#woman: 'what are you doing?' man: 'writing a letter to maria'

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Killing Wanda Pt 3

Summary: You couldn’t figure out what to do, you’d gone from seducing Wanda to basically bullying her and leaving her with a confused Yelena, you couldn’t think straight and just wanted to forget things, why did you have to be attracted to some hot redhead that you had to kill? It really puts a dent into trying to bed hot women and kill people in between.

Words: 3,000 (or so, probably more)

Warnings: 18+ only Minors DNI, sexual innuendos On Carols part because she’s desperate in this (sorry 😬) angst and upset Wanda and confused Y/n

A/n: Oh you thought I forgot about killing Wanda? Never! I’ve re written this about 4 times so that’s why it took so long sorry 😬 I need to post it, it’s good I like it but I keep putting it off but here it is! As usual any mistakes are my own and I’m gonna stop making my chapters so long because honestly I lose track of what I’ve said 😂

Forget what you said about walking in the dark, you hated it, hated the noisy animals, hated the wind in the trees, stupid trees, again you reached your destination at another door, why were you walking so much now? And why was your side hurting??. Oh right you got shot, anyway not the point

You banged on the door waiting for Maria to open it, when she finally did you stormed past the poor woman and fetched some whisky from the liquor cabinet. But before you could drink it it was snatched out of your hands by Natasha “didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

You scoffed “wouldn’t know Natty never knew my mother, just a man and woman who moulded me into an assassin then made me move in with two Russian women with anger issues”

You tried grabbing the bottle but a pair of hands grabbed you and pulled you down onto the chair making you shout in pain from your side “fuck off Maria why’d you do that??!”

You tried wriggling away but the woman wouldn’t let up “why do you have dried blood all over your shirt?”

She finally let you go and your curled up on your side trying to ease the pain that was returning “didn’t Yelena tell you guys? She normally does”

Nat rolled her eyes giving Maria the bottle to put away and looked back to you “she did tell us, she also sent a text recently saying you told her to take Wanda to the safe house and not to speak to her at all until you got back”

“Oh good I don’t have to recap everything then” Maria returned with a syringe full of something and you jumped up backing off “what’s in there? Are you gonna sedate me? You can’t do that without my permission you know”

Nat wrapped her arm around your neck from behind surprising you and holding you in place while Maria lifted your shirt and injected the area around your wound, after a couple of minutes the pain stopped and you relaxed feeling pain free again

“Feel better?” Natasha relaxed her hold on you and kissed your cheek you didn’t respond so she just dropped you letting you stand on your own

“Yel also texted about Wanda crying her eyes out” you paused sighing and holding your head in your hands “want to explain that?”

“Why do I need to? She’s a target like you said, targets don’t get sympathy” turning around you went to the front room slumping down onto the couch and closing your eyes

Natasha followed close holding her phone reading the text message from Yelena out loud

“Bozhe moy Sestra I don’t know what Y/n said to this girl but she’s crying her eyes out in my car I just got my seats cleaned!

She said Y/n told her the threat for her life wasn’t real and the shooter was planned and that Y/n owns Wanda and she needs to stay at the safe house for her own protection against Y/n because she’s pissed off, silly if you ask me, Y/n was basically writing love letter to the woman”

Natasha rattled off the messages while Maria tried comforting you sitting next to you rubbing your shoulders “come on bunny tell your mommy what’s wrong, daddy and I are here to listen”

You held back the vomit in your throat when you lifted your head glaring at the woman “never and I mean never speak like that again, I don’t like your sweet and soft innocent act it’s so fucking strange”

She laughed “yeah sure okay, I was just trying to make you smile, so tell us why you’ve done a complete 180 about this woman”

You sat up sighing “I’d gotten shot, but the position the shooter was in and where they shot from it should’ve been for Wanda, if she was standing it would’ve gone straight through her forehead, Maria it was for Wanda and I know it’s from the people who want her dead and I’m taking too long, that’s why I switched up on her and I needed her to think I was lying about the whole thing so it didn’t stress her out more”

“Okay” Maria said holding your hands “I need to tell you that with all the love in the world you’re an absolute idiot”

Natasha laughed out loud and covered her mouth holding in anymore laughs while you blushed in embarrassment “what? Why am I an idiot??”

“You scared the poor woman, plus according to those text messages you also threatened her pretty harshly apparently”

You scoffed jumping up from the couch and barging into Nat who wouldn’t let you past “I don’t think so Y/n”

You pushed back against her “what the hell do you care?! You pushed a knife into her throat nearly killing her!”

You jabbed her in the chest with your finger and Nat grabbed it bending it back making you yell out “yes I did I also had you behind me with a pistol in the back of my head and you were so close to pulling the trigger I felt it, I felt all the emotion you had holding the gun, so don’t you dare try and tell us you don’t care about Wanda”

She let go of your finger watching you hold it gently and bending it back into place “so? Are you gonna say anything?”

“I’m going to get drunk, you two are boring”

You pushed past the woman ignoring Maria trying to shout for you and took off into the city “I swear to god I need better friends”

*********************************************************

“Lady Y/n! Here to waste your life away again?” The man behind the bar called Thor hadn’t seen you for weeks and obviously he missed you “yeah whatever hi Thor, give me my usual”

“Of course! Anything for my favourite murderer!” He was so much larger than life with no indoor voice “Thor! Will you shut the fuck up about things like that, you’re gonna get me jailed”

You slid onto a bar stool at the end of the bar accepting the whiskey given to you, how cliche of you, a depressed assassin drinking whisky in a dingy bar “don’t look now Y/n but your fling just walked into the bar” the man gestured behind you but you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was, her strong frilly perfume invaded your nose well before she entered to bar

“Hey kitten” she hovered over you from behind purring into your ear her greeting “I’ve missed you, my toys don’t satisfy me like you do, how about you come home with me” you shrugged the woman off and turned around in the chair “Sharon you’re so desperate it’s embarrassing, no I don’t want to fuck you, you’ve probably slept with everything that has a pulse like the whore you are, so fuck off and leave me alone”

You knew she didn’t listen, she likes being degraded, a bit deranged actually if you thought about it

“You’re so hot when you’re angry, I’ve missed it” she started kissing your neck and wrapping her arms around your waist as you finished off your whiskey trying to ignore her kisses getting heavier “you’re like a damn dog in heat it’s so embarrassing”

“Come on baby please? I’ll do whatever you I’ve just missed your body so much, you’re the only one who uses knives too”

“I use knives because it shuts you up and lets me finish without your annoying voice”

“I promise I won’t say a word, you can tape my mouth shut for all I care I promise I won’t make a sound”

You rolled your eyes glancing up at Thor looking disappointed in Sharon’s desperation and that made you laugh actually “fine Sharon, I’ve had a rough day though so you better keep your promise about keeping shut”

You stood up from the bar stool but Sharon gave you no chance for much else when she jumped into your arms wrapping her legs and arms around you kissing your face all over “I promise I promise I’ll be quiet, I’ll even ask permission to cum because I know you like that”

You groaned holding onto the woman so she didn’t fall and made your way out of the bar throwing Thor money for the drink “enjoy your night lady Y/n!”

******************************************************

Wanda hadn’t said much since she and Yelena arrived at the safe house, she only thanked Yelena for the dinner of macaroni and cheese then sat on the couch just staring at the wall, sometimes she would cry for a while then go quiet and Yelena wasn’t too sure of what to do

“Hey Wanda, did you know the human body is mostly water? That’s cool right?”

Wanda shrugged “maybe if I keep crying then I’ll eventually run out of water and die”

Yelena was shocked, that was a little dramatic, even for an assassin to hear, at least she was talking though that was something she guessed “sure sure that’s something to say I guess, soooo what-

“Is there someone after me?” She cut Yelena off which she thought was very rude but she guessed after everything she’d been through she’d give Wanda some leeway

“Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me?” She simply asked

“Whatever Y/n told you is the truth, she says she lied then she lied obviously, I don’t know anything” her reply was cold but she didn’t want to give away much and cause trouble

“Cut the bullshit Yelena you tell me the truth right now!” Yelena opened and closed her mouth a couple of times trying to rack her brain for something to say when a shot rang out and she found herself clutching her shoulder “I hate being shot at!” She jumped behind a wall and watched for Wanda who didn’t move

“Are you stupid Wanda?! Get down!” She tried reaching out for the woman to pull her down but Wanda just moved closer to where the bullets were coming from “what’s the point Yelena? If the threats fake they won’t hit me and if they’re real they will, either way I’ll find out the truth!”

Yelena couldn’t believe it, what the fuck was going on?? God she’s gonna have to save the suicidal idiot

“Fine!” Yelena jumped back up earning another shot in her side to push Wanda behind the couch hiding them both unfortunately she wasn’t as quick as she thought hearing Wanda yell out as she tackled her to the floor

“Did they get you in the arm?” Wanda nodded “yeah but I’m okay”

Yelena rolled her eyes “you won’t be if you keep ignoring me, now stay down or I swear to satan himself I’ll kill you slowly and painfully”

Wanda nodded keeping her mouth shut and closing her eyes to wait out the shots firing through the house.

*********************************************************

“That was amazing, you’re so good” Sharon’s mumbling went unanswered as you put your clothes back and picked up your things to leave, but you weren’t a man so you did go back to Sharon and kissed her softly, tucking her into bed and getting her a glass of water “well done for being quiet, sleep well princess” you left with a final kiss to her lips, she’s good to be around when she doesn’t talk much

You left the house locking the door with the spare key and posted it back through the letterbox, you fished your phone from your pocket seeing missed calls and messages from Yelena

“Y/n I swear to whatever god is out there answer your damn phone, where r u??????”

“She’s feisty, she wants to see you and not in good way either!! She is mad at you for lying!”

“How does she know ur lying you ask?? She’s been shot at again and hit in the shoulder! Nat here now and cussing you out so get here!?!?!!”

You couldn’t finish reading instead running straight to the safe house, getting there you saw the doors open and Maria coming out with blooded bandages and your heart sank “Wanda?” You were out of breath and tired but you wouldn’t be able to take it if all that blood was hers

Maria saw your panicked face “no Y/n it’s okay she’s fine, this is mostly Yelena’s, her shoulder and side took a beating”

You hoped she was okay but you were so relieved Wanda wasn’t the most injured, you ran into the house seeing Nat attending to Yelena and Wanda in the other corner drinking a glass of water “Wanda, Wanda are you okay?? Is your arm okay??

Wanda didn’t look at you instead just looked straight on “you lied to me” she whispered

“What?”

“You lied to me Y/n” her voice didn’t waver “all you’ve done is lie, convincing me that there’s no one after me then Yelena gets shot in the shoulder, someone is out to get me and I don’t know why you tried to gaslight me and scare me like that”

You accepted what was happening and moved in front of Wanda making sure she looked at you “Wanda I’m sorry these last 24 hours have been very difficult, I just didn’t want the shooter to actually get you, he would’ve done Wanda if I wasn’t there”

“Doesn’t explain it Y/n we’ve never had a good relationship but I seriously can’t do this anymore, I’m going to the police and getting them to figure out who’s after me” she stood up removing the towel from her shoulders and walking off not bothering to look at you

Maria slapped you on the shoulder “go after her! If she goes to the police they’ll get you too, I’m pretty sure an assassin doesn’t get caught”

You weren’t even thinking about the police finding you, you just couldn’t believe you were losing Wanda “oh shit!” You ran after the woman leaving Maria to laugh “she’s an idiot”

*****************************************************

“Wanda! Wanda wait!” You yelled after the woman in the streets like a creep, god if someone were to come up and punch you in the face for following someone at night you wouldn’t blame them honestly

“Wanda come on please!” She finally stopped and you nearly crashed into her but steadied yourself “what do you want?”

You took in a breath, god why were you out of breath? Maybe the hole in your side but you couldn’t be sure of course “you can’t go to the police”

“Oh yeah? Why not? Nervous that you won’t get your payment for killing me?” You were gobsmacked, you didn’t want to kill her that was the whole point! You’ve literally been trying to prevent that this whole time!

“Wanda if you go to the police and they start digging around they’ll find me and then I’ll get thrown in jail or given the electric chair” you took a hold of her hands and kissed them in your own “please let me take you somewhere away from here, I’ll keep you safe”

Wanda snatched her hands away and you knew you’d said something bad and instantly regretted it “keep me safe? You made me fear for my life! Both when you told me you’d been paid to kill me and when you claimed me as your own like a predator and their prey!”

You noticed a couple of people gathering near you guys and you just smiled at them “it’s okay everyone she’s a little drunk that’s all I promise we’re okay” you offered people your fakest smile and some accepted while others stayed watching

“Come on Wanda we’ll need to go home now okay?” You subtly grabbed Wanda and brought her into a hug kissing her forehead “she’s a lightweight” you laughed off dragging her away forcing a kiss to keep her quiet

When you both got further enough away your grip loosened on Wanda and she was quick to push you away and walk in front of you “Wanda I need you to listen”

“Get fucked Y/n”

“By you? Absolutely! But it’s not the time please just listen to me”

Wanda stomped to a stop and turned around crossing her arms at you “what”

You sighed “I’m sorry I lied we’ve been through this I know, it’s a stupid fucking excuse but I was trying to protect you and you know if you don’t want to talk to me? Fine! But you need to go to our bosses safe house its safer than Fort Knox”

Wanda didn’t move, didn’t even look or acknowledge you in any way so you dug around in your pocket for your bosses business cards and held out your hand for her to take the card “take it” she didn’t move

“Fucking take it Wanda and I’ll turn around right now and never see you again, just take it”

She gently reached her hand out and took the card carefully not to take your hand with it

“Good, goodbye Wanda” you turned around on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction, you did hear a weak attempt at your name but you refused to turn and kept walking, you’d go to the people who wanted her dead by your hands and use your hands to kill them, they’d regret the day they asked for your help.

[chemblrish]

Maria Skłodowska-Curie. That's it, that's the post.

As per my poll, here's a post on MSC!

This post began as a bit of a messy thing. I wanted to write about MSC because she was a brilliant Polish woman who became one of the most important scientists of modern chemistry and physics and I, as a Polish woman and a science major, admire her greatly. But the whole thing was vague and lacked direction. I received some kindly advice though and decided to focus on this: what was Maria like? Everybody knows she had an exceptional mind, that she had close ties with Paris, that she discovered radium and polonium, that she received the Nobel prize twice… But did you know she was said to have “serious, gray eyes” or that her initial plan was to spend her life working as a teacher or that she loved her homeland deeply? Underneath her doubtlessly exceptional achievements she was a person, and I’d love to take a look at that.

Maria Skłodowska ("skwo-DOV-ska") was born on 7 November 1867 in Warsaw under Russian occupation. Her father was a mathematics and physics teacher, so it may seem natural that little Maria took an interest in science, but as a child she was a phenomenal student in general, no matter the subject; she read a lot of books, and she learnt to read very early. She was considered very gifted. 

Her family wasn’t rich by any means. Maria’s father – a Polish man, a school teacher under the tzar’s merciless reign – knew very well he couldn’t afford to give all his children the education he wanted for them, not to mention neither Maria nor her older sister Bronia were allowed to attend university in occupied Poland. Making their dreams come true – studying at the Sorbonne – depended on the money they didn’t have.

At 17 Maria made a decision: she was going to work as a teacher while Bronia pursued medicine in Paris with the help of the money earned by Maria. After Bronia’s graduation they would switch: Bronia was going to work as a doctor while Maria attended university.

It was by no means an easy task. During the following years Maria had to withstand not only immensely hard work and a longing for learning, but also unfair employers, lack of respect, and heartbreak. But she persisted. She was 24 when finally she was able to pack up and take the train to Paris.

[source]

Soon after taking up her studies at the Sorbonne did Maria realize how far behind the other students she was: they were able to pursue an official education in a free country, something she’d never gotten to experience before. She had been an excellent student back in Poland, a fluent French speaker, but now it turned out her knowledge was lacking. Obviously, this couldn’t discourage her. Bronia’s husband Kazimierz wrote in a letter to her father that Maria would spend entire days at her university, only coming home in the evening. She worked admirably hard to catch up. And she was happy: at long last she could study science and mathematics in depth, the way she had longed to do for so many years.

Of course, money never stopped being an issue. Even with her father’s and sister’s help, she was still poor. She definitely wasn’t eating enough. In winter, she was cold. Other than that, she mostly gave up on her colleagues, refused to waste her time on “insignificant” things: that is, everything but studying, unfolding the secrets of chemistry and physics, practicing her laboratory skills. She was living and breathing science.

[left / right]

Pierre Curie was older, an exceptional physicist, charming and calm, still unmarried at 35 – he wouldn’t love a woman who couldn’t be first and foremost his intellectual partner. But Maria wasn’t looking for love and she certainly wasn’t looking for a marriage. She had a degree in physics, was on her way to get a degree in mathematics as well, all the while working on the magnetism of steel. And indeed, when they met through a professor who thought Pierre might be of help to young Maria, it was mostly curiosity, mutual respect, and primarily a great scientific interest that bloomed between them and brought them closer together.

Maria didn’t give in easily. All along her plan had been to earn her degrees and return to Warsaw, to her elderly father, and remain working as a teacher for the rest of her life. But there’s no doubt that when she eventually agreed to marry Pierre, it was out of genuine, deep love. They had a sincere, precious connection, both emotional and intellectual.

Did you know Maria and Pierre loved to travel the countryside on their bikes? They did. It’s how they spent most of their time together after their wedding. And not for a moment did they forget about their shared passion for science – they discussed it even during their travels. They lived together and they worked together. Their first child Irène – future Nobel prize winner as well! – was born in September 1897, Ève – their younger daughter – seven years later.

Pierre’s family adored Maria, Maria’s family loved Pierre. The two of them would frequently visit Pierre’s parents and they continued their biking trips, but other than that their life was utterly devoted to science. I know, it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but it’s true. Along with the fact they always had very little money, work was all they had.

Radium appeared in Maria’s life when she was working on her doctorate. Her laboratory was cold, damp, and badly equipped, but it seems to me Maria’s determination was inexhaustible. She began by studying uranium, but she soon figured out she had to include other elements in her research as well in order to solve the mystery at hand. It was only after a year of this work that Maria realized she might have discovered an element previously unknown.

Pierre was interested in Maria’s research before, but – save from the occasional advice as an older and more experienced scientist – he mostly left her to do her own thing while he focused on his crystals. At this point however, he was so intrigued he abandoned his research to work with Maria on her project. In 1898 (two years into Maria’s PhD work!) they published a paper together – in it they announced the discovery of a new element: polonium, named after Maria’s beloved homeland. Later that year, they did the same for radium. They coined the term “radioactivity”.

Maria kept a meticulous journal, not only for her laboratory work. She was carefully tracking their spending as well as Irène’s development, the way she learnt to walk and speak and play with their cat.

And so, her life continued: filthy, hard work in the infamous shed, a ton of an ore for less than a gram of product (!), countless papers published with her dearest husband, watching their daughter grow, earning her doctorate degree; then, in 1903, her first Nobel prize (along with her husband and Henri Becquerel).

The Nobel prize brought Maria and Pierre fame – and it was a tragedy. For them, at least. Modest and humble as they were, they couldn’t stand the journalists almost storming their garden, going as far as “describing [their] black and white cat [in the newspapers]” as Pierre said in a letter to a friend. I allowed myself to translate a piece of a letter that Maria sent to her brother in 1904 amid the post-Nobel craze, as it’s both sad and hilarious:

“I wish you health [for your name-day], well-being for all of your family, and for you never to experience the sort of correspondence and assault that we are now subjected to. Ever since that accursed Nobel prize we’ve been unable to do anything, and I’m beginning to ask myself if the money we received will be of any consolation, as, after all, the people who sell me meat, coal, sugar, etc. are richer than me yet they do not experience such sorrows. […] and yesterday some American wrote to me, asking for permission to name a race horse after me.”

Maria’s life took a truly sharp turn when Pierre died in an accident in 1906. Despite the tragedy that irreparably crushed her heart, she never ceased her work. She became a professor, organized classes for her and her friends’ kids, ran the Radium Institute, continued her research, received her second Nobel prize. During World War I it was her mobile X-ray machines that saved countless lives: she was active and involved, operating the machines with her older daughter and teaching others how to do it.

[left / right]

She lived long enough to see her dear, beloved Poland become an independent country once more. To the very end she remained humble and uninterested in fame, hardworking and dedicated entirely to science.

I based this post mostly on Madame Curie by her daughter Ève which I highly recommend!

[demigoddessqueens]

Hi, I wanted to ask you if you could write a one-shot about Ezio Auditore x Reader (Lorenzo's niece)?. where the two of them have an important relationship, which one day the reader discovers that she is pregnant and she immediately goes to tell Ezio but she finds out that he cheated on her with Cristina. due to the pain she decides to leave Florence and raise the child alone (the only ones who know about the pregnancy are Lorenzo, Giovanni, Maria and Federico) only later Ezio finds out and goes to look for her

Oooh bringing in the angst!! 💔❤️‍🩹 no happy ending here

You look down at her and your heart breaks. She looks like you and so much him at the same time. If things had gone differently, Ezio would be here with you both during playtime with the dolls.

He loved you. He loved Cristina. He risked everything to keep you and his family safe. He gave himself to you endlessly and selflessly. The network of ally spies revealed to you he had seen Cristina again.

Two of the four who knew were tragically passed, even though you knew Giovanni and Frederico would have been ecstatic to be a part of your daughter’s life.

For the longest time, you wanted to be angry at Cristina, at Ezio, at the world, but what good was that going to do? The poor young woman and you never got him in the end.

Now Claudia had become another informant, and her letter betrayed the timing of when Ezio was due to your abode.

Downstairs, you hear the commotion between your Uncle Lorenzo and Ezio. Raised voices and desperate pleading before thudding footsteps got closer to the doorway.

You held your breath for a split second as the door swung open, and Ezio burst into the drawing room with gasping breaths.

The little one turned to look at the disheveled man before turning back to her imaginations.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The cracked voice betrayed all the anguish that been pent up inside the young man. Tear stains and sunken eyes painted his heartbreak.

“It was not how I wanted to tell you, but things do change…”

He took a tentative step towards you both with a hopeful expression. You hoped the situation would not involve raised voices. There has been too much of that through all the sleepless tearful nights of your pregnancy.

“Can I—?”

Any other time, you would have agreed to him, but nothing would ever be the same again.

“I am not sure, Ezio…I am not certain about anything…”

Outside your window, two doves nestled to each other protectively over their nest of new hatchlings.

[themculibrary]

Vision Masterlist

Abiogenesis (ao3) - tortoiseshells wanda/vision, background sam/steve, background natasha/maria T, 8k

Summary: Alive, or not? Other, or not? Wanda Maximoff suggests, glancing over his shoulder at his tablet and frowning at the Go match he is playing against Doctor Cho, that perhaps it is not as black and white as all that.

“A person is still a person, even after they die,” she says, tugging at the cuffs of her sweater. She must be thinking of her brother. “Human life isn’t bound by being alive.”

Or: In which Vision sets out to become less alone, and learns to make coffee, the rudiments of ballet, and about the common commercial airliners flying in and out of Philadelphia in the 70s and 80s along the way. Some of this will be useful, he thinks.

a drop from on high (ao3) - Barkour wanda/vision T, 4k

Summary: He is not a man. Perhaps before Wanda Vision wants to be one.

and they lived happily ever after (ao3) - letoatreidcs wanda/vision E, 2k

Summary: Vision watched as Wanda’s breathing evens out, slow and steady. Takes a moment to admire the view, overwhelmed by a surge of gratitude for this incredible woman, safe in his arms and their children, one in the middle of them cuddling to mom and the other spread on his chest. 

His family.

In the two years he used to sneak around to see Wanda, he used to daydream about this. Never believing it was possible, but deep down always hoping that somehow it could be done. They still have a lot to figure out, with the twins, their powers, Wanda’s powers and his own old, new body. A lot of explanations to be given, but right now the room is dark and the house is quiet and Vision closes his eyes.

He gets to enjoy now and forever.

a very wandavision christmas! (ao3) - EmptyIceCreamContainer wanda/vision T, 6k

Summary: Wanda and Vision wake up to find snow outside and their sons excitedly pointing out that Christmas is right around the corner! Realizing that they’ve missed 9 holiday seasons with their sons, they’re determined to make the best Christmas ever! Can Vision exceed Dennis the Mailman’s legendary light display to win the city council’s award? Can Wanda secure THE most in-demand toy this holiday season? Or will their Christmas hopes disintegrate like a melting snowball?

AKA “What if WandaVision had a 90s episode AND a Christmas special?”

better when i’m with you (ao3) - thelilacfield wanda/vision T, 69k

Summary: He’s had a number of firsts. Virginia Reed, his first crush. Wanda Maximoff, his first kiss. Eve Simon, his first heartbreak. Mandy Fournier, the first girl who said yes when he asked her to dance. And he’s becoming increasingly certain that Sam Wilson is his first love.

Vision writes a letter each time he has a crush so consuming he can’t forget it. They are tiny pieces of his heart, written out for his eyes only, a way to say goodbye.

Until the day they’re sent out.

‘cause i love you for infinity (ao3) - letoatreidcs wanda/vision E, 4k

Summary: It was raining lightly outside their house.

The once blue and clear sky was now painted in mixtures of gray and white as the steady pattering of water hit the windows and roof. It was a sleepy morning, the kind meant to be savored under blankets with a loved one.

Vision loved these mornings.

hello again (ao3) - faebeast wanda/vision T, 49k

Summary: After the events of Westview, White Vision finds himself at Wakanda. The new memories he received at Westview haunt him, urging him to regain the identity he once had. Severely weakened due to the loss of the Mind Stone, he is on borrowed time to find a new power source and restore his former emotions. As he begins to put the pieces of his life together, he finds old friends. And old enemies.

husband and wife (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision G, 3k

Summary: A few Avengers wax poetic about what they’d do if they weren’t busy superhero-ing.

Vision wants to be a husband. Wanda thinks that’s cute.

keeping me keeping you keeping me warm (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 6k

Summary: The Vision wakes up in a field, someplace. His skin is white. He knows what he’s meant to do.

It is hard to warm up your wife when you seem to be made of ice.

my father, my step-father, my father (ao3) - Dandybear wanda/vision M, 10k

Summary: Post-WandaVision. Wanda gets the kids and finds White Vision to get her happy ending. But, rebuilding a family isn’t easy.

over and over ‘til i get it right (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 7k

Summary: “Where have you been?” she asks, her touch dancing toward the inside of his wrist, tugging the sleeve down. He freezes. “Working in the garage, then?“

“Er…” Vision stammers as she traces the dark ink stains on the flesh of his palm all the way down past the fabric. “No, that’s… um.”

“Oooooh, secrets,” she snickers, “What have you been up to?”

What he’s been up to is terribly demeaning. 

-

There’s an empty spot in the center of the property deed and Vision wants to fill it. He doesn’t know how to draw a heart. He will simply have to learn.

perfect as you are (ao3) - boopoopeedoo wanda/vision T, 4k

Summary: Wanda and Vision’s resolve to remain just friends is tested when Tommy and Billy rope Vision into rescuing Wanda from a bad date.

so take me home (ao3) - wisteriafic wanda/vision T, 16k

Summary: Wanda and Vision, living a happy little life in the suburbs.

synthesis (ao3) - englishmajor226 wanda/vision N/R, 296k

Summary: This is a Wanda/Vision fic that alternates from the events in Wandavision to a lead-up of all past events until Infinity War, exclusively from Vision’s POV. Hang tight, kids. It’s gonna be a long one.

visions are seldom all they seem (ao3) - msmaxximoff wanda/vision T, 5k

Summary: In her dreams, this is the moment where she cries. This is the moment where she lets herself get swept up in the romance of it all and finally finds her happily ever after despite the entire multiverse conspiring against her.

But this Vision is the stuff of nightmares.

In the aftermath of everything, Wanda and Vision finally learn how to heal.

vision & the scarlet witch vol i (ao3) - Agent66 wanda/vision G, 82k

Summary: After the events of WandaVision, Wanda Maximoff and the Vision try their hand at retirement, with very expected results.

what is grief, if not love persevering? (ao3) - hunkahulkaaburningfudge wanda/vision G, 63k

Summary: The Avengers watch their future.

A WandaVision watch-it fic.

zenith (ao3) - Cyan_Rain wanda/vision T, 61k

Summary: Billy and Tommy wake up miles from Westview, in a world that’s nothing like the idyllic life their mother made for them, a world still reeling from a bizarre mass disappearance and reappearance people are starting to call “The Blip.”

Six years later, there has been no sign of Wanda for so long she’s presumed dead. Her children decide it’s time to find answers.

Billy, Tommy, Vision, Doctor Strange, America Chavez, and Reed Richards follow a series of clues to another universe, to a variant Earth so different from their own it might as well be an alien planet, where they will face unknown dangers, strange mysteries, and possibly the Scarlet Witch.

[metamatar]

February Reading Round Up! In reverse chronological order of finishing

Reinventing Revolution: New Social Movements and the Socialist Tradition in India by Gail Omvedt

Been meaning to read for a long long time, was serendiptiously a reading groups' choice and on my tumblr dash. Very good, detailed tour of movements that have complicated "class first" - caste, gender, peasant, tribal and their evolution theoretically and historically. Enjoyed how obviously socialist and critical Omvedt is of regressive trends and fair to the demands of popular organising that trouble us. I made so many notes, and intend to revist her perspective later when I've studied more. Where I was familiar with secondary literature like, caste I think she did an excellent job illustrating the limitations and need for Ambedakrite movements.

The Final Question by Chattopadhyay, Sarat Chandra

Bengali literature written in dialogue with the anti colonial movement's understanding of the new role of the Indian woman, this book is angry in the best way. Something very Dostoyevsky like in the arguments between the characters, but, instead of a religious worldview you have a deeply modern, materialist worldview being sharply advocated for against revanchist cultural trends in the novel's heroine Kamal. It holds up really well for a book in 1936, and its tenderness in handling every character's hopes and despair is deeply touching.

The Play Of Dolls Stories by Narain, Kunwar

Tumblr Mutual Book Club pick! Short Story collection by Hindi experimental poet and writer. Very evocative stories that have the best onion like layers of thematic interests. Oft satirical but never bleak, with the exception of the last story which felt like an odd addition to the set.

Her Body and Other Parties: Stories by Machado, Carmen Maria

Short Story collection as well, feminist and queer themes. I'd already read the Husband Stitch and was interested in what else the author could do, unfortunately not a lot more thematically. The stories are tightly written and gripping, only that they don't reveal much to me.

Dumb Luck by Vũ, Trọng Phụng

Tumblr Mutual Book Club pick as well. Relentlessly, satirically bleak, also colonial writing. This one is set in Vietnam when it was in French Indochina. Tetra said that every character is an antagonist and FR. Vicious, and a little too bleak for my taste, this is a more traditionalist critique of Vietnamese elite aping the French. The gender politics are absolutely bonkers, the translation I read does a pretty decent job of transferring the text's humor to modern idiom.

Vita & Virginia: A Double Life by Gristwood, Sarah

Biography of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackwille-West, picked up on a whim because of my interest in Woolf's 'madness' and her romantic letters. Really enjoyed reading the complicated polyamorous love lives these literati had. Virginia's struggles with her illness are quite movingly portrayed. Illustrated with pictures of the beautiful homes and gardens the subjects spent their time in so fun for me! Enjoyed how conversant the author was with their literary output and its critical reception and impact. Made me want to finish reading my Woolf books.

The Stranger by Camus, Albert

I thought I'd like this more. The distanced narrator is very poorly executed, so the protagonist's redemption? revelations? towards the end of the novel kind of fell flat. Style over substance problem I think.

The Horizon (Sumer, #2) by Gautam Bhatia

Conclusion to The Wall, also one of those I wish I'd liked a lot more than I did. Very fast paced in its third act, well plotted but weakened by its repeated revelation of this character is ACTUALLY on this SIDE. Like, its done with every family member of the protagonist. Worldbuilding remains memorable if a bit predictable. Would make a better movie.

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Personally I love an old man vs a fish, even if it does not have the gay content Moby Dick promised. Excellent use of the novel for investigating the interiority of a man. It's been a short story kind of month I suppose.

Lady Chatterley's Lover by Lawrence, D.H.

I have already complained about how fascist this book is. Why does modern commentary elide on its very violent racism and sexism and homophobia? I don't think its erotic worldview offers much to not fascist post sex liberation readers lol.

The Idiot by Batuman, Elif

Sorry. Girl at Harvard was not compelling as expected, but I did get a lot from the third act where the protagonist confronts her love interest for real - honest writing that doesn't shy away from difficult conversations.

The Master and Margarita by Bulgakov, Mikhail

Stalin era Soviet satire (its a month for it!) Very conversant with Faust, which I had not read so that I think diminished my understanding of the book. Absurd, very Christian and very funny about the comedic aspects of Soviet life. Loved the ending, almost Tolkein like in its hope for pretty broken characters.

The World in a Grain of Sand: Postcolonial Literature and Radical Universalism by Majumdar, Nivedita

Postcolonial Lit: The Takedown. Incisive, excellent, gave me a lot of books I want to try that the author points to as bucking the trend of compliance to particularist, oft parochial and usually defeatist understandings that dominate the genre.

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

also Bookclub pick. Devastating. Very effective use of the limited POV to illustrate the way shame damns love. Every few pages wrecked me. Tight and sparing with characterisation + description, but delirious with how emotionally close you ride with the protagonist. Best book I have read in a while.

[iam93percentstardust]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this (or when you feel up to it!), reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Ooh fun! I'm gonna go with semi-recent fics from the last year or so (with one exception) because 230+ fics means I have a lot of faves and narrowing it down is a pain.

Enchanted

Steve starts making his way back towards the directions of the cars, wanting to greet her, only to stop dead when he realizes who her date is. Natasha has brought Tony with her. Tony of the pictures, of the stories, of Steve’s infatuated little heart even though he’s never met him in person.

I love writing celebrity aus and this one was particularly fun because I wrote something I don't normally do with celebrity!Steve and nonfamous!Tony. Plus I got to write Natasha and Tony besties, which is always a lot of fun, and got to include a shout-out to my childhood best friend (and I always enjoy when I can work in references to my own life).

Death by a Thousand Cuts

“Tony?” Pepper asks, and he can tell just by the look on her face that whatever she has to tell him, it isn’t good. “What?” he asks. She looks uncharacteristically hesitant. Pepper isn’t supposed to be hesitant. She’s supposed to be barge-in, guns-blazing, unapologetically confident. “The news leaked,” she says eventually.

And now the flip side! Pop star Tony currently owns my entire heart, and I love the idea of breaking up and making up but with the added complication of having to do it on the global stage. There's just something extra delicious about Steve and Tony having to work things out when they have all these people shouting on Twitter and TikTok about how they're better off on their own.

Dear Juliet

When Steve Rogers is given a chance to accompany his friends to Verona, Italy, he's expecting to spend a few days wandering through vineyards and probably seeing at least one Shakespeare performance (and if he's lucky, finding some inspiration for his next webcomic). He isn't expecting the handsome brown-eyed man who works with Juliet's Secretaries or the decades-old love letter that he finds behind a loose brick underneath Juliet's balcony or that the response he sends to Dame Margaret Carter will be answered, not by another letter, but by the sender herself showing up in Verona. He isn't expecting that he'll get caught up in a whirlwind adventure to help Peggy search for her lost love, the woman she left long ago, her beloved Maria.

My current baby! Dear Juliet is an idea that's been sitting in my to-be-written folder for literal years. It was one of the very first ideas that I had for this fandom, and I've been chomping at the bit to write it since 2018. It kept getting put off though, first because I was working on three separate long fics at the same time and then I got caught up with all these other long fics over the years, but after I finished up MRaMRN last year, I told myself that once I was done with my long fic break, I was going to write Dear Juliet. And now it's finally here!

Tied Together With a Smile

“Captain Rogers, this is my sub, Maria,” Howard managed through a strangled voice. “And my son—” “I’m Tony,” YouKnowWhoIAm said, boldly sticking his hand out for Steve to shake. He took it, automatically raising it to his lips to kiss, the way he’d been taught to greet unattached subs as a child. It had fallen out of fashion while Steve was in the ice, and he’d mostly trained himself out of the impulse, but he just couldn’t resist when he saw Tony.

Age difference! Social media AU! Dom/sub verse! Art by two of my favorite artists in this fandom! I feel like this fic has everything that I love, and I pretty regularly go back to reread it.

Marvels Unsolved

A Buzzfeed Unsolved AU starring Tony and Bucky as two ghost hunters searching for truth and Sam as their long-suffering cameraman

Here's my little exception to the five fics because this isn't a fic, it's a verse, but I just love it so much. It's such a rare pair (I think I've written a third of the fics for this pairing), and someone once told me that I wasted a great AU idea on this pairing, but this verse is easily one of my favorite things I've ever written. I'm planning on wrapping it up next year, but I will very much miss it once it's over (and hey, if you like this verse, keep an eye out in October for another installment and a hint of a greater plot!).

[ask-the-reaper-conspiracy]

(A soft whistle at the barred window of Dr Sithe’s cell. A faint rustle of clothing. A little parcel, wrapped in cheesecloth, slips between the bars. There’s a letter tied to the outside, addressed only to “Mama”. It’s Maria’s handwriting.)

Dearest Mama, The woman with the Green Comma of Secrets assures me that this letter will reach you unopened and unread. I would not otherwise risk committing the following to paper. I thought about All Hallows’ again last night. Your face, my mask. The two of us the same. You didn’t understand why I cried, I think. I didn’t understand it myself at the time. I thought I must be sad, but I didn’t know why. It only came to make sense the other day: Miss Wilson told me that sometimes one cries when one is overwhelmed by happiness, or relieved of a great burden. I can only suppose that that was what happened to me. When you first gave me my mask I know you never knew how much it would mean to me. You didn’t know how much easier it would make the day to day task of being Maria. Lights hurt my eyes less when I wear it. Scents hurt my mouth less when I wear it. People cannot see my face when I wear it, so they cannot see when I make the wrong expressions and become angry with me. But of course it makes me look stranger than ever, doesn’t it? You didn’t want me to wear it all the time, especially not at work. You didn’t want people to think I was strange, because people so often fear what they don’t understand, and try to destroy what they fear. I made myself difficult to protect. I have thought for a long time that you must resent me for being such a strange creature. It seems to cause you no end of trouble. I could allude to the incident I must not talk about, of course, and all the events that followed from your attempts to protect me, but that was far from an isolated incident. My mask was part of it too. But then you wore it for me, and we were the same, and I suppose I felt that perhaps you don’t resent me quite so much after all. I suppose I felt that you might accept me, even just a little, exactly as I am. I can only hope that I was not mistaken. Certainly I hardly deserve the acceptance I desire. I have been such a difficult child to my Mama. One might say I have been almost an impossible child. This you can hardly deny. If I were not Maria, you would not be in chains. Is it not my duty, then, to set you free? Upon that subject I have some good news. The court has agreed to hear your appeal. We have as yet no date for it, which is to be expected - upheaval in the wake of that (I stretch the term) man’s removal from office continues to cause delays - but we are assured that you and those who would speak for you will be heard in court. Now the real work begins. The team has assembled at home, from where I pen this letter: Asogi-san’s notes occupy a good quarter of the office as I write, and Miss Lestrade keeps her feet off my desk only under protest. Your dear sweet husband, meanwhile, keeps his thoughts occupied by learning to bake. He wants to smuggle a treacle tart into Barclay for you. If he manages not to burn it, I shall ask the bearer of the Secret Comma to take it with my letter instead: baking we might teach him, but subterfuge I suspect we may not. I feel a little lighter for having written this down. Whether our mysterious friend can stay long enough to take a reply I do not know, but it will be enough for me to know that you know my thoughts. I am not an easy Maria to understand. I would like to be a little easier, just for my Mama. I shall write again by official channels as soon as I have news less vulnerable to prying eyes. In the meantime, rest assured that everything at work and at home is in hand. You may have raised a peculiar sort of child, but you did not raise an incompetent one - and, strange though she may be, she means to make you proud. I am, and forever shall be, Your loving daughter Maria

(The cheesecloth parcel contains a miniature treacle tart, about the size of the Doctor’s palm. It is heart-shaped. The edges are a little darker and crunchier than they ought to be, but it is nevertheless delicious. Looks like he didn’t burn it after all.)

(.... You've proved yourself capable of learning, Lovett. There is hope for you yet.) (But this letter...) (Of course I remember that All Hallow's Eve. I remember thinking that I must have made some grievous misstep, at the time.) (I suppose not.) ".......Maria..." "To think that she's made this much progress. To read her words here, I hardly feel worthy of it." "As for you, listen to me--" "I---I cannot possibly form an appropriate reply for you to take back without spending the whole night." "But..." "Please tell my daughter that I send my thanks, and that I... I look forward to seeing her again." "And inform my husband that it would behoove him to practice his baking more." "I will graciously dispose of the failed attempts."

—————–

Relevant ask

Check this page for credits

[one-page-a-day]

3rd of August 2023

Starting my day with reading R. M. Rilke: Letters to a young poet. It's a collection of 10 short letters and I read them in about 2 hours.

The letters offer comfort to me just like I hoped they would. Soon I will have to step out of university and into employment and I don't yet know precisely where the road will take me. To hear Rilke speak to a young man walking in the same shoes as me offered me reassurance. By that I mean not advice for how to find my way but for how to perceive my becoming. Which is: with patience and love for it all.

Early on Rilke refers to J. P. Jacobsen, I hope to read some of his work soon. Rilke writes - and I translate from German - that while reading Jacobsen a "world will overcome you, the joy, the abundance, the incomprehensible magnitude of a world. Live a while in these books, learn from them, what appears worth learning to you, but most of all love them." (p. 13)

And then there is, for Rilke, one artist that has no match in all of the arts: Auguste Rodin, whos work cannot be read, only seen.

Rilke writes (beautifully): "You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to ask you, as much as I can, sir, to be patient against all that is unresolved in your heart and to try to hold the questions themselves dear like closed parlors and like books written in a very foreign language. Don't seek out answers now that can't be given to you, because you could not live them. And it is about living everything. Live those questions now. Maybe you live gradually without noticing one distant day into the answers. Maybe you carry inside you the possibility to build and to form, as a particular blissful and pure way of life; train yourself to it, - but accept that, what comes, with great trust, even if it comes from your will alone, from some need of your inner self, so take it upon yourself and hate nothing." (p. 21)

Rilke writes about loneliness and sadness and about God: "Be patient and without reluctance and think, that the least we can do is to not make his becoming harder than how the earth makes it for the spring, when he wants to come." (p. 33)

What most surprised me is how Rilke writes about women: "This personhood of the woman lived out in pain and degradation will come to light, when she strips off the conventions of just-femininity in the transformations of her outer class, and the men that don't feel it coming today will be surprised and stroke. One day (for which now, at least in the Nordic countries, reliable signs speak and glow), one day the girl will be there and the woman, whos name will not merely mean an opposite to masculinity, but something on its own, something, where one doesn't think of completion and boundary, only of living and being-: the female human." (p. 39)

Rainer Maria Rilke: Briefe an einen jungen Dichter. Leipzig: Insel Verlag 2023.

[cevansbrat0007]

That First Night

Summary: You and Andy bring your little BiBi Barber home for the first time. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca Barber

*Warnings: Fluff, Emotional Andy, Emotional Reader, Mentions of Jacob Barber, Allusions to Religion, Minors DNI

A/N: Writing this made me cry. Part of this idea is courtesy of @writer84​ and her lovely brain. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

___

You walk through your front door holding your little Bianca in your arms. “Welcome home, baby.” You coo down at her restless, wriggling form. “I can’t wait to show you your nursery. We did it all for you.” Her eyes are closed, but she turns her head towards the sound of your voice and huffs out a little breath. 

You’d fed her right before you’d all left the hospital, so you knew she wasn’t hungry. Not yet anyway. It would most likely be a couple of hours, which you and Andy would use to sleep. 

Good lord, your baby was beautiful. The nurses had thought so too. They hadn’t been able to stop playing with her hair. It seemed like every time they brought her to you she was sporting a different colored ribbon. 

“Come on, Daddy.” You softly call over to your husband as he struggles inside clutching her carrier, as well as the plethora of stuffed animals you and your daughter had received. “We need to put her to bed.”

“I’m coming.” He growls.

Your Andy Bear had been in a mood for a while. He had spent the entire drive home complaining about how people drove too fast. He’d honked his horn and everything. The man had even threatened to prosecute someone at a stop light. And all you could do was rub his arm.

The two of you walk your baby girl up the stairs and into her room. It’s decorated in an array of pinks and purples. The letters “Bibbity Boop” cling to the wall behind her crib. 

“I’ll swaddle her.” Andy tells you, holding out his hands for her. You give her to him, noting how small she looks in his large hands. Once that’s done, he gives her a gentle kiss and places her in the crib. You both look down at her and sigh. 

“We did good, Mama.” Andy murmurs, grabbing your hand and kissing it..

“We sure did, Daddy.” 

A little later that night, you awaken to find yourself alone in bed. Where was Andy? Had the baby woken up?

You climb out of your warm little cocoon and go off in search of your husband. Your first stop? BiBi’s nursery. You pause at the door when you hear your Big Man’s voice. Who was he talking to?

“God, look, I know you and I don’t really talk. We haven’t since Jacob. And I know that’s wrong, but I’ve just been so…mad at you.”

Your hand goes to cover your mouth when you see him kneeling next to your daughter’s crib. Poor, sweet man.

“But now, here’s the thing. I’ve got this woman who came into my life. And I know you sent her to me, so thank you for that. And then she gave me this gift. This sweet, precious, 7lb 8oz gift - on my birthday of all days. And we got to bring her home today.”

A tear slides down your cheek.

“You see God, I need them. I need my girls. I need them like I need to breathe. So please, I’m begging you. Give me the power I need to always protect them, to always keep them safe, to always love them the way they need to be loved. Please shape me into the father that I need to be. The father my beautiful Bianca Maria Barber deserves.”

Now you’re full blown crying. Oh, Andy…

“And if you cross paths with Jacob up there, please tell him daddy loves him. Thank you. Amen.”

Finished with his prayer, your husband sits down. Before you can stop yourself, you go to him. 

“I love you.” You capture your man’s tear-stained face in your hands. “More than my need to breathe.” And then you kiss him.

END  

[thesokovianaccords]

38 for the pairing of your choice!

38) Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait

“Holy shit.” Steve covered his face with his hands and moaned. “Oh my god. Oh bloody - oh fuck.”

Sam’s head popped up over their shared cubicle. “You good, man?”

“I’m screwed, Sam. How did this happen? What am I gonna do?” Steve banged his forehead against his desk, narrowly missing his favorite coffee mug. It had been a gift from Peggy after he published his first profile piece on Secretary Potts, reading “get (sh)it done” in big, bold lettering. It had made him laugh at the time, but just like the framed SharkNATO meme and the vintage shoe-phone replica from after their Get Smart marathon, his desk wouldn’t look quite complete without it.

“Okay, what happened? Did your interview fall through? Did you get fired? Did whats-his-face tweet a gif of him smashing your face in again?”

“Sam.” Steve turned to his friend, his face drained of all color. “I think I’m in love with my roommate.”

“Since when do you have a roommate?” On his other side, an overly caffeinated Peter Parker’s head appeared above the cubicle wall. 

Steve spun around to him, confused. “What’re you talking about, Queens? You spent twenty minutes talking to her at the holiday party two months ago.”

“Peggy’s your roommate? I totally thought you guys were dating.”

“What?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I hate to agree with Parker on anything, but I thought you guys were together when I first met her too. Back me up, Barnes.”

A hand dropped heavily on Steve’s shoulder as Bucky stepped up behind him. “Steve, you’ve been in love with Peggy for years. Like, since about two hours after you met her.”

“I’m…I…what?” Steve’s eyes darted between the three of them, his heart beating faster and faster. “Oh fuck. Did everybody know except me?”

“Yes,” His editor, Maria, shouted from across the newsroom.

He couldn’t take a full breath. “Does…does Peggy know?”

Bucky snorted. “Absolutely not. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, but wow is she as bad as you at reading these signals. I’ve had to watch you two dumbasses dance around each other for half our lives. It’s enough to make a man go mad.”

“Is that why you’ve got those gray hairs at your temples?” Bucky spun on his heel and took a step toward Peter’s desk, but he just laughed. “I’m gonna go…schedule some tweets. Good luck, Brooklyn.”

Steve ignored this, still trying to process the 180 that his worldview had taken against his will. “Dancing around each other?”

Sam groaned. “For god’s sake, man. Pull yourself together. That woman is the best thing that ever happened to you, and I’ve never seen anyone look at someone the way she looks at you.”

 Unable to handle his frantic energy at this revelation, Steve pushed himself against the desk and jumped to his feet. “Holy…okay, I need to get home. I need flowers, I need a new tie. I need…Maria!” Steve shouted. “I’m taking a sick day.”

“You’re lucky I like Peggy,” she yelled back. “I’ll be writing about this for the newsletter.”

But Steve was already out the door. He had a date to plan.

[handfuloftime]

Time for a post about my favorite improbable romance of the Napoleonic era!

Maria de las Nieves Dominique Antoinette Rita Josèphe Louise Catherine Martinez de Hervas was barely fourteen when she married Géraud Christophe Michel Duroc in 1802. The daughter of a Spanish banker and diplomat, she had been educated at Madame Campan’s school along with Hortense de Beauharnais, Caroline Bonaparte, and several other young women who would go on to marry marshals or generals.

While not the outright disaster that some of the other marriages that Napoleon arranged were, the couple’s relationship seems to have been distant. Duroc stayed in Paris, busy with his duties as Grand Marshal, while Hervas spent much of her time at the château de Clémery, outside Duroc’s hometown of Pont-à-Mousson in Lorraine, accompanied by her sister-in-law Jeanne Magdeleine Duroc. It was there that she met Charles Nicolas Fabvier in 1805. 

Also a native of Pont-à-Mousson, Fabvier was a decade younger than Duroc; after studying at the École polytechnique, he had joined the Grande Armée as an artillery officer in 1804. What Hervas initially thought of Fabvier, we don’t know; he became a family friend, though that may have been Duroc taking an interest in a fellow officer from Pont-à-Mousson. Fabvier, however, fell hopelessly in love with Hervas. 

Writing to his brother Nicolas in 1808 from Constantinople, where he had accompanied a diplomatic mission, Fabvier reflected on the intensity of his feelings: “I’m afraid it’s a disease. In the midst of my labors, while crossing the desert, on horseback, I always find her in the same place, face to face with me...”

In another letter to his brother, he continued: “I have such a veneration, such a high opinion of her that I don’t dare speak of it without permission. If you could only see, if she knew that throughout three years’ absence I thought of her every instant!...But what’s the use? She is a princess now; would she still recognize an unhappy knight, even by name? In short, that woman never leaves my thoughts, let alone my heart. May God bless her and bring her happiness.”

After returning from Constantinople, Fabvier became Marmont’s aide de camp in 1811, and fought in the Peninsular War. He rode the entire length of Europe in the summer of 1812 to bring Napoleon news of Marmont’s defeat at Salamanca, arriving on the eve of the battle of Borodino.

His long absences from France did nothing to dull his feelings for Hervas. After visiting her in Paris in the spring of 1813, he wrote to his brother, who must have had the patience of a saint: “Her presence illuminates, her approach warms; she passes by and one is content; she pauses and one is happy; to regard her is to live; she is dawn in human form; she does nothing else but be there, that suffices, she Edenizes the house, she exudes a paradise.”

As Marmont’s aide-de-camp, Fabvier took part in the campaign of 1813 in central Europe, which meant that he was present for Duroc’s death that May. Having visited the dying man once to say goodbye—”He recognized me,” he told Nicolas, “[and] bade me farewell with kindness and calm”—he returned again later that night, spending hours at Duroc’s side. He wrote to his brother a few days later: “I can’t describe to you all the grievous pains that overwhelmed me while, sitting on a bench and without him seeing me, I watched the man who had been so happy until now…I wanted to speak to him, to help him to move. I never dared.” In his journal, he was more frank about the conflicting feelings produced by seeing his beloved Hervas’s husband mortally wounded: “I fended off, or rather I avoided having, those [thoughts] that I should not have had. I owe myself this fairness. But Nives [sic], if you weep for him, why did I not die for him!”

Later, he added: “Strange fortune! Do you show me the possibility to make me feel my unhappiness all the more keenly? Her rank. Her family. The Emperor. Such obstacles that I'll never overcome…” He worried about the effect the news would have on Hervas, who had already suffered the death of her fifteen-month-old son in 1812. He told Nicolas not to mention him to her in case that would remind her of Duroc—”unless you’re asked whether I wish I could have taken the unlucky bullet; reply: yes”.

After Napoleon’s downfall, Fabvier spent much of the early 1820s getting arrested on suspicion of being involved in Bonapartist plots to overthrow the government. In 1823, after being acquitted for a second time due to lack of evidence, he left France for Greece, where he became a hero in the War of Independence. Hervas remained at Clémery, raising her young daughter Hortense, and was eventually granted a pension by Charles X. When Fabvier returned to France in the late 1820s, he found Hervas still greatly affected by the losses she had suffered, and wrote to his brother (as always) that he “trembled lest fortune send that unfortunate woman yet another horrible blow”.

His words proved prophetic: Hortense Duroc died of pneumonia in September 1829, aged just seventeen. Hervas was so overwhelmed by Hortense’s death that doctors feared for her life; ordered to travel abroad for her health, she went to Italy, accompanied by Fabvier. They visited Hortense de Beauharnais, who was living in Switzerland, and returned to France shortly before the July Revolution.

Twenty-six years after they’d first met, Hervas and Fabvier were married in Paris on May 16, 1831. Their son, Louis Charles Eugène, was born in December of that year.

Fabvier had his happy ending at last; it’s less clear what Hervas felt. Passages from Fabvier’s letters and journal survive in a pair of early twentieth-century biographies, but none of Hervas’s writing, letters or otherwise, is publicly available. Perhaps she shared Fabvier’s feelings; perhaps, after the devastating death of her daughter, she simply wanted stability. Regardless of how she felt about Fabvier, Hervas seems to have considered Hortense’s death, as well as the death of her first son, the defining events of her life. When she died in December 1871, having outlived her second husband by sixteen years, she left money for a funeral monument with the inscription “To the unhappiest of mothers”.

Images: “La baronne Fabvier,” in W. Sérieyx, Un géant de l’action: le général Fabvier (1933), which gives no information about the artist or date. “Charles Fabvier (1782-1855)”, artist unknown, The War Museum, Athens, Greece.

[thetudorslovers]

"It is a crafty ploy, but only a low and vulgar mind would think to halt Medusa with honey."-Laura Cereta, “A Defense of the Liberal Instruction of Women”

Laura Cereta, imitating the humanist writers of her day, crafted Latin letters in the form of orations and invectives on such themes as marriage and family, education, fate and fortune, solitude, avarice, war, and consolations on death. Like the first great humanist Petrarch, Cereta claimed to seek fame and immortality through her writing. Indeed, it appears that her letters were intended for a general audience -- they were written over a brief period of time (between 1485 and 1488), some of the correspondents were fictitious, and her father sent a number of them to the Dominican friar Tommaso of Milan, who wrote back praising them. Cereta assembled 82 of her letters in a volume, together with a burlesque dialogue on the death of an ass, and dedicated it to her patron, Cardinal Ascanius Maria Sforza, possibly seeking legitimization as a writer. This volume remained unpublished until the seventeenth century, but circulated in manuscript form between 1488 and 1492 among humanists in Brescia, Verona, and Venice.

Because her Latin composition was so good, some intellectuals accused her of plagiarism. One critic even sent his wife to demand proof on the spot of her writing abilities. Faced with such opposition, Cereta responded with one of the finest defenses on the education of women in Quattrocento Italy. In it, she proposes that a woman can be just as learned as a man if she applies herself: "[K]nowledge is not given [to women] as a gift, but [is gained] with diligence" (quoted in Shibanoff 190).

Cereta's life provides a good illustration of the type of dedication she advocated. She was born in Brescia in 1469 to Silvestro Cereto, an attorney and magistrate, and Veronica di Leno, a descendent of an old Brescian family. At the age of seven, Cereta was sent to a convent to learn religious principles and the rudiments of reading and writing. This was not uncommon for girls her age during this period. What appears unusual is that she suffered from insomnia for two years. In her writings, she relates how she spent many sleepless nights in the convent reading and doing embroidery. When she was nine, her doting father brought her home from the convent so she could help care for her younger siblings. She remained accustomed to the habit of staying up late at night after all the chores were done in order to read. In addition to learning Latin and Greek from her father, Cereta also showed great interest in mathematics, astrology, agriculture, and her favorite subject, moral philosophy. At fifteen or sixteen years of age (1484 or 1485), she married a Brescian businessman, Pietro Serina, and unlike most learned women of her time, continued to study just as intensely as before she was married. After eighteen months of marriage, her husband died of a fever (most likely a version of the plague) and Cereta remained childless. She mourned his death but found consolation in her studies. When she was eighteen years old, she delivered her first public oration, and two years later, it is believed by her early biographers that she began a seven year career of teaching moral philosophy, although there are no public records that verify her position as a teacher.

To many scholars, Cereta's early writings combine classical ideals with religious beliefs while her later writings reveal a tension between humanism and religion. Since none of her writings exist from the last eleven years of her life, it is difficult to know what she thought in her later years about linking secular and religious subjects. Perhaps we may assume that Cereta followed the advice of her spiritual advisor, Brother Tommaso, who urged her in multiple letters (1487) to turn from her studies to a greater religious commitment. Following the deaths of her husband and father, the two men who supported her intellectual endeavors, it appears that Cereta struggled to understand and maintain her position as a learned Christian woman in a society that valued women primarily for their domestic and religious involvement.

"My ears are wearied by your carping. You brashly and publicly not merely wonder but indeed lament that I am said to possess as fine a mind as nature ever bestowed upon the most learned man. You seem to think that so learned a woman has scarcely before been seen in the world. You are wrong on both counts, Sempronius, and have dearly strayed from the path of truth and disseminate falsehood…You pretend to admire me as a female prodigy, but there lurks sugared deceit in your adulation. You wait perpetually in ambush to entrap my lovely sex, and overcome by your hatred seek to trample me underfoot and dash me to the earth."

[scatteredprayerbeads]

From Maria Popova’s article “Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Exquisite Polyamorous Love Letters from the 1920s”

Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892–October 19, 1950) was only thirty-one when she became the third woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry. ...[H]er extraordinary poetic potency sprang from her boundless capacity for love and beauty — a capacity so boundless that she fell in love frequently and intensely, with both men and women, often with multiple people at the same time. 

[ID: sepia colored photograph of Edna St. Vincent Millay embraced on either side by her lover Arthur Ficke and her husband Eugen Jan Boissevain. Ficke and Boissevain both have suit jackets on and serious faces, while Millay wears a dress and cloak and smiles at the viewer. / end ID]

In her early twenties, shortly after she wrote those beautiful love letters to the British silent film actress Edith Wynne Matthison, Millay became besotted with the poet, playwright, and Japanese art scholar Arthur Davidson Ficke and they embarked on a decade-long epistolary romance of exhilarating intensity. ...

[B]y the beginning of winter [1921], Millay had started falling in love with the writer Witter Bynner, nicknamed Hal — a friend of Ficke’s since their college days at Harvard. Here was a love that didn’t, as she insisted over and over again to both men, detract from her feelings for Arthur. ...[F]or her, as she so movingly articulates in a letter to Hal from 1922, love was never a zero-sum game:

It is true that I love Arthur. But we have all known that for some time — haven’t we? — I shall love him always. He is something to me that nobody else is. But why should that trouble you, Hal? Don’t you love him, too? Don’t you love several people? — If you loved me, I should not want you to love only me. I should think less highly of you if you did. For surely, one must be either undiscerning, or frightened, to love only one person, when the world is so full of gracious and noble spirits.

The very next day, 30-year-old Millay writes to Arthur:

It doesn’t matter with whom you fall in love, nor how often, nor how sweetly. All that has nothing to do with what we are to each other, nothing at all to do with You and Me.

With this, she informs him diagrammatically that she is considering marrying Hal:

Would you be sorry or glad if I did? … Of course, there is a very geometrical reason why I should. We should make such a beautiful design, don’t you see, — Hal and you and I. Three variable and incommensurate souls automatically resolved into two right angles, and no nonsense about it.

...Millay married neither Arthur nor Hal. The following year, she married another man altogether — Eugen Jan Boissevain, the widower of the trailblazing lawyer and war correspondent Inez Milholland. Over the course of their 26-year open marriage, both Millay and Boissevain had frequent relationships with other people but maintained a deep love for one another until death did them part. They died within a year of each other.

[ID: black and white photo of Millay from the shoulders up: she wears a jacket with a shirt with a large white collar; her hair is short and she gazes downward towards the righthand corner of the photo with only the slightest smile on her serious face. / end ID]

[nat-20s]

Much Ado Beatrice playlist ? (also, ignore me accidentally unfollowing and following you a bunch there bc the follow/unfollow button is right next to the ask one)

OOOOO okay!!

Woman- Kesha Let's drive around town in my Cadillac Girls in the front, boys in the back Loosey as a goosey and we're looking for some fun I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, alright I don’t need a man to be holding me too tight I’m a motherfucking woman, baby, that's right I’m just having fun with my ladies here tonight I'm a motherfucker

I feel as if this one is self explanatory. Side note: Beatrice would fucking DOMINATE with a girl group

I Won't Say I'm in Love- Hercules

Give up, give in Check the grin, you're in love

This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love You're doin' flips Read our lips, you're in love You're way off base (Shoo-do, shoo-do) I won't say it (She won't say it, no) Get off my case (Sha-da, sha-da) I won't say it Girl, don't be proud It's okay, you're in love Oh At least, out loud I won't say I'm in love

Beatrice literally writing sappy love letters: no no no I don't even LIKE Benedick >:(

Bad Karma- Ida Maria

You better believe in karma Just look at the sorry shape you're in There's a doll with your name and your gloomy face And the department up doing a rush on your case You better believe in voodoo, babe I got a long list of your sins There's a word you might have heard called payback And I'm runnin' out of pins

GOD THAT I WERE A MAN!!!! I WOULD EAT HIS HEART!!! IN THE MARKETPLACE!!

I’ve Been Waiting For You- ABBA

I, I've been in love before I thought I would no more Manage to hit the ceiling Still, strange as it seems to me You brought it back to me That old feeling I, I don't know what you do You make me think that you Possibly could release me I think you'll be able to Make all my dreams come true And you ease me You thrill me, you delight me You please me, you excite me You're something I'd been pleading for I love you, I adore you I've laid my life before you I'll have you want me more and more And finally it seems my lonely days are through I've been waiting for you

Something something Bea and Ben clearly have YEARS of history and my personal theory is less that they fell in love than they fell BACK in love

[liddolwhynot2000]

Signal

____________________________________

Summary: And Petra had to watch as you cemented your place in the heart of the man she could only dream about.

Pairings: One Sided! Petra/Levi, Levi/Reader

Genre: Angst, one sided love

____________________________________

Soldiers in the Survey Corps had an extremely low life expectancy, so no one ever bothered to make long term plans for themselves. Petra was the same--except a part of her traitorously dreamed of a life that wasn't meant to be.

For she doubted she'd live long enough to see it become her reality.

She imagined that someday, they would end the titans. They would walk outside the walls, breathe in its fresh air and be celebrated as heroes. A far fetched dream, but one she couldn't get out of her head.

After joining the Special operations Squad, she had begun to hope even more. Captain Levi and his stregnth had made her imagine a future for all of them. His calm and composed demeanour, no matter how awful the situation, inspired her to work harder and do better.

But what began to affect her most was the man himself. The way he sometimes smiled a little into his teacup. How cleaning gave him joy. How collecting tea leaves was a hobby he hid from everyone. Little by little, she learned these things about him, and they only made her heart beat faster.

Slowly, her dreams began to involve the Captain. Once titans were gone, she would confess to him. She had never seen him around any other woman, knew for a fact that he wasn't in any relationships, so her mind conjured up a world where he would accept her feelings. He would allow her to give him all her love and attention--and he would fall for her right back.

The two them would get married someday--and maybe even have children. Her father already liked him- having heard more then enough good things about him in her letters home. She could see a nice life with him in her future.

She knew better then to confess right now. Titans were very much alive and kicking outside the walls, but she figured it was only a matter of time they got together. She was the only woman who knew how to make his tea, the one he consulted on what suit to wear and one of the few people who could approach him when he was in a bad mood. He never said anything, but Petra thought her feelings were clear enough. While he never made a move towards her, the fact that he never outright rejected her gave her more then enough hope. So she decided to just wait it out and observe for any signals on his part. To hint that he was ready for more.

The day they set out outside of Wall Maria, and found out that they had in fact gotten rid of all titans, Petra began to dream even more. Her desired reality was so close--just one signal and she would be on her way to the life she wanted.

She waited, hoping for the signal. Maybe Captain looking at her a little too long when she was dressed up, or asking her to stay back more, in order to spend more time together. Days went by, and she saw nothing.

Until one random day.

They had been out in town, having some free time. She had watched Captiam go into a jewellery store, and had felt her hopes rise. Just before leaving, he had asked her

'You- I mean, women like jewelery right? Earrings or some shit?'

Years of remaining composed in front of him had been the only reason she hadn't balantly blushed.

'Yes Captain. Bracelets and rings are nice too.'

He had hmphed and gone off to the jewellery store, coming out of it with a box in his hand. Petra had felt like her heart had leapt out of her chest at the sight of it. Could it be-would he really jump straight to-

Suffice to say, she had trouble sleeping that night.

The next day, she saw that box again--and it's contents. It had only been briefly, but she had seen the small sized golden hoops. Her heart had plummeted at it not being a ring- but it was still expensive jewellery. One that someone only bought for a special occasion.

So, with her heart giddy and nerves aflame, she waited. Petra went out of her way to give him ample opportunities to give it to her--staying up late to help him with paperwork, chatting more then usual while bringing his tea. The signal was almost there. She could see it.

And she did see it.

Except it wasn't for her.

His eyes did glint- with softness and possessiveness--but not for Petra.

He did start spending more time with someone, but not with Petra.

It was you. The newly hired cook for the Garrison Engineers.

How did she know it was you?

She had seen you wearing those earrings. Late at night. While stumbling out of the Captain's office, with your hair and clothes ruffled up.

By all means, you were a nobody. An ant in the grand scheme of things. But, you had ended up being the most important person in the world of Humanity's Strongest Soldier.

And Petra had to watch as you cemented your place in the heart of the man she could only dream about.

She tried to pretend it wasn't happening--but it was. Captain Levi was doing everything she had ever wanted him to, but none of it was for her.

He would smile softly at you when he thought no one was looking. Go into jewellery stores and buy expensive jewellery for you. Even on missions off the island- he would go into stores to buy you gifts. She had seen you wear them. His lunch breaks were almost always with you and if one arrived at the right time- they would see you setting out to work from his room each morning.

She resented it all- a part of her hoping it would all fall apart. That it wouldn't work. But she squashed those thoughts down and carried her broke heart as she worked.

It would work for a few years--even though they had been incredibly painful for her, having to watch the man she was desperately in love with be so close--yet so far.

None of her resentment had affected his life--he had gone on to become a family man. Getting married, having children, buying a house.

She had thought that one day he would signal her, and they would do all those things together. Who would have thought that she had been thinking of walking on a road with someone, who clearly never meant to take her along?

And who would have thought she'd try to join him on that road- walk alongside him- against his will?

Not Petra. Or at least, not the old Petra.

When Premier Zackley called her into his office and made her that ludicrous offer, to marry the Captain. To bear his children, in order to ensure the Ackerman strength would accompany the military in the future, the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

'Yes. I'll do it.'

Some people had to be okay with others tagging along in their walks, even if they didn't want them to. Her head knew better, but her heart, desperate for the man that had it in its hold, said that maybe the Captain would be too.

She was proven wrong the very next day--because Humanity's Strongest Soldier had quit the military. For you.

____________________________________

A/N: I wrote this randomly because I- have too much time on my hands apparently. I don't actually but I'm lazy and- okay back to the note let's not expose me today.

So, this is set in the 'Falling' Universe. Its a sequel to it. I made it so, you can understand this as a stand alone. But if you want to read this in order then:

(1) Falling

(2) Signal

(3) For you

I wish I knew how to link these 😭😭. If anyone knows how, please DM.

I know I was supposed to write a confession chapter--and I have it drafted. But I need some more time, so here's some angst to hold y'all over!I hope you enjoyed! My asks are open-so request away. Till next time!