#widow mercedes

[heckcareoxytwit]

After a battle between Captain America's group and White Wolf's werewolf army, Steve Rogers finds his adoptive son, Ian Rogers/Zola alive and well but the latter (Ian) refuses to leave as he decides to stay in Dimension Z. Ian Rogers becomes a new ruler so the first thing he does is to stop the Dimension Z Werewolves from invading the countries. Neither Steve Rogers nor Bucky Barnes believe that Ian is capable of controlling the monsters and ruling Dimension Z as a new ruler. However, Bucky and Sam Wilson convince Steve that he has to stay in Dimension Z as Ian's advisor and fatherly figure because of his leadership skills. In the end, the group went on separate ways - Sam Wilson and Misty Knight went home, Peggy Carter and Black Widow wandered off, Bucky and Ian become buddies and lastly, Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter stay in Dimension Z to keep their eyes on Ian and Bucky.

Captain America: Cold War Omega #1, 2023

- - - - -

Ummm....What the hell?

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[pennink-witch]

Found a post talking about this but now it's nowhere to be seen, so I'm making my own. This is basically a long way of saying, 'I want to write a historically-accurate medieval fantasy'.

Teenage marriage and pregnancy were not normal in medieval Europe

A lot of fantasy writers depict the whole of medieval society like it was a competition to get young women knocked up. In fact, in the early modern period, the average age for marriage was around 26. This is skewed by the number of widows and widowers remarrying, but even taking that into account, the average age isn't anything we would find unusual today.

Early marriage is often (I'm looking at you, Mercedes Lackey), depicted as something peasants did as well as the gentry and nobility, but in fact peasants tended not to do this. Men would usually wait until they had some means of supporting a family before they started looking for one.

Nor were the nobles always palming their children off to older spouses. Betrothals from a young age were common, but the actual marriage was usually carried out later. There's also a difference between the marriage ceremony and the consumation (i.e. sex). If a political marriage became an incovenience, it could be annulled and one of the reasons that could be given was that it hadn't been consummated. (Side note: Another reason was degrees of familiarity. In theory, the Church prohibited marriage between people with up to seven degrees of kinship, which is waaaaay more stringent than we have now.)

The reason, I think, this myth has come about is partly because the legal age for marriage was itself quite low: 12 for boys and 13 for girls. But that's just the lowest age it was possible, it doesn't mean that everyone got married at that age.

I also suspect (and this is just supposition) that Marion Zimmer Bradley and her ilk might have something to do with it. Her most famous book, The Mists of Avalon, has been hugely popular and influential for years, but it does use the early/child marriage thing to a very weird degree. It creeped me out so much I had to top reading it and give the book away. This probably has something to do with the fact that she was also connected to a paedophile case. Possibly not the best source for medieval sexual mores.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, so normally I just...ignore creators who can't be bothered to include women, LTGBTQIA, and BIPOC authors in Fantasy Book Lists, but today I'm tired and grouchy and this goddamn video pissed me off because it's a vast majority of white dudes and their fantastical man pain. SO. I would like to just toss out some NOT white male fantasy authors because frankly I am *so tired* of white dudes retreading Tolkien and Robert Jordan forever. So let's celebrate some amazing fantasy authors who tend not to make these lists.

I'll give the author (and a book to start with).

- Mercedes Lackey (Arrows of the Queen)

- Tamora Pierce (Sandry's Book)

- Fonda Lee (Jade City)

- India Holton (The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels)

- NE Davenport (The Blood Trials)

- Naomi Novik (His Majesty's Dragon)

- Moniquill Blackgoose (To Shape A Dragon's Breath)

- CE Murphy (Urban Shaman)

- Sue Lynn Tan (Daughter of the Moon Goddess)

- Chloe Gong (These Violent Delights)

- Judy I. Lin (A Magic Steeped in Poison)

- Tasha Suri (The Jasmine Throne)

- Xiran Jay Zhao (Iron Widow)

- Jordan Ifueko (Raybearer)

- Chelsea Abdullah (The Stardust Thief)

- Tracy Deonn (Legendborn)

- Gabi Burton (Sing Me to Sleep)

- Brittany N. Williams (That Self-Same Metal)

- Juliet Marillier (Dreamer's Pool)

- Stephanie Burgis (Scales and Sensibility)

- Allison Saft (A Fragile Enchantment)

- Chloe Neill (The Bright and Breaking Sea)

- Olivia Atwater (Half a Soul)

- Heather Fawcett (Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faerie)

- MA Carrick (The Mask of Mirrors)

- Kristin Cashore (Graceling)

- Marie Brennan (A Natural History of Dragons)

- Maya Ibrahim (The Spice Road)

- HM Long (Dark Water Daughter)

- Aparna Verma (The Phoenix King)

And these are just the ones I can see on my bookshelves by turning my head without moving from my chair. There are DOZENS of others who I apologize for missing and who are absolutely worth reading. If I missed one of your favorites, add it to the list with a reblog, and let's stop defaulting to filling fantasy author lists with white dudes.

[ktwritesstuff]

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 1

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: PG (Later chapters will be explicit) Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Sarah's babysitter has a thing for Joel. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl, The Last of Us's number one fangirlie. <3

Part 1 (below cut) | Part 2 (posted 2/2) | Part 3 (posted 2/6) | Part 4 (posted 2/10) | Part 5 (posted 2/14) | Part 6 (posted 4/2) | Part 7 (posted 7/29) | Part 8 (posted 5/13)

Austin 2002

“Hey, Sweetpea!”

You looked up at the sound of your childhood nickname, not sure right away who was calling for you.  In a small town familiarity was de rigueur.  You went to school with people referred to exclusively as Cooter, Biggie, and Ears, so it could have been worse. 

You were waiting for the bus just outside the school cafeteria when your brother, Paul, came over in his football uniform.  He almost never talked to you at school, so you figured he wanted something.  He was old for his grade and had made the varsity team as a sophomore; your parents were over-the-moon.  In your opinion, it had gone to his head.

“You have a dollar?  I want to get a gatorade before practice.”

“Here,” you dug through your purse and fished out your last dollar, rolling your eyes as he sprinted off toward the vending machines without so much as a thank you.

“We’re going to the mall when Andy gets out of practice, you wanna come?” Your best friend, Cheryl, asked.  

“I can’t,” you said.  “I’m babysitting.”  

“Nah,” your friend Mercedes teased.  “She’s got a hot date with Papi Joel.”

“Oh my God,” Cheryl laughed.  “That’s so messed up, stop it.”

“Yeah, that’s super weird,” you laughed along, hoping they wouldn’t notice the blush rising in your cheeks.

The truth was, you had long-harbored a crush on your handsome neighbor down the block: rugged good looks and soulful brown eyes, hardworking, good with his hands, a loving father, the whole package left you feeling weak in the knees.  But you would never say so, not even to your best friend.  As nice as it was to daydream about, you knew it could never happen and admitting it would just make you look desperate and pathetic.

“Seriously though,” Mercedes insisted.  “If you had to pick a dad, he’s primo DILF material.”

“JJ’s dad is kinda hot,” Tina said, stubbing out her joint on the sidewalk ramp.

“JJ’s dad isn’t hot,” Mercedes corrected.  “He just lets us party in his barn–besides, clearly Mr. Miller has ulterior motives. What 12 year old still needs a babysitter?”

It was true, Sarah was getting a little old for a sitter, but Joel still asked you to keep an eye on her.  You figured he wanted her to have another girl to talk to.  Someone older and wiser she could confide in about bullies, to go shopping with her, and teach her how to use a tampon.  On paper, you were a certified good-influence: a church-going honors student, marching band, a literal Girl Scout.  

Joel couldn’t afford to pay you much, but he was a good guy.  He kept your favorite snacks in the house and gave you rides when your daddy wouldn’t let you use the Jeep; last summer he had installed a phone jack in your room so you could have your own line.  More than that, Sarah was actually a pretty cool kid; you liked hanging out with her.

“Seriously, Mercedes,” you warned.  “I know you’re just fucking around, but you can’t talk like that.  Not at school.  That’s the kind of shit that got Mr. Spaden put on a watchlist.” 

“That and flashing sixth period APUSH,” Mercedes laughed.   

“He’s like a widower, right?”  Tina asked.  “Kind of emo.”

Your brow furrowed.  

“I don’t know,” you admitted.  “They don’t really talk about Sarah’s mom.”

“I mean, she has to be dead, right?” Cheryl said.  “What kind of mom would just abandon her kid like that?”

You shrugged.  “Maybe that’s why they don’t talk about her.”   

The Millers’ house was just two streets over from yours.  At 4pm you met Sarah at her bus stop and walked her home.  

“So how was school?” you asked.  

Sarah shrugged.  “You know, it’s school.”

You wrapped an arm around Sarah, giving her an encouraging squeeze as you walked.  

“Guess what I brought,” you said, reaching into your bag for your copy of Clueless on dvd.  “We can make popcorn and paint our nails, give you a little makeover.  What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Sarah leaned into you. “As long as you use real butter this time.  None of that diet crap that gave me the shits.”  

“Well excuse me,” you rolled your eyes.  “Not all of us can be effortlessly thin.”  

You ordered pizza–an indulgence, but Joel insisted on treating when he had to work late–and put on the movie.  By the time the credits rolled your mani-pedis had time to set, so you brought out your makeup bag and let Sarah pick out a CD to put in the stereo–some twangy duet.  A man and a woman singing along to a surprisingly cheerful tune.

Bye bye love, bye bye happiness Hello loneliness, I think I’m gonna cry…

“What happened to Destiny’s Child?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Sarah stuck her tongue out.  “It’s one of my dad’s.”

You knew Sarah had more alternative sensibilities–even more than yours–and sometimes struggled to fit in.  She didn’t shop at Hollister and Abercrombie, she didn’t have straight hair and pencil-thin eyebrows.  She didn’t even have a traditional family.  Everyone wanted to belong somewhere, but you hoped with a little guidance, Sarah could avoid some of the pitfalls you had faced in high school and figure out she didn’t have to change herself for the sake of others.

“You don’t have to like something just because your dad does,” you said as Sarah took a seat on the carpet beside you.  “You have to decide for yourself–make your own way in the world.”  

“For your information,” Sarah said.  “Loretta Lynn is very punk.”

“Alright, punk,” you laughed.  “We can work with that.”

You gave Sarah a mirror to hold as you dusted her eyelids with sparkly blue shadow and showed her how to apply pencil to her waterline.  

“You’re pretty enough as it is,” you said, dipping a brush into the blush to apply on the apples of her cheeks.  “We’re just enhancing your natural beauty.”

Sarah shifted her seat, her brows furrowing with tension.

“How do you find somebody,” she asked.  “Someone you like and let them know you want to get to know them.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I think I’m the wrong person to ask,” you said with a laugh.  “I haven’t had much luck in that department.  Just be yourself, anyone who doesn’t appreciate that isn’t worth your time.”  

“There aren’t any boys you like at school?”  

“To be honest, high school boys are pretty gross,” you said.  “Why, is there someone you’re interested in?”

“Do you like my dad?”  Sarah blurted out.

You froze; the hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

“What?  Are you being funny?” you forced a laugh, setting down your makeup brushes.  Your ears burned red.  “Of course I like your dad.  He’s super nice.”

“No, I mean do you like him like him,” Sarah pressed.  “Do you think he’s cute…”

“He’s a good looking man,” you stammered, hoping it sounded like it was the first time this had occurred to you.  “You know, for a grown up.”

“He doesn’t have anybody,” Sarah frowned.  “Doesn’t go out..Meet people…Date.  If he’s a good guy and girls think he’s cute.  It’s gotta be me, don’t you think?  I’m the reason he’s alone.”

“Oh Sarah,” you sighed, taking her hands.  “It’s not you.  And even if it were, you’re worth it.  Your daddy loves you more than anything–I wish my parents had half as much interest in my life as your dad has in yours.  You are amazing; you have such a good heart.  So you can’t think like that, okay?  You are enough.  You are everything.”

Sarah nodded and you dabbed her eyes with a tissue before her mascara started running.  

“Come here, let me put on the finishing touch.” You swiped peach-flavored gloss across her lips.  “What do you think?”

“I look different,” she said, observing her reflection in the little compact mirror.  “I think I like it.”  

“You should keep this one,” you said, handing her the lip gloss.  “Color looks better on you.”

Sarah held the tube of gloss in both hands and finally cracked a smile.

“It’s getting late.  You go wash up before bed, alright,” you told her.  “You want to take a bubble bath?  I brought Warm Vanilla Sugar.” 

You waited downstairs while Sarah cleaned up; she changed into her pjs and was in bed by 10:30.  You nodded off on the couch for a bit until Joel came in a little after 11.

“Hey, Sweetpea, thanks for staying,” Joel said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a $20 out of his wallet for you.  “I really appreciate it.”

He looked tired.  In your half-dozing state, you wondered what it would be like to be the one he came home to at night.  To greet him at the door with a beer and a kiss.  To curl up on the couch together for movie nights with Sarah nestled between you.  To have someone to take care of and someone to take care of you.

“Yeah, of course,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes.  “She’s been good as gold.  Just got to bed about a half hour ago.”

“Let me just say goodnight and I’ll give you a ride home,” Joel said, heading up the stairs.  

You gathered your things while Joel tucked in Sarah.  He grabbed his keys and ushered you outside.  He opened the passenger side door of his truck for you to climb in.  

Joel started up the car and pulled out of the driveway.  His hand was resting on the gearshift.  You stretched, letting your hand brush against his.  He pulled away like you had burned him.  

“Your hands are freezing,” he said, reaching for the heater, turning the dial all the way up.  “It’ll warm up in a minute, put your hands up to the vent.”  

You drew your hands back into your lap, sitting stock-still and ashamed as Joel turned the car at the end of the cul de sac.   

“So how’s school going?” Joel asked, breaking the silence.

“Pretty good,” you nodded.

“You thinking about college, or–”

“Right now, UT Austin,” you said.  

“That’s a great school,” Joel said.  “Close to home.”  You watched a muscle in his jaw flex.

“It’s a guaranteed scholarship once I finish my Gold Award,” you said.  “I’m building a rosary garden for the church.”  That was if the stupid council ever approved your damn project.  Even after you had planted and mulched and hauled paving stones and gravel, they kept insisting you needed to do more.  Apparently anything less than solving world hunger fell short of their expectations–and yet the Eagle Scouts got all the prestige? 

“I remember, you were working on that the last time you came over,” he said.  “How’s it going?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might let me borrow some tools,” you said.  “I’m building a pergola, you know, to shade the Blessed Virgin.”

You chuckled and Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said.  “Can’t let the Blessed Virgin get heat stroke, right?”

“I really appreciate it,” you said, glancing sideways at him.  “My daddy’s kind of useless.”

“Your daddy’s a good man,” Joel said sternly as he turned the truck down your street.  “A good man.”

“I know.”  You stared out the window.  Your father had helped the Millers out after Tommy got arrested at Benji’s drive in for decking some guy for calling him a wetback.  But clearly Joel had never seen your daddy drunk.  “I just wouldn’t trust him around power tools.”

Joel stopped the car along the curb at the end of your driveway.  You held your breath as he reached over you to unlatch the door and push it open.  

“You go on now,” he instructed.  “I’ll watch you get in the door.” 

“Goodnight, Mr. Joel,” you said, sliding down from the seat of the truck.  You were keenly aware of his eyes on your back as you made your way down the driveway.  

You paused with your key in the front door, looking back down the drive before you stepped inside.  Joel was still waiting; you waved at him and he smiled back before shifting the car into gear as you closed the door.

[seat-safety-switch]

When I was growing up, the house down the street had an infestation of bats. The town was asked to do something about it, but thankfully didn’t bother finishing the job. These bats were totally harmless. While I will admit that there was an unfounded fear of rabies, this was basically due to anti-bat racism on the part of a real estate developer. Said developer saw a convenient excuse to knock down the place and start gentrifying our neighbourhood. Profits, not people, he probably said before most of him disappeared out in the woods.

Of course, when I put it like that, it’s going to sound suspicious. Surely, the owner of the bat-infested house must have had him murdered. This is a salacious lie, and it’s one that his widow tried to spread at the town council meetings. It’s also preposterous: according to the chief of police, the dude got eaten by bears when his car broke down on the highway and he chose to walk home through the forest during peak “hungry bear season.”

This in itself is a little suspicious, because the guy who owned the bat-infested house was named Robert Bear. Upon further investigation, however, it was determined that he was not related to any actual bears (the animal.) No, his unique surname came from having a great-great-great grandfather who once fought a bear (the animal) in his home country, whose name is unpronounceable (both the animal’s, because it is unknown to history, and the country’s.) Robert felt bad about the whole thing, but it did conveniently produce a lack of witnesses against him for the bylaw proceeding. And so the bats got to stay.

Really, the only unanswered question is why the real estate dude’s car broke down in the first place. I was also curious about this, which is why I formed a team of teenage detectives to investigate the situation, and – if necessary – to confront our inner demons and use them to kill God. Ultimately, we determined that it was a shitty old Mercedes, and the fuel pump seized up. Carlita, our science expert, figured out that several gallons of bat guano poured into the tank was the cause of the failure, an intriguing coincidence.

We confronted Robert about it, and he congratulated us on our diligent scientific research, and gave us each five hundred bucks in “scholarship money” from a Hefty bag of cash that he had lying in the basement, next to a jerry can and funnel. At this point, like all good detectives, we agreed that we had solved the mystery and decided to never speak of it again.

[formulahs]

Toto always had the biggest caliber star driver in his team. First Michael then Lewis, Nico too. Now he can’t acquire Max. Though he could take Ocon or Sainz, but maybe he’s aiming for a young driver he can mold into a long-term brand project. He’s been sponsoring and closely monitoring Kimi for so many years. If mercs believe they’re strong for upcoming regs, Kimi gaining experience in Williams before new regulations hit would give Toto two capable drivers to fight for a championship

i mean what toto’s doing with antonelli is just the natural movement the sport’s been in for like 20 years now, ron dennis did it with lewis, rbr and bmw did it with seb. picking out a youngster since karting and helping them up to f1 is protocol nowadays and mercedes does have something great to live up to when it comes to drivers, so like you said if they could put together the next legend of the sport it would be amazing so really, i get the line of thinking! what i dont really get is why antonelli. like where’s that dawg. is the goat energy in the room with us rn. why am i not feeling it. like helmut marko and niki lauda almost cut max in half like that baby from the bible or whatever cuz of how absurd his f3 season in a mid car was, im not getting that from antonelli… all im getting is toto bending the world over backwards for the kid while still playing max’s widow to the media

[chillin-at-partys-bar]

This is just a general guide. I’m always open for discussion, but I kind of wanted to make something that could serve as a guide. I love shipping, and will definitely be up for discussing relationships! These are not hard-and-fast rules, but they are my default. Let’s chat if you’re interested in something!

Shanks:  Age: first appearance - 27, pre-timeskip - 37, post time-skip - 39 Pansexual Main ship: Makino. I HC that the kid is his, and so he’s loyal to her.  Ship w/ others: Yes, but if it’s current timeline I put it in an AU. If it’s before Romance Dawn/before Makino then all ships are fair game.  Benn Beckman: Age: first appearance - 38, pre-timeskip - 48, post time-skip - 50 Bisexual Main ship: None Ship w/: Anyone, but he is dedicated to the crew so it’s hard to get to his heart. He’s a challenge but 10/10 worth it. All fair game. He is always down for the meaningless flirting though.

Rockstar: Age: pre-timeskip - 28, post time-skip - 30 Pansexual Main ship: None Ship w/: Anyone. He’s got a little inferiority complex because of who his captain and crew are, but he’ll flirt and be open to anything. He’s more flighty, and less interested in getting into a serious relationship than someone like Roux is. Easiest to get in bed. 

Elia Ricci: Age: pre-timeskip - 19, post time-skip - 21 Pansexual Main ship: Emmy ( @seraphiixa​‘s minor Marine) Ship w/ others: Ships are all in separate verses, naturally. Elia likes the process of falling in love and he’s a sappy, cheesy, gag-worthy romantic and has no shame about it. 

Cherise P. Belrosse: Age: pre-timeskip - 23, post time-skip - 25 Bisexual - Prefers men Main ship: Zoro (all in her head) Ship w/ others: Cherise has a history of “falling in love” and leaving her boyfriends disfigured or as corpses. She’s not malicious or black widow type, she’s 100% Taylor Swift in Blank Space. Fun to ship with, but also be careful. Maybe a woman would be safe from her destruction? Idk what would happen if she actually met Zoro. 

Mercedes “Mercy” Abbot:  Age: pre-timeskip - 25, post time-skip - 27 Bisexual - Prefers women Main ship: None Ships w/: Anyone. She’s a soft brawler. Take it as you will. She’s got no relationship history save for sleeping around in ports.  

Smoker:  Age: pre-timeskip - 24, post time-skip - 26 Bisexual - Prefers women Main ship: None (Though I like SmoAce and SmoLaw) Ships w/: Anyone. He's super cute when in love, but it takes a moment to get there.  

Jessie: Age: 26 Bisexual - Prefers Men Main ship: James Ships w/: Anyone. She's often sad, often depressed, and often full of fight and sarcasm. She can be soft though.  

[endlessly-cursed]

WW1- Cayetana Narváez

"𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣."

Name: Cayetana María Narváez del Monte

Nicknames: Caye

Birthdate:  24th of June, 1888

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Pureblood

Nationality: Spanish

Physical Appearance

Hair: Pale blonde

Eyes: Dark brown

Height: 1.66m

Weight: 62kg

Body Type: Lithe

Skin Tone: Fair

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): Several small scars on her upper body due to escaping the Germans

Background

Hometown

Cayetana grew up in the wealthy neighbourhood in Madrid, Spain, with a wealthy family, close relatives of Spanish President Narváez at the time. Despite the glamour and splendour, the Spanish arisocracy was in declive and Cayetana knew that soon their wealth would not protect them. She always dreamt of going to university and always dresses as a boy and twice a week, escaped to the Complutense university. One day, a quarrel with her mother made her escape to Castile la Mancha, where a childhood friend helped her disguise as a boy and attend the University of Salamanca.

Family

Mother: Milagros Eugenia del Monte

Known fondly by her family as 'Milagritos', though she was not a warm mother, she did her best to raise Cayetana as her own woman. Her husband died due to being a potential replacer for President Narváez and was left a widow. After a big fight with Cayetana, where she called out her cross-dressing and unfairly told her that she was a lady and had only one duty which she'd fulfill, her daughter ran away and was never seen again. She only heard of her in 1919, when she wrote to her about her whereabouts and disowning her as a mother.

Father figure: Professor Juan Manuel Serrano Villanueva

A brilliant and ahead-of-his-time man, despite being neutral about what was called 'The Great War' or 'The Cousin's War', he was nevertheless interested in the outcome. He always suspected of Cayetana, who called herself Alejandro de las Mercedes. He always knew that there was something off about Alejandro, and when he caught her red-handed, he was not thrilled about being taken for a fool, but when calmed down, and seeing Caye's potential, made her his protegé and was the one to inspire her about espionage and partake in the war with her improved disguise skills. He sent a letter to her home, letting them know that she was fine and safe in professional hands. He and Caye shared a special bond, being the afther Caye always waited for.

El Punto Mágico

House: Linces (Lynxes)

Best Class: Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Arithmetic

Worst Class: Potions

Bachiller: Humanities and Political Sciences (Latin, Greek, History, Advanced Philosophy, Quidditch & Universal Literature)

Boggart: Her mother putting her a wedding dress

Riddikulus: The wedding dress turns into a suit and her mother faints dramatically

Patronus: TBD

Patronus Memory: Being in her first university lecture

Mirror of Erised: Being recognized for her academic achievements

Amortentia (what she smells like): strawberries, old books, green tea and smoke

Amortentia (what she smells): TBD

Career

6-12: Student in El Punto Mágico: Educación Primaria (Primary Education)

12-16: Student in El Punto Mágico: Educación Secundaria Obligatoria (Secondary Education)

16-18: Student in El Punto Mágico: Estudios Avanzados (some sort of bachelor's degree)

20-24: Right hand and secretary to Don Juan Serrano

25-30: Spy for the Spanish liberal party in the front lines

30-??: TBD

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Educating herself, going away from her mother's grasp and doing something meaningful

Strengths: Whip smart, academically gifted, good at disguises and languages

Weaknesses: Can be sensitive and stubborn

Stressed: During the wars

Calm/Comforted: With a book in her nose

Favorites

Colors: Golden, baby blue, maroon and cream white

Weather: Sunny and cool

Hobbies: Reading, learning new skills and dark academia fashion

Fashion: She is one of the first women who wears trousers, vests and simple dressing instead of giving into the latest fashion

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Joanna Vallen ( @kathrynalicemc )

(STORY TBD)

Friends: Mysteria Charmworth ( @potionboy3 )

Both women's personalities are rather similar, and despite having different morals, they become good friends during the war and quickly become close.

Lunas Avery ( @cursed-herbalist )

Cayetana started her spying shenanigans when her investigations got her to a mysterious man from TOWER and soon applied to TOWER to assess the threat and soon met Lunas, who from the start suspected of her, who wanted to pass as a man called Don Anselmo Flores, and even after she was caught, her skills impressed the superiors so that they kept her as a nurse. After her ploy was caught, it was Lunas who, during the night of the Somme, alongside other two friends, arranged an escape route for her that'd get her to Britain where she'd give them all the intel she had gathered.

Alexej Kavinsky

(STORY TBD)

Colm O'Shea ( @unfortunate-arrow )

During runaways, she came across Colm's team and she nursed his wounds, and both bonded over their dislike towards the British and their histories with them, and although their time was cut short, Caye and Colm were pen pals, often corresponding and inviting one another to their weddings and important events.

Rivals: TBD (open as well)

Trivia

On her time in Salamanca, she earned a degree in Law and Political Science

She was a suffragette and advocated for women's rights and girls' more thorough education that didn't limit itself to womenly chores

Her mother tried to lock her in an engagement several times, but she always acted like she was mentally unstable or being annoyingly obnoxious and thus scared off possible suitors

She is a polyglot: she speaks Spanish, English, Romanian, ancient and modern Greek, Latin, German, French, Portuguese and Russian, and is always looking forward learning new languages

The first five were learnt in her studies in Punto and the university, meanwhile the last four were learnt on the trenches and still struggles to write in Russian

She also knows Suffragitsu and self-defence by Don Juan

She also forcibly learned how to be a high-society lady in Europe and helped her weave in Germany, France and Russia

In the 1960s, she was offered a position as a teacher by the resisting and hidden republicans who wanted to educate the younger generations. It only lasted eight months, and she had to run away with the help of the northern Maquis to escape back to England, and would return when Juan Carlos I was crowned king and abolished the dictatorship and offered all the teachers a pardon, among them Cayetana.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Ortiz Basualdo Anchorena Palace

Hi Guys! I leave this residence here. Could not find the floorplan, so I took some building liberties.

As always, you  will need lots of CC for it to work properly, mostly from Felixandre, TheJim, SYB, Aggresivve Kitty, among others.

Thanks to my patreons for all the support! I really appreciate your participation and gives me a boost of confidence!

Please let me know if you like it :)

Enjoy!

DOWNLOAD: https://www.patreon.com/posts/81865201

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A little bit of context and history:

The disappeared Ortiz Basualdo Anchorena Palace (better known as the Ortiz Basualdo Palace) was a luxurious residence that existed facing the San Martin Plaza in the neighborhood of Retiro, Buenos Aires.

This grand mansion, which occupied half a block bounded by Basavilbaso, Maipú, and Arenales streets, was designed by Belgian architect Jules Dormal at the request of Mrs. Magdalena Dorrego de Ortiz Basualdo (1826-1905) for her eldest daughter, Inés Ortiz Basualdo (1853-1922), widow of Estanislao Peña y Lezica, and her youngest son, Carlos Ortiz Basualdo (1863-1910) married to Matilde de Anchorena Castellanos, all members of important aristocratic families of late 19th century Argentina.

The mansion was completed in 1904, and that year, the Municipality of Buenos Aires awarded it the First Prize for Best Façade in its annual competition. This palace should not be confused with the one built in 1912 for Daniel Ortiz Basualdo (1860-1935), the second son of Mrs. Dorrego de Ortiz Basualdo, married to Mercedes Zapiola, at the corner of Cerrito and Avenida Alvear, now the Embassy of France.

The Ortiz Basualdo Palace, which appeared as a single unit, actually contained two important adjacent but independent residences. One with an entrance at Arenales 733, with a grand porte cochère, was that of Inés Ortiz Basualdo de Peña, who, already a widow, moved into it with her daughter Elisa Peña de Uribelarrea (1878-1943), newly married to Manuel Adrián de Uribelarrea Anchorena, a marriage that had ten children. In 1943, Elisa Peña de Uribelarrea died, already a widow, and the executor of the estate entered into negotiations to sell her part of the palace to the Russian embassy, which finally bought the house of Celedonio Pereda on Rodriguez Peña street.

The other great residence with an entrance at Maipú 1210 was that of Carlos Ortiz Basualdo, married to Matilde de Anchorena Castellanos in 1896. Carlos Ortiz Basualdo died in 1910, after having five children, four boys and one girl. Matilde de Anchorena Castellanos married François Verstraeten Dunois in 1914, with whom she had a son and a daughter. Her son, Francisco Verstraeten de Anchorena, married Raquel Terán Etchecopar in 1942, and her daughter, Elena Verstraeten de Anchorena, married Enrique Ibarguren in 1941. The Verstraeten Anchorena family lived in the palace until their last days. After the death of Doña Matilde de Anchorena Castellanos de Verstraeten in 1969, the remaining part of the palace was auctioned and demolished.

The Ortiz Basualdo Palace was one of the most important examples of the palaces and mansions that emerged in the early 20th century in the neighborhoods of Retiro, Recoleta, and Palermo. These mansions were clustered around the San Martin Plaza, along Avenida Alvear and adjacent streets. Until the crisis of 1930, family successions and the emergence of rationalism in architecture definitively put an end to them, both in aesthetic exhaustion and economic reality.

Credit:

Argentina de Antaño

[belladonna413]

Thank you for tagging me @rushinintolove!

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

Crowley - Good Omens

Black Widow - Marvel Comics

Eleanor Robinson - Mercedes Lackey's Elemental Masters Series

Katniss Everdeen - The Hunger Games

Poison Ivy - DC Comics

Elizabeth Bennett - Pride and Prejudice

Marco - Animorphs

Donna Noble - Doctor Who

Edmund Pevensie - The Chronicles of Narnia

Sabine Wren - Star Wars

And tagging @cobragardens @shadesofecclescakes @ihavenoideahowtodream @mimi-and-the-next-20th-century @floralomens @dragon-frootie @hereticqueen2000 @greenthena @celestialcrowley

[malicemismanager]

Decided to start a Black Widow Challenge after watching a stream, but, like, with a twist because I enjoy making things harder for myself than they need to be at the slightest opportunity.

So we got my sim here, her name is Mercedes, because we love irony in this house lol

Anyway, she's got a sibling, Aurelio, whom she's raising after the tragic and totally not suspicious death of their parents

And the plan here is that instead of doing the black widowing herself, once they age up she's gonna be setting up her sibling with rich people, manipulate things so they get married, and then kill the spouse and keep their stuff, rinse and repeat 10 times as usual. Basically, Crimson Peak but without the incest (cuz they patched that out and I have too many mods as it is) and the sibling may or may not actually know what's going on, I haven't decided yet.

Y'know. Normal sims stuff. XD

[randomnameless]

In her Forging Bonds, Mercedes reveals her recipe for the sweets she bakes were passed down from her father’s family, and her father taught her mother how to bake them (they cooked together) !

But there’s this interesting tidbit about a timeline :

“ Before I was born, there was strife in the Empire, and he was killed. My mother and I lost our house and title. “

What kind of strife is she talking about?

Mercie’s dad was killed, and his house disappeared ? Mercie was born before the Insurrection so it can’t be that, but it can’t be the latest Brigid war, because Petra remembers her parents and she’s younger than Mercedes so... ?

On pegasusknight the script goes :

お父様はね、私が生まれる少し前に 政争に巻き込まれて亡くなったの

Googlised, it goes 

“Your (lel) father was involved in a political dispute and died shortly before I was born.”

Mercie’s dad died to a political strife? She was born in 1157 - what kind of “political strife” existed in 1157? 

Interestingly, House Hrym was vaporised in 1167, ten years after House Matritz’s fall subsequent to the “killing” of her dad in a political strife.

The devs are allergic to give us any crumbs about Adrestia and Ionius content, but who acted the fall of House Martritz, without giving any fucks about the surviving widow and heir in the oven? Was it Ionius? His predecessor? Why? Was House Martritz the first House who opposed Ionius’s policies and was hit, but when Hrym tries to defect 10 years later that’s when the rest of Adrestia reacts?

Oh well, maybe in Mercedes’s next FEH alt we will get more about her backstory /s

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

Mnmoms AU requests!! Very exciting--hmm would love to see Lark and Mercedes interacting :] Also for a question, what's Mercedes' and Morgan's relationship like in the AU?

OOOGHH THE SILLIES OF ALL TIME. the only mother&child relationship that is positive for the entirety to this au LMAO throughout season 1 arc, at least, though theyre mostly okay post-finale too. lark is a mama's boy <3 (for some reason tumblr just... wont let me upload the full resolution of this image? so heres a screenshot instead, it shouldnt be too different since its just a sketch bdfhjg)

and ooohhh mercedes and morgan!! good question. their dynamic isnt one that ive put as much thought into yet, buuut- (rambles for four paragraphs anyways)

theyre like. besties to worsties to besties again. good friends, but at each others throats at times. they usually get along pretty well though - as well as morgan gets along with anyone, at least, shes a pretty abrasive person and while mercedes isnt exactly quick to anger, theyre both very emotional people. they rile each other up more than they calm each other down, to say the least!

obviously, they disagree a lot on parenting styles, especially at the start of the soccer trip. morgan is on top of nick at all times, and mercedes's very laidback parenting style makes morgan feel a little crazy (and also a little scorned, because even though morgan spends so much time watching after nick, hes still just as poorly behaved as the twins). mercedes is worse than henry is, even, in this au - shes very much the "fun" parent between the two, and they function must better when theyre together. mercedes has no clue how to discipline a child, but shes also not shy about telling morgan that shes definitely doing it wrong LMAO

i think mercedes would remind morgan a lot of glenn, and at first this would be very very uncomfortable for her. as the story progresses though and as they develop their friendship, this grows into something genuinely comforting to morgan. mercedes helps morgan step back and say "hey. okay. mercedes isnt constantly on high alert for anything bad that could happen, and her kids are... you know, alive, at least!", and it reassures morgan that glenn could have been (and more subconsciously, that pre-widow morgan) a good parent, regardless of his relaxed attitude.

additionally - the omega daddies are not something ive talked about much for this au because It Is Hard To Explain, but ! morgan and bill's relationship is similar in some ways to mercedes and barry's. i think they would be able to comfort each other in regards to that :]

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Part 2 of Marvel comics characters list:

Cloud 9 (Abigail "Abby" Boylen)

Kid Kaiju (Kei Kawade:a boy and his monsters)

Ziggy pig and silly seal

Howard the duck

Aero (Lei Ling)

Jubilee

American Kaiju (Todd Ziller)

Somnus (Carl Valentino)

Amulet (Fadi Fadlalah)

Nightmask (Adam Blackwell)

Ghost rider (Robbie Reyes)

Synch (Everett Thomas)

Misty Knight (Mercedes)

Dazzer

Lionheart (Kelsey Leigh Kirkland)

Gwenpool(Gwendolyn "Gwen" Poole)

Moon Girl(Lunella Lafayette)

Devil Dinosaur

Blue Marvel (Adam Brasher)

Jack of Hearts (Jack Hart)

Dust (Soorya Qadir)

Shang-chi

Elixir (Joshua Foley)

Kid Omega (Quentin Quire)

Legion (David Haller)

Speedball (Robbie Brown)

Silhouette

Ultraman

Justice

Night thrasher

Firestar

The Unstoppable Wasp(Nadia Van Dyne)

Armor (Hisako Ichiki)

Hurricane (Makoto)

Charade (Chloe)

Codec(Adi)

Twister(Bruno)

Diana Soar

Cloak(Tyrone Johnson)

Dagger(Tandy Bowen)

Vin Vision

Virginia Vision

Ant-man(Scott Lang)

Skin (Angelo Espinosa)

Husk

Broo

Eye Boy(Trevor Hawkins)

Moon Knight

Gentle(Nezhno Abidemi)

Prodigy(David Alleyne)

Danger

Pixie

Singularity

Captain Universe

Squid Boy(Samuel Paré)

Jocasta

Echo(Maya López)

Destiny(Irene Adler)

Iron Fist(Danny Rand)

White Tiger(Ava Ayala)

Power Man(Victor Alvraez)

Nova(Sam Alexander)

Luke Cage

Transonic(Laurie Tromette)

Snowguard(Amka Aliyak)

Sky(Kaila)

Martinez T,Naga

Vance Astrovik

Captain Charlie-27

Manon and Maxime

Idie Okonkwo

Surge(Noriko)

Triage(Chris Muse)

Anole

Wind Dancer(Sofia Mantega)

Magma(Amara Aquilla)

Bombshell(Lana Baumgartner)

Locust(Fernanda Rodriguez)

Pinpoint(Qureshi Gupta)

Domino

Shaman(Dr. Michael Twoyoungmen)

Alloy(Ramone Watts)

Giant-Man(Raz Malhotra)

Moondragon

Gorgeous George

Wiz Kid

Quicksilver

Scarlet Witch

Toad(Todd Talonsky)

Blob

Avalanche

Pyro

Sabertooth

Wave

Tempo

Jo-venn

N'kalla

Lila Rhodes

Priya Aggarwal

Xavin

Red Widow(Ava Orlova)

Ying Liu

Demolition man

Elsa Bloodstone

Stingray

Fantomex

Captain Ultra

This is the last part of the marvel comics characters list, I'll let you know if there are any other characters I overlooked

Take your time and Happy writing❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Awesome!☺️ Thank you again for going out of your way to put together these lists. You’ve definitely brought some new characters to my attention that I’m excited to look more into and write for at some point.

[dangermousie]

Stuff from Ramo ep 3

1. I love the aunt, calmly getting a gun out of her elegant bag in the middle of a fancy restaurant, threatening a high up mobster for the safety of her nephew...

2. One of the things I love about Turkish shows is that their leading men are actually believable as mobsters. Look at Murat Yildirim, he looks believable as one.

3. The flashbacks are fun in general but the two things that stick out especially to me is how amused by her he is and how FUCKING GIGANTIC HIS PAWS ARE ON HER!

I mean, look at the size of his hands on her waist...

His hand is as big as her face!

I love that long before he consciously fell for her, he never considered using her for his revenge because she was not the one who harmed him. It’s so freaking refreshing, especially since it wasn’t a decision that was made due to love but principles.

4. Getting the thing you want most (Sibel) in the worst way. Yum! (I guess it’s fair - you took a dude from her fam and replacing it with yourself. As I was telling @academyofbrokenhearts​ this is equivalent of wrecking a 2003 Honda Civic and replacing it with 2022 Mercedes. Heh.)

5. This was amazing! The old mobster telling widow and son of killed dude that who cares, sons-in-law are replaceable. Man wasn’t his blood so who cares. OMG. I chortled.

I AM DYING

Good Luck, dude!!! Something tells me you are not gonna break him.