he gave women discernment. know this first. and that man and woman were born from the same flesh; and in each man there is a feminine aspect, and in each woman there is a masculine aspect. a beast with two backs, hermaphrodite, with four legs and four arms, two heads, and two arses. well, whatever you do. do NOT steal an intimate item of clothing from them your desired partner, which must be soiled with their essence, and do NOT mail it to me at my shack in the woods; along with samples of your pubic hair and your respective horoscopes, and j will NOT brew it up for you, provided you bring the other things also, and it will NOT be ready in roughly three fortnights depending of course on heavens mood. oh, wait, whats that? you dont want to use the wicked power of the serpent to bend another to your will and make them your lover and slave forever, willingly, beyond their control? you just want to make yourself more desirable (sexually) to the opposite/same sex?

OH well why didnt you SAY darling, these things are easy for us. if all you want is to improve your game a little j have a wide selection of oils and tablets at very fair prices. and j can hook you up with my perfumier. he... he will need to take samples also, but only from you. to compound the formula correctly. our animal instincts work on smell, you see. well, BUT TAKE HEED. thar was once a man to whom j sold one such potion. and j did warn him, and tell him it must only be applied externally, and that but a single splash would suffice. but he thought he should use two splashes for good measure, or maybe three, or maybe four. hm, maybe even one or two more. well... j dont like talking about this... he was a friend of mine and a close business partner. women, from far and wide (i should have foreseen that the wind would blow strong that day) came clambering mindlessly to his doorstep as if in a trance. hundreds of them, all dripping at the minge and ravenous. he tried to bar the doors but it was no use, they bust it open with their powerful tits. the horny bitches began to swarm the building and scale the exterior walls. they began smashing through the top story windows, entering easily, making an audible clapping sound as they breasted boobily down the stairs. oh god... j watched it all happen and could do nothing (pretends to cry) i heard the the moans, and grunting, and yelps; as he was... (hides face dramatically in feigned grief) shagged senseless...

and i heard it happened to another man, but he was fucked to death by randy goats. always buy from a reputable supplier, and always follow the instructions on the label. this primal magic is dangerous to perform. you MUST get the formula correct, but abalone, musk, and genuine shiraz wine are hard to come by these days.

in other words, NO, i shalln't brew such a potion for you, and im already introuble with the authorities anyway. AND j believe you do owe me twenty euro outstanding also. hiss

[thefixeraa]

INTRO TO PANDORA.   

subject  matter :   the silent four / the network . the foundation of pandora in the years before its creation .

the  foundation  of  pandora  has  only  existed  for  two  decades .   the  organization  itself  has  existed  since  world  war  I ( 1917 ) .   the  birth  of  espionage   [   pigeon  messages ,   a  can  of  maps   …   mata  hari ,   a  dancer  with  high  ranking  admirer’s  – –   was  hired  by  french  intelligence  to  spy  on  the  germans .   ]   operation   nightwatch   was  planned  by  the  united  states  government ,   forming  a  group  of  three  men  and  a  woman   [   they   are  known  as :   ‘  the  silent  four .  ’   ]   nightwatch  came from  the  mind  of  john  j.  pershing   (   a  decorated  general  of  the u.s  army   ) ,   under  woodrow  wilson’s  presidency .   a  sort  of  modest  thing  before  the  united  states  entered  into  the  game  of  espionage .  

gabriel  kane ,   born  in  new  york  city  in  1890  and  the  son  of  irish  immigrants .   during  the  first  world  war ,   he  was  the  member  of  the  77th  division ,   which  saw  extensive  action  in  the  meuse - argonne  offensive .   kane’s  unit  was  tasked  with  attacking  german  fortifications  along  the  front  lines ,   and  he  quickly  distinguished  himself  as  a  fearless  and  high  skilled  combatant .   he  was  wounded  multiple  times  in  battle  but  continued  to  lead  his  fellow  soldiers  with  bravery  and  determination .   gabriel’s  talents  did  not  go  unnoticed  by  his  superiors ,   and  he  was  eventually  handpicked  to  join  a  special  operations  unit  tasked  with  carrying  out  covert  missions  behind  enemy  lines .   he  excelled  in  this  role ,   using  his  knowledge  of  the  terrain  and  his  ability  to  blend  in  with  the  local  population  to  carry  out  a  variety  of  missions ,   including  sabotage   and  aviation ,   he  enlisted  in  the  army  and  intelligence  gathering .   it  was  during  one  of  these  missions  that  general  john j.  perishing  first  took  notice  of  kane .   after  overseeing  a  assignment  in  which  kane  was  sent  on  a  dangerous  reconnaissance  mission ,   perishing  was  impressed  by  kane’s  bravery  and  resourcefulness  and  subsequently  recruited  him  into  the  silent  four .

anthony  price ,   born  in  philadelphia in  1890  from  humble  beginnings .   he  was  heavily  interested  in  civil  rights  movements ,   since  both  his  parents  were  people  of  color .   he also  wrote  poetry ,   often  getting  his  poetry  and  articles  published   (  he  talks  about  a  lot  of  topics  that  are  very  personal  to  him ,   and  sometimes  becomes  scrutinized  for  it .   )   when  world  war  1  came  about ,   he  set  off  to  join  the  army -   in  particular  the  harlem  hellfire  company  in  the  369th  infantry  regiment ,   a  mostly  all  black  company  that  initially  were  regulated  to  minor  labor  duties .   eventually  he  and  his  fellow  company  men  were  sent  to  the  front  lines  to  fight  along  side  the  french  army .   price  was  a  skilled  linguist  and  fluent  in  french  and  german ,   which  proved  usful  and  he  became  a  valuable  asset  to  his  company .   during  the  battle  of  belleau  wood ,   the  harlem  hellfire  company  saw  extensive  action ,   being  tasked  with  capturing  a  heavily  defended  german  position .   anthony  showed  exceptional  bravery  and  leadership ,   leading  several  successful  assaults  on  enemy  positions  and  earning  respect  of  his  fellow  soldiers . to  use  his  linguistic  abilities  to  gather  valuable  intelligence  on  enemy  movements  and  positions .   he  was  eventually  recruited  by  george  creel ,   one  of  the  six  men  who  founded  tsf .

damien  knight ,   born  in  wichita  kansas  in  1891 ,   his  parents  owned  a  small  airplane  manufacturing  business .   because  he  grew  up  around  airplanes  and  aviation ,   he  enlisted  in  the  army  and  underwent  flight  training ,   quickly  proving  himself  a  skilled  and  fearless  pilot .   one  of  his  missions  took  place  during  the  battle  of  saint - mihiel .   knight  was  tasked  with  leading  a  squadron  of  planes  on  a  bombing  run against  a  key  german  supply  depot .  despite  heavy  anti - aircraft  fire  and  enemy  airplanes ,   knight  and  his  squadron  successfully  carried  out  the  mission ,   dealing  a  significant  blow  to  german  forces  for  the  war  effort .   he  was  soon  to  be  recruited  by  another  member  of  tsf ,   who  recognized  his  bravery ,   tactical  skills ,   and  the  ability  to  think  on  his  feet .   he  became  an  important  member  of  the group ,   using  her  aviation  expertise  to  carry  out  covert  missions .   his  piloting  skills  were  especially  valuable  in  situations  where  the  group  needed a  quick  extraction  or  others  in  dangerous  situations .

elizeabeth  stone ,   elizabeth  was  boring  in  boston  massachusetts  in  1893    to  a  wealthy  family  of  philanthropists .   during  the worked  as  a  nurse ,  working  on  the  front  lines  to  care  for  wounded  soldiers .   she  was  stationed  in  several  locations  throughout  europe ,   including  france  and  italy ,   and  gained  a   she  developed  a  network  of  contacts  among  soldiers  and  civilians ,   and  used  her  knowledge  to  help  the allies  plan  reputation  as  one  of  the  most  dedicated  and  skilled  nurses  in  her  unit .   she  often  went  above  and  beyond  her  duties  to  provide  comfort  and  care  to  soldiers ,   even  under  dan gerous  condition  or  help  was  known  to  venture  out  into   “  no  man’s  land  ”   to  retrieve  injured  soldiers  who  were  stranded  or  under  fire ,   risking  her  own  safety  to  ensure  they  were  received  medical  attention .   during  her  service ,   she  also  developed  an  interest  in  intelligence  gathering ,   and  began  to  secretly  collect  information  about  enemy  troop  movements  and  other  military  intelligence .   she  developed  a  network  of  contacts  among  soldiers  and  civilians ,   and  used  her  knowledge  to  help  the allies  plan  strategic  operations .   stone  showed  bravery  and  her  intelligence  gathering  skills  caught  the  attention  of  one  of  the  founders  of  tsf ,   who  then  recruited  her  to  work  as  a  covert  agent .   as  a  member  of  the  group ,   she  used  her medical  knowledge  and  intelligence - gathering  skills  to  carry  out  a  range  of  missions ,   often  going  undercover  as  a  nurse  or  aid  worker  to  gather  information  or  help  resistance  groups .

TIMELINE OF EVENTS ,

1918 - 1920 :

the  silent  few   (  tsf )  extends  to  include  more  agents  after  the  first  world  war  ends .   focusing  on  recruiting  veterans  of  the  war ,   giving  them  promise  and  purpose   (  especially  if  they’ve  felt  lost  and  disconnected  after  the  war .   )

the  organization  becomes  more  structured ,   with  specialized  teams  for  intelligence  gathering ,   field  operations ,   and  research  and  development  etc .

it  establishes  its  headquarters  in  washington  d.c ,   and  has  offices  across  the  united  states  and  the  world  as  a  safe  place  for  agents  to  go  to  while  on  a  mission .

1921 - 1939 :  

tsf  continues  to  grow  and  adapt ,   now  going  by  a  different  name ,   called  the  network .   it  continued  to  develop  new  technologies  and  tactics  for  espionage  and  covert  operations .  

the  organization's  reputation  for  effectiveness  and  discretion  attracts  the  attention  of  influential  government  officials  and  wealthy  benefactors .

agents  are  involved  in  a  number  of  high - profile  missions ,   including  efforts  to  counter  soviet  espionage  and  sabotage  during  the  interwar  period .

1940 - 1945 :

with  the  outbreak  of  world  war  2 ,   the  silent  few  plays  a  critical  role  in  gathering  intelligence  and  conducting  sabotage  and  espionage  operations  against  the  axis  powers .

many  agents  served  in  the  armed  forces ,   using  their  specialized  training  to  aid  in  military  operations .   while  others  fought  alongside  the  military  as  a  show  of  support .

during  this  time ,   the  network  continues  to  recruit  and  train  new  operatives ,   expanding  its  tanks  to  include  specialists  in  a  wide  range  of  fields   (  including  cryptography ,   linguistics ,   and  technology .  )

1946 - 1960 :

in  the  aftermath  of  the  war ,   the  network  shifted  its  focus  to  countering  the  emerging  threat  of  communist  regimes  around  the  world .

the  organization  engages  in  covert  operations  to  support  anti - communist  forces  in  countries  such  as  korea ,   vietnam  and  cuba .  

the  network  develops  new  technologies  and  techniques  for  surveillance  and  intelligence  gathering ,   including  the  use  of  satellites  and  advanced  encryption  methods .

1961 - 1989 :

during  the  cold  war ,   the  organization  plays  a  key  role  in  working  to  gather  intelligence  and  thwart  soviet  espionage  efforts .

it  becomes  increasingly  secretive  and  compartmentalized ,   with  many  agents  operation  in  isolation  from  one  another .

during  this  time ,   the  agency  develops  advanced  weapons  and  technologies  for  use  in  covert  operations .

1990 - 1995 :

with  the  collapse  of  the  soviet  union  and  the  end  of  the  cold  war ,   the  network  finds  itself  facing  a  new  era  of  uncertainty  and  shifting  geopolitical  priorities .

the  organization  struggles  to  adapt  to  new  threats  such  as  terrorism  and  cyber  warfare ,   and  begins  to  face  criticism  for  its  secrecy  and  lack  of  accountability .

during  a  period  of  weakness ,   a  man  named  conrad  ashe  would  assassinate  top  network  individuals  and  any  agents  who  were  loyal ,   take  over  the  organization .   effectively  wiping  it  clean  and  starting  over .   thus  pandora  was  born ,   in  a  new  world  with  new  possibilities .

[nordleuchten]

24 Days of La Fayette: December 9th - Comte de Charlus

Armand-Charles-Augustin de La Croix de Castries, comte de Charlus was a French nobleman that served as a Colonel en Second in the Saintonge Regiment. The Regiment was founded as the 85e Regiment of the Line in 1684. In 1780, during the Revolutionary War it was dispatched to the former colonies under the command of the comte de Rochembeau and participated in the battle of Yorktown. After the French Revolution, the regiment was transformed into the 82e Regiment of Infantry.

Charlus was born on May 23, 1756 as the oldest son of Charles Eugène Gabriel de La Croix de Castries, marquis de Castries (1727-1801) and Gabrielle Isabeau Thérèse de Rosset. Castries served as Secretray of the French Navy from 1780 until 1787. He was made a Marshal of France in 1783.

The Marquis de Chastellux described Charlus career and character as follows in a letter to George Washington from January 12, 1781:

Count de Charlus the son of marquis de Castries our new minister is a young gentleman endowed with the best and most amiable qualities, but i may do him justice in a word by saying that he is a worthy friend to marquis de la fayette. he resigned a colonelship at home to serve in America and left in france a very handsome lady whom he had married the month before. I hope that he will testify to your excellency the respect and the attachment of the whole french army (…).

"To George Washington from François-Jean de Beauvoir, marquis de Chastellux, 12 January 1781,” Founders Online, National Archives, [This is an Early Access document from The Papers of George Washington. It is not an authoritative final version.] (09/09/2022)

Charlus had already been a friend of La Fayette when he came over with his regiment, but their relationship deepened after Charlus offered his service as a volunteer aide-de-camp in March of 1781. The comte de Charlus joined La Fayette along with the comte de Dillon and the comte (?) de Sainte-Maime. All three men were friends of La Fayette and joined him in order to support his expedition against Benedict Arnold in Virginia. It appears that only Charlus served directly as an aide-de-camp. By April of the same years, the three men had left Virginia for Rhode Island, making Charlus’ service a rather short one.

La Fayette wrote in a letter to George Washington dated February 24, 1781:

Count de Ste Mîme and Mons. de St Victor are with me-- They ask Your permission to follow me and so will Count de Charlus &c. -- I told them that You would Have No objection to it As far as may Be Consistent with their Arrangements with Count de Rochambeau upon which You will not Intrude, and that the American Army will Be Happy in all times to Be Honor’d with the visit of Such Volonteers-- But these Expressions will still do Better from You, and the word Volonteer must not Be forgotten for Reasons obvious in any thing You’ll order me to Answer to them.

"To George Washington from Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette, 24 February 1781,” Founders Online, National Archives, [This is an Early Access document from The Papers of George Washington. It is not an authoritative final version.] (09/09/2022)

La Fayette described the whole situation further in a letter to the Prince de Poix from August 24, 1781:

You will already have learned that Charlus came to Virginia with me. He had permission to travel, but they compelled him to return nonetheless, an event that has not affected him very much.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 4, April 1, 1781–December 23, 1781, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 356-349.

La Fayette and Charlus were reunited for the Battle of Yorktown although they were not directly serving together. We have previous letters where La Fayette expresses his warm feelings for Charlus but his letter from October 20, 1781 is my favourite example of these warm feelings. La Fayette wrote to the Prince de Poix:

I become more and more attached to Charlus. To the distinguished qualities that make him esteemed, he joins all those that make him loved. (…) Charlus, the vicomte, Damas, and I live as intimately together as in Paris.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 4, April 1, 1781–December 23, 1781, Cornell University Press, 1981, p. 424-425.

Shortly after the Battle of Yorktown, Charlus returned to France where his military career continued to thrive. La Fayette wrote in a letter to George Washington on January 18, 1782:

Charlus is adjutant General of the Gendarmerie of France Which his Father Commands.

"To George Washington from Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette, 18 January 1782,” Founders Online, National Archives, [This is an Early Access document from The Papers of George Washington. It is not an authoritative final version.] (09/09/2022)

The Marquis mentioned Charlus career again in a letter to George Washington from May 24, 1786:

Count de charlus, now Called duke de Castries, is Commander in second of the Gendarmerie which is Commanded by His father.

“To George Washington from Lafayette, 24 May 1786,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Confederation Series, vol. 4, 2 April 1786 – 31 January 1787, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1995, pp. 71–73.] (09/09/2022)

Their apparent closeness should make for a great friendship between La Fayette and Charlus, should it not? Well, let me introduce you to a little something called the French Revolution.

Charlus was initially quite positive towards the Revolution and even supported the abolishing of privileges for the nobility – at heart he however remained the most astute royalist. It did not took him and La Fayette too long to clash over the politic of the Revolution. Charlus even duelled Charles Lameth, the brother of Alexandre Lameth, La Fayette’s fellow prisoner. Lameth was slightly wounded during the duel.

Charlus fled to Coppet in Switzerland where he had family and joined the Armée des émigrés in 1794 and founded his own regiment. He only returned back to France after the Restauration in 1814. He died on January 19, 1842.

Charlus had a younger sister, Adélaïde Marie de La Croix de Castries, who married the Vicomte de Mailly in 1767. He had been married twice and each marriage produced one surviving son. He was succeeded by his first born son, Edmond Eugène Philippe Hercule de La Croix de Castries.